Chapter One

When Ena wanders into the town's forbidden forest (or forêt interdite as the locals like to call it) on a dare, she doesn't expect it to change her life.

I have two options. A) Stare at the clock for the rest of the period, guilt free, or B) stare at Brandon Matther for the remaining twenty-five minutes and hope he doesn't catch me. Easy pick. I glance backwards toward the clock for the bazillionth time and find that only about a minute has passed since I last looked at it. I look slightly to my right and see a head of shaggy, brown hair. His text book is in his lap, and so is his open cell-phone. The buttons make a muted sound as he pushes them. I watch him silently for a few seconds, copying his text-book-in-lap technique so he doesn't catch me.

"Okay, class," Ms. Scott says. I nearly jump out of my seat. Usually she just sits at her desk watching YouTube videos of puppies or some other stupid, useless thing like that. Rarely does she ever actually address her students. Ms. Scott fiddles with the golden name tag pinned to her shirt. "I have a class assignment for you all. You'll work with the people I assign you with...now, if I could just find my list," she drawls on, searching through her top desk door for the thin sheet of paper that contains our partners names, and possibly, my social death.

You see, the caste system here at RidgeWay is very specific, and in a way, fragile. You have to pick the right lunch table, the right friends, the right look, and especially the right school project partner. Even if it's not your choice, you could get associated with the wrong people, which would be a total drag on your social life. Get paired with a nerd, you get a good grade, but a bad reputation. Get paired with a freak, and you'll forever be known as that goth kid's friend. Get paired with someone way out of your league, and you'll have DESPERATE written on your forehead.

My teacher finally finds the crumpled up sheet of paper at the bottom of her disorganized desk. "Aha!" she says, holding it up like it's a battle trophy. "Okay, Aliza Ashnon, you're with Jack Carly," both students groan. "Ellie Alexxandra, you're with Shayia Neal..." and so on and so on. My last name, being the only one starting with a "Z" in class is the last on the list, therefore, the last to be called, unless I get paired with someone of a sooner alphabetical last name. Please don't be a freak. Or a nerd. Or a jock. Actually, considering my social status, a jock wouldn't be so bad...wait, isn't there an odd number of people in this class? 29 right? "Ena Zara and-," just then the door swings open, and a dark haired, pale skinned boy is lead in by the assistant principle.

"Sorry to interrupt you class, Angie. Why don't you take a seat, right over there?" The assistant principal points to the only empty seat. The seat right in between me and Brandon Matther. That's just great.

"Oh. Yeah. Class, this is uhh...Damon...." Ms. Scott grabs her attendance sheet for last-name clarification, "Damon Triste." Damon grabs his bag and heads over towards me. Oh no. This cannot be happening. This foreign freak is so not sitting by me and-

"Hey," he says under his breath. He flashes his ultra-bright, flawless smile at me. Oh great. Just what this school needs. Another jock wannabee who's head is filled with air. I roll my eyes.

"What do you want?" I say harshly.

"I'm sorry, but did I do something wrong here?" he asks, pretending to be offended, a playful nature behind his hurt sounding words.

"Yes. You were born. Now, can you move? Or shut up? I'm trying to do my work here."

"Well, Ms. Zara, why don't you work with Mr. Triste, since you two seem to be getting along so well over there," Ms. Scott says in the most authority-driven voice she can muster.

"What? But I wasn't even-,"

"Save it for someone who cares," she says before going on to explain the rest of her project. Damon smirks at me. I smirk back. I pretend to turn back to my "studies" when a note lands on my lap. It's folded four times. I open it quickly and silently, a trick all sophmore social butterflies acquire, and skim through the words. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse.

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I walk out of the classroom door, silently fuming. I see Sam, a familiar face for over six years, waiting by the door for me. "Hey," he says, choosing to overlook my obvious bad attitude. I keep walking. "Hey, Ena, what happened?"

"New kid," I mumble.

"That it?"

"No,'' I sigh. I hold out the note.

"'Meet me at the forêt interdite tonight at ten or you'll regret it. Much hate, Allyssa.'" he reads out loud. "Wow. Harsh," he comments. I nod.

"And the worst part is, that if I don't show up she'll tell about-," I cut myself off short.

"Tell about?" Sam prods.

"Nothing. Never mind. Just disregard everything I say."

"Okay then? Anyways, what grade did you get on that biology project?" I let out a sigh of releif. Good old Sam, never prodding into anybody else's business. Now if I can just get past Zoey...

"Hey guys," says a voice behind me. Wow. She has perfect timing for always coming in at the wrong times. "Ooh. En, why do you look so pissed off?" she asks. So much for getting anything past Zoe.

"Oh nothing. It's just....the water fountain-."

"It's Allyssa again, isn't it?" she asks, moving closer and closer with each pressing question.

"No..." I say quietly.

"It is! I so knew it!" Zoe's long, brown hair swings in front of her face as she walks next to me. A random senior walks by and waves at her.

"Hey Zoe," he mumbles. She waves in return. I roll my eyes. Typical RidgeWay boy behavior. Or should I say beast behavior. Ever since freshman year (aka, last year), boys (beasts) have been all over Zoe. Appearantly she's "hot". But I honestly don't see it. She has the same brown hair and green eyes that I've seen all my life. Must be a hormonal thing, or something.

"Who the heck was that?" Sam asks, a little bit jelous. He puts his hand in hers protectively. I almost gag. I mean, I'm happy for Zoe, for both of them, but seeing your best-friends-since-kindergarten making out in the hallways or hugging in between classes can be a little bit on the akward side. Especially when you're just standing there, alone, wondering what to do until they come up for air and you can distract them.

"No one, you don't have to worry," Zoe says in her "calming voice". "What is that?" she asks, grabbing the still crumpled up note in my hand.

"Oh nothing," I say, snatching it back. We're almost to my classroom now, so I try to run ahead of them. Zoe grabs my arm and pulls me into one of the side hallways the school has. It's basically a small room with no windows. You can find one of the right side of any main hallway. "Hey!" I try to pull back. Being five-two does have it's drawbacks sometimes. Zoe grabs the note again and quickly opens it. Sam blocks my access to her, so I'm stuck just sitting and waiting for her response.

"You realize she's going to make you go in there. On a dare," Zoe says. She looks so confident.

"How do you know?" I ask. But then again she's always right. Zoe just smiles at me. "You're right," I sigh. "What do I do?"

"You go."

"What? You honestly expect me to survive out there alo-,"

"You go, but I come with you," she says. She sees my doubting expression. "I'll be at the edge of the forest. Those wuss's won't go farther than the 'NO TRESSPASSING' sign. We meet up, go deep enough into the forest so they can't see us, and make a run for it." Well, that did sound like a very good plan...

"Fine. I'll do it." The bell rings shrilly, and I head off to my last period class. Sam and Zoe exchange devilish grins. I can tell Sam's not going to be in Home Ethics with me today.

Author's Note

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