Hanna hurried down the sidewalk a week later, her hands greasy with sunscreen and her streaked hair in a wild bun, cursing her sister’s crazy work schedule. She’d had to beg Becca three different times for the money to get her band camp dues paid before the deadline, and that deadline was today.

“Sorry, Han,” Becca had groaned that morning over breakfast as she scribbled out the check. “If it’s not on my planner, it ain’t getting done.”

“I understand,” Hanna had soothed her sister, “but they’re gonna boot me out if I don’t pay up.”

“You’ll be working to pay that back, you hear?” Becca teased. “I want my car scrubbed spotless.”

“Aye-aye.” Hanna had retorted, “If your car ever stays in the driveway long enough, I’ll gladly wash it.”

“Deal.” Becca had sent her away, ruffling her hair, but now Hanna would be ten minutes late for the start of fundamentals camp, a week of drills and basics before they traveled two hours south for the real camp.

Her phone rang, and she yanked it out and answered it, nearly losing the check in the process. “Hello?”

“Hanna, darling, where are you?” Veronica’s southern drawl was loud in her ear. “Practice started five minutes ago, babe.”

Hanna’s hands began to go cold as panic started up in her veins. Only a week into her new life as a guard girl, and she was already on her instructor’s bad side. Coach Patricia, the cheer coach, used to scold her up one side and down the other for daring to be late.

“I’m so sorry, I had to get the check for camp,” Hanna explained breathlessly. “I’m on my way now, I’m sorry. I’ll be there in three minutes.”

“Are you running?” Veronica’s response hid laughter. “Baby girl, I can come get you if this is gonna be a problem.”

“No, it’s okay, I walk to school every day. My sister has a weird schedule, that’s all. This morning was the only time I could catch her today, and I was running behind—"

“Baby girl. Calm down.” Veronica laughed a bit. “It’s okay. We’ll see you when you get here, but don’t wear yourself out. It’s gonna be a long day.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hanna blinked in surprise. “Thanks, Veronica.”

“That’s Mama Ronnie to you, girl.” Veronica chuckled, then hung up, and Hanna shook her head in pleasant shock.

Three minutes later, as promised, Hanna jogged panting into the lobby. Veronica met her at the door and burst into laughter as Hanna doubled over to catch her breath.

“Did you think we were gonna whip you or something?” She mopped at Hanna’s brow, then took her arm and led her down the long hallway towards the back of the school. “Come on, girl. Let’s get you some water and drop off that check, and then we’ll head out with the others.”

“Why are you so nice?” Hanna asked once she’d caught her breath.

“It’s your first day, and you had a good reason,” Veronica replied with a shrug. “Set your alarm a little earlier next time is all I’ll say, especially if you’re gonna walk. Mr. J will handle it well once, but not consistently, you know?”

Hanna nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Veronica patted her hand, then led her down the same hall Sheena had brought her to get the chocolate. In the distance, perhaps outside, she heard a clicking metronome echoing against the school walls.

“Just through these double doors here, Miss Hanna,” Veronica urged as they approached the double doors of the band room.

Hanna took a deep breath, then pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The scent of sunscreen and sports drinks hit her hard as she walked into the blue-and-white room, her footsteps muffled against the thick black carpet.

Student belongings were strewn in the large open space, leaving enough room for a pathway from an outside door to the double doors she’d just come through.

“Here’s a bottle of water, hon.” Veronica pushed a cold bottle into Hanna’s hand, and she took it and drank gratefully. “Let me have the check. I’ll leave it in Mr. J’s office.” She pointed towards the outside door. “Our practice field is just across the parking lot, whenever you’re ready.” She turned and stepped into the darkened office, grabbed an envelope, and scribbled Hanna’s name on it, then dropped the check in and sealed it, clipping it to the director’s computer monitor.

“Thanks.” Hanna headed for the door, then braced herself against the heat as she stepped outside. The July heat was brutal as it billowed up from the black pavement of the parking lot, and the sky vaulted high overhead without a cloud in sight. “Well,” she sighed as she shielded her eyes with her hand. “This is gonna be fun.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Veronica assured her. She plopped a pair of sunglasses into Hanna’s other hand. “Gonna need these.” Then she led Hanna across the back parking lot to a fenced-in field, roughly lined with fresh paint to mark out the yard lines. The whole band had gathered there, lined up in ranks, standing at attention as Mr. J talked to them through a megaphone.

“Keep a slight bend to your knees,” he advised as he paced up and down the ranks, fixing postures and straightening shoulders as he went. “You don’t want to keel over, especially in this heat.”

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Hanna sucked in a nervous breath. That sounded intense.

“Go on out there. Your spot’s between Sheena and Heather,” Veronica nudged. “Your water will be here for breaks.”

Hanna gave a nod. “Alright. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll do great, girl.”

A couple hours later, Hanna was decidedly not doing great. Sweat poured from her brow and dampened her tank top. She sagged with relief as Mr. J called for a water break, then pushed her damp, side-swept bangs out of her eyes.

“Hair’s still looking good, girl,” Sheena remarked as she and Hanna climbed the hill to the field gate.

“I’m not worried about that so much,” Hanna confessed. She glanced down at her cute, grungy Converse she’d bought from Colby, which she’d painted over with purple stars and hearts, and smiled. “These shoes make me feel a little happier about baking in the sun, though.” She shook her empty water bottle. “I’ll head in and get some more water. You want anything?”

“Same, just water,” Sheena replied. “You’re doing great, girl, just keep your head up.” She ruffled Hanna’s messy hair with a laugh.

“Thanks, Sheena.” She headed across the parking lot to the band room door and pulled, only to find it locked.

She frowned, then tugged again and glanced around helplessly. Was it supposed to be locked?

Confused, she tapped softly on the door, hoping someone inside could hear her.

She didn’t have to wait long. The door opened out, and cold air rushed out to greet her. A familiar, tall figure tossed his long, beachy dark-brown waves out of his face and paused in the doorway, then squinted in the light and adjusted stylish square glasses. His shirt boasted a familiar logo—the thorny umbrella of her favorite punk band, Parasols and Pain.

Hanna’s heart flipped. It was Klaus.

“Sorry,” Klaus muttered hurriedly. “I forgot to leave it…open.” His words trailed off as he studied her with a wistful expression.

Hanna grinned as her cheeks reddened. It seemed he liked what he saw, too.

His gaze paused on her newly painted Converse, and his eyebrows arched. Hanna glanced down to see he was also wearing Converse, and her heart warmed.

She turned her toes in. “Do you like them? I painted them myself.”

Klaus’ brow furrowed as he glanced up into her eyes, as if confused.

“You know, with acrylic paint pens,” Hanna chuckled nervously. Her laughter died off as he continued to stare at her, his appreciative gaze morphing to a glare.

Uh-oh. Mayday. What had she said wrong?

“Um, anyway,” she struggled to recover, twirling a loose strand of her hair around her finger. “I love your shirt. That logo’s from their first album. One of my faves.”

Klaus glanced down at his shirt, then back at her. His green eyes were stormy now, and Hanna was floundering out at sea.

“Um, thanks for opening the door for me,” she offered with a shy smile, trying desperately to break the tension that had fallen between them.

He didn’t respond. His green eyes seemed to flash under the dark shade of his long hair.

Hanna’s smile faded as the tension thickened. She rubbed her arms with rapidly cooling hands and gave a nervous laugh.

“I’ll just…I’ll go inside now. Thanks.” She stepped forward and tried to slip past him.

Klaus crossed his arms and blocked the doorway, forcing her to step back. Murderous anger blazed in his eyes.

A cocktail of indignation and confusion began crawling in numbing waves up Hanna’s fingers.

“Did I do something wrong?” Hanna demanded. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.” She glanced helplessly past his broad shoulders towards the band room. “I just want to go get some water.”

“I know what you are,” Klaus growled.

Hanna furrowed her brow. What was he talking about?

“No amount of costuming like a band kid is going to make you belong here, cheerleader.” He spat the term like a curse.

Hanna’s mouth fell open. Hurt and rage mingled in her veins and numbed her fingers, and all the sprouts of attraction she’d felt died in mid-bloom.

How did Klaus know about her past, and why the heck was he throwing it in her face?

She shut her mouth and took in a deep breath, then crossed her arms, mirroring his posture. Though she was hurt, she put on the same cold exterior she used with Liz and the other bimbos to hide her pain. After all, he was treating her just like they would.

What had happened to Sheena’s insistence that Klaus would never lord his field commander position over her?

“I’m sorry, what?” Hanna hissed, pasting on a patronizing smile. “Are you the great arbiter of band-worthiness?” She made a show of glancing around, then peered back at him in faux confusion. “No one told me I had to check with you before joining.”

His green eyes flashed once more, and his lips tilted in a knowing grin, as if she’d just confirmed something for him. “Whatever, Stripes,” he snapped, glancing again at her streaked hair. “You may be able to fool my friends with that punk princess act, but you’ll never fool me.” He took a step forward and glared down at her.

Hanna stood her ground and sneered back at him.

“Good to know. FYI, I’m not here to fool anyone. I’m here to spin.” She kept her arms crossed and roughly shouldered her way past him to the open band room door. Turning back, she snarled, “Have a nice day, jerk face.”

Surprise brightened Klaus’ eyes for just a moment. Then uncertainty crossed his features before he shook his head and took off at a run towards the practice field.

Hanna caught the band room door just before it slammed shut behind him, then threw a withering glare at Klaus’ retreating back.

Of course her first band season couldn’t be all rainbows and roses. She’d met her new Liz, only this time it was her field commander who’d made her feel unworthy…and her potential crush.

Hanna huffed as she stepped inside. It didn’t matter where she went. Someone was always going to be unhappy.

But as long as she refused to care, it couldn’t hurt her.

*

Klaus sprinted onto the field, fueled by adrenaline, chased by unwanted guilt. He didn’t dare glance back even as his footsteps slowed.

Had he really just done that?

The hurt, terrified part of him that still reeled from Isabela’s brutalization felt vindicated. He’d said exactly what was on his mind. He’d lashed out like a cornered animal as Hanna’s undeniable beauty and punky charm threatened to topple his defenses. He’d caused the pain he’d intended, too, if the hurt in her brown eyes was anything to go by.

And yet, the thrill of victory was fading fast. The truth remained that Hanna wasn’t Isabela. Nor was she any of the other girls who’d been present on the worst night of his life two years ago. He could name them all and knew all their faces from his nightmares.

Still, she’d been one of them not so long ago. She’d been infected with their poison, a venom that ran deep and resisted every effort to expunge it. He’d seen it in her demeanor and the way she’d immediately copped that irritating, condescending attitude when he’d spoken down to her.

He realized his fingertips were burning and took in a deep breath to soothe his powers back into submission.

Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe if he hadn’t spoken out of anger, she wouldn’t have reacted with such hasty condescension. He knew Tex would scold him, and Colby would shake his head the way he always did when he disagreed but was too nice to say so.

The fact remained, though, that he could never bring himself to trust her, and he’d already antagonized her.

The only way forward was to avoid her at all costs.