After that, Ranger stalks off and disappears, leaving me with the enigmatic Church. The only thing I know about him is that he's a caffeine and coffee addict. Today, he's got an iced German chocolate mocha which, apparently, is really just a mocha with some coconut flavoring.

“All that sugar can't be good for you,” I tell him, but he just puts the straw in his mouth and smiles cheerily, like he really is the golden boy of the school. I mean, there is Eugene Mathers, the star of the football team, but I've only ever seen him a handful of times, and Church definitely has a bigger following.

“I quite like sugar,” he says, his smile turning into a grin. “Are you concerned about cavities, Mr. Carson? If I were you, I'd be more concerned with knives or nooses.”

“Not funny,” I tell him, but he chuckles. Clearly, we have different senses of humor. I imagine Church's is much darker than mine. He's probably the sort to laugh at a funeral. He just smiles at me so prettily, crinkling up his eyes at the corners as he leaves me at the door to my first class.

Just as I'm about to walk in, one of the other boys steps up behind me and cuts a hole in the bottom of my backpack, spilling all my stuff on the floor.

Including some of my tampons.

I'm about to start my period, so I had a few with me …

My cheeks go bright red as the boys howl with laughter, and one of them picks one up off the floor, opening it and letting it dangle by the string.

“Whoa there, Carson,” one of the guys says with a laugh. I notice Eugene standing in the background, snickering with the others. “You got a fucking vagina or something?” The asshole holding the tampon chucks it at my face, and I catch it in mid-air.

“I have a girlfriend, dickhead. I'm sure I'm getting more action than you.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, and several of the boys sneer at me like the thought of me speaking up is just the last freaking straw.

“The hell did you say to me, you little shit?” the first boy shoves me so hard that I stumble back, tripping on my stuff and falling to my ass in front of him.

I should stay quiet, maybe cower, and hope he goes away.

Instead, all this crap that's been happening to me recently sends me into a frenzy. I'm up and on my feet, throwing myself at him before I can think better of it. The other boys stand back and watch, like this is some stupid rite of passage or something.

My fist goes flying, but the boy just sidesteps me, giving a sharp, aggressive grin before he comes at me, throwing a punch right at my face that I just know is going to break my nose. Or at least bloody it. I grimace, throwing my arms up and knowing it's already too late.

But then there's a flash of movement, and nothing happens.

When I crack my eyes open and drop my arms, I see Church standing there, cool and calm, his palm curled around the other boy's fist. Slowly, carefully, he releases him and the other guy steps back.

“Sorry, Church … I didn't see you there.”

Church's face is ice-cold, but then he throws up a blinding smile, the skin around his eyes all crinkled up with the pretty little expression.

“No worries, Mark. I'm sure it was all a misunderstanding, right?”

“I … well, we're tired of his shit. He gets out of PE. He gets his own room. He waltzes around here and ignores us when we're just trying to be nice to him. He deserves to know his place, right Eugene?” the tampon guy turns and glances over his shoulder for confirmation.

“Mark's got a point, Church,” Eugene says, shrugging and then giving this patronizing little smile. He's a handsome guy, sure, but there's just something I don't like about him. I thought the same thing the first time I saw him. Now I'm sure of it. I wonder if he's in on any of this mystery BS? I wonder as Church's smile slides off of his face, leaving that empty void where his feelings should be.

He points at me.

“Do you see this man?” he asks, and Mark snickers.

“I see a boy, but no man,” he interjects, and Church's honey gaze swings over to him, his irises so dark they look brown instead of their usual amber color. Mark shuts his trap real quick.

“Chuck Carson over here, he belongs to the Student Council.” There's a murmuring among the group, and Eugene rolls his poop-colored eyes (sorry, I love brown eyes, but his are just sort of … like dirty toilet water) and pushes off the wall, uncrossing his arms.

“You assholes did the same thing with that jerk, Ross. We're tired of you rescuing dickheads off campus and threatening the rest of us to stay away from him. Ross is a total prick, and so is this kid.”

“He belongs to the Student Council,” Church repeats, and the twins appear out of nowhere, flanking me on either side. “Anyone has a problem with that, they'll deal with us directly.”

“Right. One of your cronies, but never you personally, huh? Are you scared to fight Church?”

“Oh, I really am,” Church says, smiling suddenly, and putting his hands on either side of his face. He shrugs his shoulders loosely, and bites his lower lip for a moment, before a look of terrifying glee takes over his expression. “I'm scared for you, Eugene. If I killed you on accident during the scuffle, I might go to prison.”

“You think you could take me, Church?” Eugene steps up to the Student Council President, but they're the same height, so there's not much intimidating to be done. I mean, Eugene has almost ridiculously huge muscles, like so big they're not quite sexy anymore. Church is lean and well-built, and honestly I'm pretty sure he'd kick Eugene’s ass in a fight.

I almost want to see.

“I know I can,” Church replies airily, reaching out his hand. Micah offers up that iced coffee from earlier. Apparently he was the one holding it. “And I could do it without spilling my drink. Care to test that theory?” Church sucks on his straw, and Eugene sneers, shaking his head. He's got a similar hair color to Spencer, but it's not quite as well done, more like he was trying to copy Spencer but failed. It's a poor imitation. What's that called in the writing world? Mosaic plagiarism? Yep. That's what it looks like.

“You can go all the way to hell. I'm not getting my ass suspended just so I can kick yours.” He takes off down the hall, Mark and the others following. They kick my tampons and school supplies as they pass by, shattering the spare pair of glasses I had in there.

Fantastic.

I bend down and start picking things up, and Tobias joins me. It only takes us a second to stuff it all in the front zipper pouch of my bag. The big section is completely ruined now. I'll have to use the spare that's in my closet back at Dad's house which is fine since I have to go up there anyway.

“What was that all about?” Micah asks as I rise to my feet and shrug into my backpack again. My hair's starting to grow out, the big flop of curls falling into my face. Tobias reaches out to push them off my forehead, making me flush. I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize he was doing it.

“Eugene’s getting uppity,” Church says, face closing down again. It really is disturbing to see him go from one extreme to the other. He reminds me of this crazy biker romance I read once, where the dude in charge of killing people—Glacier was his name, ironically—was like happy one second, and cold the next. The main character said he flipped moods like pages in a storybook. That's exactly how I feel about Church. “Let's keep an eye on him, shall we?”