Dad left early for work and Mom got stuck on an early morning conference call with a local art gallery, which means I get stuck walking to school. Fortunately, Bruno isn't out and about off leash. I keep my head down for most of the trek to school, though it doesn't do much to shield me from the blistering cold.

I finally brave the wind enough to glance up. Blaire is a few meters ahead of me and I hurry over to her. "Hey."

She flinches and turns, glaring at me. "Don't do that."

I blink, my steps slowing. "Do what?"

"Sneak up on me."

My brows pinch together. I hadn't exactly been stealthy in my thirty second powerwalk across snow and ice to get to her.

Blaire nudges me with her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I've just been under a lot of stress lately."

Her eyes are a tad too wide and there's a bright gleam to them. Like prey. She keeps fidgeting with her hands, twisting her fingers together. Guess it's not the best time to bring up my date with Bax, or my plan to poke into his possible involvement in the hit-and-run. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Blaire opens her mouth, her hands clenching before she shakes her head. "No."

I tilt my head and step closer to her. A little whammy would get her to talk and might even make her feel better. But I reach out and grab her hand. Blaire chose to trust me as a friend when she opened up about her dad. I'm not about to blow that because of curiosity.

Blaire clears her throat and pushes open the large oak doors of the building. "How do you like school so far?"

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It's a lot to get used to."

She laughs. "I wasn't expecting that."

"What?"

She flicks her wrist into the air. "Afton is a lot of things, but 'overwhelming' isn't one of them."

The corners up my mouth turn up, one brow quirking. "I've been sort of sheltered the last few years. And America is so different from Japan."

"Makes sense."

I adjust the strap of my bag. "Have you ever been on a date?"

Blaire shakes her head. "Nope. The boys here are mostly clueless idiots. Why? You have a date with one of our illustrious Radley High residents?"

I snort, raising a brow at her.

Blaire waves her hand in the air dismissively. "I've known most of them since elementary school. My pool of romantic prospects consists of a guy who wet the bed until third grade or a senior who puked in my hair after a particularly intense session on the merry go round. To you they're all fresh meat so the shine has yet to wear off. So, who is it?"

The mention of Bax's name on any given day transforms Blaire into a bloodthirsty banshee. But I can't fill her in on my plan. Not until I can trust her. And I won't put her on Raiju's radar, either. Keeping her in the dark might be best for everyone.

A kid rushes past, bumping into me, and I stumble forward. A low growl rumbles in my throat as I regain my balance. Pulling out the phone from my jacket pocket, I check the time. "We better hurry or we'll be late to homeroom."

Blaire curses and we jog down the hallway, arriving to chemistry class with five minutes to spare. I walk up the fourth row toward my seat, slowing down as I pass Gretchen who slumps in her chair, biting her nails. Her eyes are bloodshot and she's not wearing make-up.

I gently place my hand on her shoulder. "How are you doing?"

She sighs, looking at her notebook. "Rebecca told me what you said to Mr. Ortiz. Thanks."

"He's a prize jerk. Don't mention it."

Blaire drops into her seat and pulls her phone out to scroll through a couple of messages. Standing at my seat, I drop my bag to the floor. Combing through tangled strands with my fingers, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and turn to catch a glimpse of Sam out of the corner of my eye. His brown eyes are focused on my butt. "See something interesting?"

Squirming in his seat, he clears his throat and clumsily thumbs through the pages of his textbook. Bright red floods his cheeks.

I press a fist to my lips, trying to stifle a laugh. "Uh, Sam? Your book is upside down."

A couple of kids around us snicker.

Score one for the fox-girl!

Mr. Ortiz enters the room and drops his books on his desk. The man is as welcoming as the smell of bleach that seems to permanently hang about his classroom. Ugh. Don't these people breathe? How am I the only one who notices this?

I sit and lean back in my chair, tapping my pen to my lips. When Mr. Ortiz glares at me, the corner of my mouth quirks up. Bring it.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

But he just spits out notes on oscillating chemical reactions. No quips. No putting students down. No kicking anyone out of class. Time flies by and before I know it, the bell rings and everyone stands to collect their belongings.

After class, I walk down the hall toward the art room. My locker is in the corridor off to the left. I punch in my combination and twist the lock. My nose twitches at the musty smell permeating from the narrow space. Ugh, the smell must have ingrained itself into the metal. As I'm stuffing all the textbooks I won't need for the rest of the day inside, the back of my neck prickles. Someone's behind me. I spin around and meet Sam's warm chocolate orbs, my heart skipping a beat. I place a hand on my hip and quirk a brow. "Staring at my butt again?"

He shakes his head, flashing me a grin. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Why should I? You were dumb enough to get caught. And it's my butt."

"It's a nice butt." This time his cheeks are as red as a beetroot. He coughs and sputters, his hands waving frantically in the air. "I didn't mean that!"

"No?" I lean back and cross my arms.

He rubs the back of his neck, his entire face red. But there's a steadiness in his eyes. My sketch didn't do justice to them, or to his mouth. It's masculine, yet warm and I must say I like it—especially when he licks his lips.

"Um, I didn't mean to insult...your butt." He smiles at me. It's as if he can conjure butterflies by being near, or how it feels like the sun coming out from the clouds when his eyes light up. He has the kind of smile that makes me feel happy to be alive. Maybe, if I get to know him well enough to trust him, I could tell him who I am. What I am.

Longing rolls through me like waves during a storm, strong and relentless. I want to be free of the hiding, free of the secrets. I want to be me—fully and totally me—just for a day. I want to be Amaya, the kitsune trickster, dancing lightly in my true form.

Sam's places his hand on my shoulder. "You okay? Are you cold?"

"Just bad memories." My hands rub my arms, trying to chase the chill away.

Sam takes a deep breath. "On my way over, I heard some girls talking. You have a date with my brother?"

Oh, no. The wall clock above my head ticks like the timer on a bomb. Each tick draws a new bead of sweat from my skin and sends my stomach churning until it becomes a chaotic ball of nervousness. "What's it to you if I do? You had ample opportunity to ask me out and you didn't." Warmth sears through my cheeks as if my face caught fire. Where the hell did that come from?

Sam rocks back onto his heels, his hands jammed into his pockets. "Would you have even said yes if I had?"

"Depends." I tilt my head, biting the corner of my lower lip.

He reaches out a hand and brushes a stray lock of hair from my face. "On?"

"On how you asked me. But since you didn't, you have only yourself to blame when I grab a burger with Bax."

He sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. "So, you do have a date."

A dull pain begins to radiate around my entire head and a wave of distant throbbing follows and I rub my temples. Sam can't find out why I'm really going out with his brother. Not sure he'd take too kindly to me poking around his brother's involvement with Tori's death. And I definitely don't need Sam finding out about Raiju. "I don't know if you've taken your eyes off my butt long enough to notice, but I am a cute girl with plenty of personality. A catch for anyone."

"Amaya, that's not—would you stop getting mad and just listen?" He reaches out and catches my hand, his expression pleading. Just like a kicked fox cub. His fingers are gentle, even as he takes firm hold of mine. Yet, his touch warms my skin. "Look, I know you think you're tough, and maybe you are, but be careful, okay? We're friends and I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Friends?" I haven't had a friend since Eiko died. Would I consider Blaire a friend? I think so, but when she finds out about my date she's going to go crazy, and any chance of us staying friends will fly out the window. I want a friend, and if I don't do something soon I'm afraid the hole inside of me will only grow larger and larger until it swallows me whole.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I'd like to hang out some time. Grab a slice of pizza. Do homework together."

I snort. "You actually do homework?"

He rubs his jaw. "Sometimes. So, what do you think?"

Since I can't manipulate Mr. Immunity he'd be a real friend. "Would be nice to have someone to hang out with. You're not offering to be my friend to keep me from going out with your brother, are you?"

"Nothing to do with him. This is about me. I'm asking to hang out because I would like hang out with you." He bumps my shoulder lightly with his. "How about we catch a movie next weekend? It'll be fun and relaxing."

Other than my parents, I have never gone to a movie theater with another human before. "Sure. If you buy the tickets, I'll buy the popcorn and the drinks?"

"Hey, I'm almost broke, so you've got a deal!" His lips twitch as if trying to contain a smile. "I'd go this weekend, but I have a family thing in the Cities so I won't be back until late Sunday. And you've already got plans this weekend anyway."

"Maybe we can try for next weekend. If next week is anything like this week, I'll definitely need to relax." Sam and I swap phone numbers, and I drop my phone into my pocket. Happiness warms me as Sam scrolls through his phone waiting for me. His face is content as he looks down at the screen, a small smile spread across his lips that I seemed to have put there.

I reach for the locker door when my gaze falls upon a piece of paper slipping down from behind the list of school rules taped to the back of the locker door. What I pull out is a photo of a group of girls at a party.

I recognize Gretchen and another girl from chemistry. Aimee's in the picture, smiling as though she doesn't have a care in the world. But the center of the photo is a girl I don't know—dark straggly hair, over-sized sweater, and stick-thin legs. Her expression is dazed and she is caught in the act of tucking her hair behind her ear—so different from the other three.

When I hand Sam the photo his face drains of color and he clenches his jaw so tight the muscles twitch. He stares at it for a couple of minutes before meeting my gaze. "Don't tell anyone about this photo, okay? You could end up in a world of trouble."

My brows knit together at his words. "Because of a photo?"

Sam takes a deep breath and steps back, his eyes traveling over me, full of concern. "Tori pissed off a lot of people at this school, Bax among them. And—well, bad things happen to people who get on Bax's bad side. I don't want him to cause you any trouble, especially since you weren't even involved in what happened to Tori."

Something tells me he's not talking about the hit-and-run. He either knows if Blaire's accusations are correct or he suspects his brother hurt Tori at the party. I narrow my eyes and step closer to him. "You aren't going to give me a warning like that without elaborating, are you?"

Sam's fingers curl into fists, his jaw and neck taut. His nostrils flare. But instead of lashing out, he takes a deep breath as he tucks the photo into the back pocket of his jeans. "He's the town's superstar and that comes with having a target on your back. People love a bad guy just as much as they love a hero. So, I don't have anything to tell you because I don't know what happened. And I'm not going to spread gossip about my family."

He spins around and walks away. I slam my locker door closed, grab the strap to my bag, and swing it over my shoulder only to spot Blaire a couple of feet away. Her posture is rigid, her eyes locked with mine. Her face contorts into an expression she's never worn. One that causes the fur beneath my skin to prickle.

Her eyes narrow to slits, fingers curling into tight fists at her side. "Heard you have a date with Bax."