The Lost Prince

“Okay. Wow.” She sounded surprised, but not angry, not yet. “That’s … not what I was expecting.”

“Get used to it.” Inwardly, I cringed at the sound of my own voice. I was being a dick; I was fully aware of that. I was also fully aware that I was murdering any hope for acceptance in this place. You didn’t talk this way to a cute, popular cheerleader without becoming a social pariah. She would go back to her friends, and they would gossip, and more rumors would spread, and I’d be shunned for the rest of the year.

Good, I thought, trying to convince myself. That’s what I want. No one gets hurt this way. Everyone can just leave me alone.

Except … the girl wasn’t leaving. From the corner of my eye, I saw her lean back and cross her arms, still with that lopsided grin on her face. “No need to be nasty,” she said, seeming unconcerned with my aggressiveness. “I’m not asking for a date, tough guy, just your name.”

Why was she still talking to me? Wasn’t I making myself clear? I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to answer her questions. The longer I spoke to anyone, the greater the chance that They would notice, and then the nightmare would begin again. “It’s Ethan,” I muttered, still staring at the wall. I forced the next words out. “Now piss off.”

“Huh. Well, aren’t we hostile.” My words were not having the effect I wanted. Instead of driving her off, she seemed almost … excited. What the hell? I resisted the urge to glance at her, though I still felt that smile, directed at me. “I was just trying to be nice, seeing as it’s your first day and all. Are you like this with everyone you meet?”

“Miss St. James.” Our teacher’s voice cut across the room. Kenzie turned, and I snuck a peek at her. “I need to speak with Mr. Chase,” Miss Singer continued, smiling at Kenzie. “Go to your next class, please.”

Kenzie nodded. “Sure, Miss Singer.” Glancing back, she caught me looking at her and grinned before I could look away. “See ya around, tough guy.”

I watched her bounce back to her friends, who surrounded her, giggling and whispering. Sneaking unsubtle glances back at me, they filed through the door into the hall, leaving me alone with the teacher.

“Come here, Mr. Chase, if you would. I don’t want to shout at you over the classroom.”

I pulled myself up and walked down the aisle to slouch into a front-row desk. Miss Singer’s sharp black eyes watched me over her glasses before she launched into a lecture about her no-tolerance policy for horseplay, and how she understood my situation, and how I could make something of myself if I just focused. As if that was all there was to it.

Thanks, but you might as well save your breath. I’ve heard this all before. How difficult it must be, moving to a new school, startingover. How bad my life at home must be. Don’t act like you know what I’m going through. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my life. No one does.

If I had any say in it, no one ever would.

I got through my next two classes the same way—by ignoring everyone around me. When lunchtime rolled around, I watched the students filing down the hall toward the cafeteria, then turned and went in the opposite direction.

My fellow classmates were starting to get to me. I wanted to be outside, away from the crowds and curious looks. I didn’t want to be trapped at a table by myself, dreading that someone would come up and “talk.” No one would do it to be friendly, I was fairly certain. By now, that girl and her friends had probably spread the story of our first meeting through the whole school, maybe embellishing a few things, like how I called her awful names but somehow came on to her at the same time. Regardless, I didn’t want to deal with angry boyfriends and indignant questions. I wanted to be left alone.

I turned a corner into another hall, intent on finding an isolated part of the school where I could eat in peace, and stumbled across the very thing I was trying to avoid.

A boy stood with his back to the lockers, thin shoulders hunched, his expression sullen and trapped. Standing in front of him were two larger boys, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, leering down at the kid they had pinned against the wall. For a second, I thought the kid had whiskers. Then he looked at me, quietly pleading, and through a mop of straw-colored hair, I caught a flash of orange eyes and two furred ears poking up from his head.

I swore. Quietly, using a word Mom would tear my head off for. These two idiots had no idea what they were doing. They couldn’t See what he really was, of course. The “human” they had cornered was one of Them, one of the fey, or at least part fey. The term half-breed shot through my mind, and I clenched my fist around my lunch bag. Why? Why couldn’t I ever be free of them? Why did they dog me every step of my life?

“Don’t lie to me, freak,” one of the jocks was saying, shoving the boy’s shoulder back into the lockers. He had short, ruddy hair and was a little smaller than his bull-necked companion but not by much. “Regan saw you hanging around my car yesterday. You think it’s funny that I nearly ran off the road? Huh?” He shoved him again, making a hollow clang against the lockers. “That snake didn’t crawl in there by itself.”

“I didn’t do it!” the half-breed protested, flinching from the blow. I caught the flash of pointed canines when he opened his mouth, but of course, the two jocks couldn’t see that. “Brian, I swear, that wasn’t me.”

“Yeah? So, you calling Regan a liar, then?” the smaller one asked, then turned to his friend. “I think the freak just called Regan a liar, did you hear that, Tony?” Tony scowled and cracked his knuckles, and Brian turned back to the half-breed. “That wasn’t very smart of you, loser. Why don’t we pay a visit to the bathroom? You can get reacquainted with Mr. Toilet.”

Oh, great. I did not need this. I should turn around and walk away. He’s part faery, my rational mind thought. Get mixed up in this, and you’ll attract Their attention for sure.

The half-breed cringed, looking miserable but resigned. Like he was used to this kind of treatment.

I sighed. And proceeded to do something stupid.

“Well, I’m so glad this place has the same gorilla-faced morons as my old school,” I said, not moving from where I stood. They whirled on me, eyes widening, and I smirked. “What’s the matter, Daddy cut off your allowance this month, so you have to beat it out of the losers and freaks? Does practice not give you enough manhandling time?”

“Who the hell are you?” The smaller jock, Brian, took a menacing step forward, getting in my face. I gazed back at him, still smirking. “This your boyfriend, then?” He raised his voice. “You got a death wish, fag?”

Now, of course, we were beginning to attract attention. Students who had been averting their eyes and pretending not to see the trio against the locker began to hover, as if sensing violence on the air. Murmurs of “Fight” rippled through the crowd, gaining speed, until it felt as if the entire school was watching this little drama play out in the middle of the hall. The boy they’d been picking on, the half-breed, gave me a fearful, apologetic look and scurried off, vanishing into the crowd. You’re welcome, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Well, I had stepped into this pile of crap—I might as well go all out.

“New kid,” grunted Brian’s companion, stepping away from the lockers, looming behind the other. “The one from Southside.”

“Oh, yeah.” Brian glanced at his friend, then back at me. His lip curled in disdain. “You’re that kid who shanked his cellmate in juvie,” he continued, raising his voice for the benefit of the crowd. “After setting fire to the school and pulling a knife on a teacher.”

I raised an eyebrow. Really? That’s a new one.

Scandalized gasps and murmurs went through the student body, gaining speed like wildfire. This would be all over school tomorrow. I wondered how many more crimes I could add to my already lengthy imaginary list.

“You think you’re tough, fag?” Bolstered by the mob, Brian stepped closer, crowding me, an evil smile on his face. “So you’re an arsonist and a criminal, big deal. You think I’m scared of you?”

At least one more.

I straightened, going toe-to-toe with my opponent. “Arsonist, huh?” I said, matching his sneer with my own. “And here I thought you were as stupid as you look. Did you learn that big word in English today?”

His face contorted, and he swung at me. We were extremely close, so it was a nasty right hook, coming straight at my jaw. I ducked beneath it and shoved his arm as the fist went by, pushing him into the wall. Howls and cheers rose around us as Brian spun furiously and swung at me a second time. I twisted away, keeping my fists close to my cheeks, boxer style, to defend myself.

“Enough!”

Teachers descended from nowhere, pulling us apart. Brian swore and fought to get to me, trying to shove past the teacher, but I let myself be pulled off to the side. The one who grabbed me kept a tight hold of my collar, as if I might break free and throw a punch at him.

“Principal’s office, Kingston,” ordered the teacher, steering Brian down the hall. “Get moving.” He glared back at me. “You, too, new kid. And you better pray you don’t have a knife hidden somewhere on you, or you’ll be suspended before you can blink.”

As they dragged me off to the principal’s office, I saw the half-faery watching me from the crowd. His orange eyes, solemn and grim, never left mine, until I was pulled around a corner and lost from view.

CHAPTER TWO

HALF-BREED

I slumped in the chair in the principal’s office, arms crossed, waiting for the man across the desk to notice us. The gold sign on the mahogany surface read Richard S. Hill, Principal, though the sign’s owner hadn’t given us more than a glance when we were brought in. He sat with his eyes glued to the computer screen, a small, balding man with a beaky nose and razor-thin eyebrows, lowered into a frown. His mouth pursed as he scanned the screen, making us wait.

After a minute or two, the jock in the chair next to mine blew out an impatient sigh.

“So, uh, do you need me anymore?” he asked, leaning forward as if preparing to stand. “I can go now, right?”

“Kingston,” the principal said, finally glancing up. He blinked at Brian, then frowned again. “You have a big game this weekend, don’t you? Yes, you can go. Just don’t get into any more trouble. I don’t want to hear about fights in the hallways, understand?”

“Sure, Mr. Hill.” Brian stood, gave me a triumphant sneer, and swaggered out of the office.

Oh, that’s fair. Jock-boy was the one who threw the first punch, but we don’t want to jeopardize the team’s chance of winning the game, do we? I waited for the principal to notice me, but he had gone back to reading whatever was on the computer. Leaning back, I crossed my legs and gazed longingly out the door. The ticking of the clock filled the small room, and students stopped to stare at me through the window on the door before moving on.

“You’ve quite the file, Mr. Chase,” Hill finally said without looking up.

I suppressed a wince.

“Fighting, truancy, hidden weapons, arson.” He pushed back his chair, and those hard black eyes finally settled on me. “Is there anything you’d like to add? Like assaulting the school’s star quarterback on your very first day? Mr. Kingston’s father is part of the school board, in case you did not realize.”