Page 7 of Inception

“They’ve been on and off since sophomore year,” she continued, blindly re-applying her cherry lip gloss. “Apparently they’re off-again, but I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before she gets him back. I mean, it’s not like she has any competition. She’s freaking Nikki Parker and no one around here is crazy enough to go after anything thatbelongsto Nikki Parker. You know what I mean?”

“I’m getting it.”Loud and clear.

“Anyway, there’s plenty of other hotties just ripe for the picking. And with all that,” she said, gesturing over to me brazenly, “you’ll have no trouble picking them right off the top branch, one by one.”

I couldn’t help but laugh with her, though her not-so-subtle heads up was certainly not lost on me.

After paying for our food, we walked back into the main cafeteria where I followed her to a secluded table of her friends; several of whom I recognized from previous classes together, though none more so than Trace Macarthur and Nikki Parker, who stood out at the forefront of the pack.

Nikki was leaning into him, her arm wrapped around his neck as though draping him in a luxurious sheath that was herself. They appeared to be looking down at something—the table, the tray of food, nothing in particular—laughing privately as we walked up to them. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought they were still a couple. A happy one.

Trace straightened out as soon as he saw me, like my presence affected his person, while Nikki’s stare went arctic. If looks could kill, I would have already been a pile of grizzled bone dust.

“This is Jemma,” announced Taylor. “You know Benjamin from History,” she said pointing to the blond guy who shared his book with me this morning, and then to the couple. “That’s Nikki and Trace. And this is Hannah Richardson, Carly Owens, and Morgan Sinclair,” she concluded, gesturing to the slender blond, baby-faced brunette, and the voluptuous red-head, respectively.

“Hi,” I said, giving an awkward wave.

“Hello,” said Morgan coolly. Her sea-green eyes shifting up from her Blackberry as she summed me up.

“Nice to meet you,” added Hannah. Her smile was lopsided though welcoming. “I think we’re in chemistry together?”

“Yeah. I think so,” I agreed and sat down in between her and Taylor, with Nikki directly across from me. Morgan, Carly and Ben were on her free side.

“So how’s Weston treating you?” asked Ben. “Is it everything the brochure claimed it would be?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “It’s fine—good. Everyone’s been really nice.”Well, almost everyone.

“Fine? Nice?” he chortled and took a sip of his soda. “Come on, you can do better than that. Grade our paper.”

“It’s school,” I shrugged impassively. “What else is there to say?” I’d moved around enough to know that most schools fell into the “once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all” category, but I didn’t bother saying that part out loud. Maybe he thought his school was more special than the rest of them. I didn’t want to burst his bubble.

“Did you go to a private school before, too?” asked Carly. She was twirling a strand of her shoulder-length, chestnut hair around her finger, seemingly disinterested, though her wide set caramel eyes pinned me with their full attention.

“No, it was public.”

“I went to a public school once.” She said it proudly as though it were this incredibly rare event only few experienced.

“You did not,” barked Morgan.

“Yes I did,” she insisted. “For like half a semester, before we moved here.”

Silence.

Awkward.

“That’s nice,” I said, unsure of how else to respond.

Nikki stared at me across the way before bringing her elbows onto the table and interlocking her fingers under her chin, feigning interest. “So where do you hail from,Jenna?”

“It’s Jemma.”

“Jem-ma,” she repeated, exaggerating my name as she said it. It sounded like she was making fun of me, and worse, she was using my own name to do it.

I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and pretend not to notice. “I was living in Cape Coral before. It’s a little coastal town in southwest Florida,” I answered nervously, then glanced around the crowd, trying my best to appear friendly—nonthreatening. I wasn’t particularly in the market for any more trouble than I already had.

“Why’d you leave?” she asked. Her eyes were a sharp, almost translucent aqua that kind of gave me the creeps. “I mean, you must have been all the rage back in Cape Whatever.”

“Nikki,” said Trace, reproaching her. It was the first time I heard his voice—smooth and deep, with sort of an edge to it.

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