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  Elise's smile widened as Magistra made her opening speech and proceeded to pass out blank note cards. As soon as she received hers, Elise filled it out. This would be the third year she had studied Latin with Magistra, and her memory was excellent. Every year Magistra had given this assignment; there really wasn’t a need for her to wait for the directions.

  Willowdale was a small school. After the required two years of a language, most students elected to drop it and take a study hall instead; the few who chose to continue were drawn from both of the Latin II periods, and made up one tiny class. Elise didn't blame her peers who had chosen not to advance to the next level-- she had heard that the work was grueling. However, she had found early on that she sincerely enjoyed learning about the ancient language and culture, and nothing could have persuaded her not to proceed with her studies in the subject.

  She was just finishing her description of a charming week she'd spent at the beach with her parents over the summer, rounding out her answer to the final section of the note card, when she heard Magistra call her. “Elysia, front and center, if you please!” Smiling lightly, Elise rose and strode to the front of the class, the heels of her boots snapping sharply on the linoleum and her skirts swaying around her legs.

  When she reached the lectern, she clasped her teacher's hand, whispering to her, “Salve, Magistra. It’s so good to see you again.”

  Magistra West gave her favorite student's hand a tight squeeze. “Discipuli, most of you know Elysia here. She’s my right-hand woman this year, and I'll be looking to her to help me out-- if she gives you a direction, chances are it came from me. Are we understood?”

  “Yes, Magistra,” the class chorused. Elise’s lips quirked in amusement when she saw the new boy obediently speaking with the others.

  “Now,” Magistra continued. “While I give you instructions on the proper procedures for filling out those note cards, Elysia will be handing out the usual start-of-the-year forms, including your Latin Club applications and your permission forms for our first class trip, which will take place in October.” She continued to speak, giving more directions as Elise began to hand out the specified forms. She didn’t mind being something of a teacher’s pet, she reflected. After all, she did prefer looking over the shoulders of her fellow students to sitting bored in her seat today- and there was no doubt she would have been bored. If she had learned nothing else in Latin class over the years, she had most definitely learned all of Magistra’s formats. She could have filled out the “Getting to Know You” note cards-- a sweet tradition of Magistra's-- in her sleep, she thought with a smile as she paused to give a suggestion to a junior boy who was struggling to think of what to write for, “Name something or someone that inspired you this summer.”

  She had to steel herself just a little to walk past the new boy. Whatever the strange effect of their eye contact had had on her the first time she'd seen him, if they were going to be in class together, she was going to have to treat him like any other person. She glanced down at his card as she came down the row of desks from behind, and actually stopped, her skirts swirling around his knee with her sudden halt. He was patiently waiting for instructions, but his card, as far as the class had gotten, was filled out in nearly flawless Latin.

  He turned to look up at her, his face suddenly mere inches from her own. She hadn't been able to make out the color of his eyes before, but now she saw that they were a dark, perfect blue, deep enough that she felt like she could drown in them.

  Biting her lip sharply, Elise got a grip on herself, raising her eyebrows in both skepticism and admiration. His full mouth twisted wryly, and in response, she dipped a slight, mocking curtsey. Elise couldn’t help but realize that even though she was standing over him, her face was just barely higher than his.

  Looking back down at his card, Elise smiled slightly, leaning over his arm to place the tip of her finger on the one flaw: the last word he had written. “This is in the wrong case,” she murmured, her lips a breath away from his ear. “It should be ablative, not nominative.”

  He grinned. “Perhaps I just hoped you’d catch me at it,” he whispered against her hair, his hand already moving to erase the offending noun. Elise shuddered, her breath catching in her throat. There was something seductive in his voice- and something strangely menacing. She actually put her hand down on his desk for a moment to steady herself, and he moved before she could take it away. His fingers overlapped around her wrist, and she gasped quietly as he squeezed, gently enough not to hurt her, but definitely hard enough that she could feel the strength she'd seen in his arms. Her heart thundered as he held her there, searching her eyes for something- she had no idea what. As swiftly as the moment began, it was over, and she glared daggers at him until he released her.

  “Remember to breathe,” he murmured condescendingly. Still glowering, Elise moved to the next desk, not quite running but definitely hurrying, refusing to turn around as she felt his eyes burning into her back.

  Elise made sure not to look at the boy again as she finished her rounds, but she had to pass him again to collect his completed card. To her relief, he simply tilted his chin absently at her when she picked it up, his attention focused on Magistra as she talked about her expectations for the class in the coming year. Elise didn’t want to admit it, but between the odd reaction she'd had meeting his eyes a few days ago and the way she'd gone weak-kneed when all he did was grab her wrist, she was becoming more than a little wary of him, almost afraid. That he seemed able to dictate her responses at all worried her; he seemed like the sort who would be in charge no matter what, and Elise didn’t give up control easily. She shivered as she resumed her seat, having pointedly handed the cards back to Magistra without looking at his again. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know his name-- really, she wasn’t sure if she wanted anything to do with him. She suddenly had a strange feeling that it would not end well for her at all.

  With an enormous act of will, she put the new boy out of her mind, resolving to let her tumbling emotions on the subject cool before she tried to decide anything. Elise had long ago learned that she needed to separate herself from her impulses before she made decisions; a case where someone was able to exercise this much power over her was probably not the ideal time to rethink that policy.

  Elise was so lost in her thoughts that the class flew by. They had no work to do, it being the first day of school, so Elise felt safe tuning out Magistra’s lecture and instructions. It was all on the syllabus, after all. Besides, as one of only five students who had continued from her section of Latin II into Advanced Latin, it was her prerogative to ignore lessons-- or at least, that was what she told herself now. She laughed a little at the thought, and apparently timed it well, because the rest of the class was laughing at one of Magistra’s numerous jokes. Glancing around, she saw the other four students she already knew scattered around the room, chuckling as well. There was amiable Narus, sarcastic Sertorius, dramatic Tullia, and bubbly Serena. They had been in class together going on three years now, and whether or not she liked them as people, she respected their abilities and drive. Advanced Latin was not in any way an easy class to take, and if this was all that was left of them, then more than twenty of their Latin II classmates had dropped the subject-- and that wasn't counting the other Latin II class, which had sent a mere six more students up to the next level. The eleven of them would bond somewhat, as this tiny class always did, over their dedication to learning and the year of camaraderie. Elise looked forward to the shallow, short-lived connection between them.

  The bell rang, and Elise stood slowly to gather her things, content to wait until the stampede to exit the building was over. As she did so, however, a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up, startled, into a pair of deep blue eyes. She gasped and nearly dropped the book she was holding, but quickly recovered herself and set the item carefully on her desk. Glancing swiftly around the room, she saw that all the other students had left and Magistra had stationed herself in the ha
llway outside. The new boy was still staring at her.

  He leaned down and brushed back a lock of her chestnut-brown hair to whisper in her ear, “We’re alone, Elysia.” He had obviously seen her eyes dart around. Suddenly, Elise was glad that Magistra had assigned them all names in Latin, so he didn’t know her real name. He could figure it out, certainly, so his momentary ignorance was a thin shield to hide behind. Still, it was better than nothing, because something about him definitely frightened her.

  And yet, she couldn't help gasping once more at the alluring sound of his voice. He was standing so close she could feel the heat of his body-- she could even smell him, she realized. Without meaning to, she breathed in his scent and found herself almost intoxicated by it… He smelled like some indefinable spice and the forest after a rainstorm, and she found herself inhaling again, trying to breathe him in.

  With a supreme effort, Elise wrenched her mind back to her present situation, shaking her head abruptly to clear it and causing her long hair to cascade over her shoulders, with a few strands falling into her face. Without thinking, she shoved this threatening boy away from her, taking a step back as she did. He looked down into her eyes, and she read surprise on his face.

  “Congratulations,” he murmured dryly, and Elise found that she could still think while he spoke this time. “No one has ever done that before.”

  “Are you enjoying being cryptic?” She snapped, her patience at an end. Elise was not about to allow herself to be pushed around, and she didn’t like to be frightened. This boy seemed to enjoy doing both. “What was that all about?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Cryptic?” He repeated, ignoring her second question, and shrugged. “I suppose I have no reason to be. You’ve just made yourself very interesting to me. That may not be the healthiest move in the long run… but it’ll keep you alive a little longer.” And with that, he brushed fingers that felt like ice along her cheek in a movement as light as the touch of a feather, pushing her hair back behind her ear before turning and striding out of the room. Elise sat back down, shaking, and didn’t move for quite some time.

  Dinner that night was a delicate dance of avoiding questions she didn’t want to answer. Elise’s mother and father pressed her for details of her day with an eagerness that spoke of nostalgia, and while she was generally okay with that, tonight she found herself editing out the new boy and the effect he had on her. It wasn't until she did that she realized she hadn't mentioned him the other day, either. She wasn't trying to lie to her mom and dad, she just wasn't ready for a conversation about all the complicated emotions, both hers and her parents’, that would go with her dating anyone-- and even if she had no intentions toward this boy, she knew that was where her parents' minds would immediately go. Elise’s parents both had very solid plans for her future―it was far simpler for everyone involved if she just went along with them. More than that, though, there was something primitively sensual about him and the way he frightened her that she felt uncomfortable discussing with her rather repressed parents. She didn’t want to stop telling them things, however, and ruin the vicarious lives they lived through her. Elise tried to be considerate of their feelings, understanding that they probably felt cheated out of reliving their own high school experiences by the fact that her participation in student life was minimal and far outside the mainstream.

  The conversation started predictably enough. “How was school, honey?” Elise's mother asked as Elise passed her a bottle of salad dressing.

  “Oh, the usual-- no work the first few days, just forms to fill out,” Elise replied, busily unfolding her napkin and laying it on her lap. "I left the ones you need to sign in my blue folder on the desk in the study."

  “Any activities look interesting?” Her father asked nonchalantly. Elise didn't miss the venomous glance her mother shot him.

  “I have Latin club starting up right away,” Elise said as she reached for the garlic bread. “Our first field trip is in October, and we're hosting a fundraiser not too long after, so there's planning to be done for that.” She hesitated, but figured she may as well dash her father's hopes that she would get involved in sports again. “I'm thinking about playing in the orchestra for the school musical in the spring-- rumor has it they're doing Les Miserables, and I'm in love with the score.”

  “That's nice, dear,” her mother said encouragingly, smiling at her daughter. “I would love to see you share your music with other people.”

  “When did you hear the music for this play?” Elise's father asked, looking confused. Elise understood-- she had never been involved in Willowdale's drama club, aside from turning down the supervisor's requests to play in the orchestra in previous years, so her sudden willingness to participate was unprecedented.

  “Remember last year, when I was using my study hall to practice on the piano in the choir room? Miss Brannon played the soundtrack, and I completely fell in love with it.”

  “But isn't Les Miserables depressing and all about people dying?” Her mother asked, looking suddenly concerned.

  Elise rolled her eyes. “The title translates to “The Miserable,” of course it's depressing. But it's also about love, hope, people's ability to change, and standing up for what you believe in even though you know you'll probably fail, so I think it's got some other themes, too.” She tried to keep the sarcasm in her voice to a minimum. Parental fussing she would take, but she detested when her mother played stupid.

  Her mom sighed. “Well, I hope all the depression doesn’t rub off on you. How are the other kids this year?”

  Elise blinked rapidly at the sudden topic shift. “Well, none are all that interesting. One or two new kids, but I suspect they won’t really travel in my circles.”

  “You have circles?” Her father asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Robert!” Her mother cried, casting him a furious look.

  “What?” Elise's father demanded, matching her glare. “I was just pointing out that Elise needs to spend more time with people her own age.”

  Elise cut in firmly. “I spend quite enough time with people my own age. When they can grow up, I’ll do it even more.”

  “Honey, your father and I are just worried about you,” her mother said, suddenly gentle. “We want you to have friends your senior year of high school. I understand it might be hard, but we don’t want you to miss out on all the experiences at this point in your life.”

  Her father gazed intently at a spot on her face just below her eyes. “Your mother’s right, Elise. You only go to high school once; the world just isn’t the same after you graduate. We don’t want you to have regrets.”

  “Sweetie, have you given any more thought to dating? Are there any boys you like? I mean, did you see anyone today...” Her mother's voice was hesitant, and she trailed off before she finished the thought. Elise held up a finger, putting her mother off while she chewed a mouthful of chicken. She knew what her mother was suggesting: that she might have seen some boy today at school, and realized that he’d gone through some ugly duckling transformation over the summer, turning into someone mature and desirable. What Elise couldn’t quite tell was if her mother actually thought this would be a good thing, or whether she was just parroting what parenting books said she ought to say to a daughter who was nearly eighteen years old and had never had a real boyfriend.

  She swallowed her food and looked her mother in the eye. “I would have told you if there was anyone. Quite frankly, I don’t have any need of a boyfriend. I’m going to England to study at Oxford, and that’s final. What do I need a boy for? High school relationships never go anywhere, anyway, so what are they but distractions?”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Her father said with finality. “Nice to know you’re keeping your head in the game.”

  “Well, yeah,” Elise said in her best approximation of a “ ditzy teenage girl” tone of voice, and having averted the potential crisis, turned her attention pointedly to her food.

  After dinner, however, Elise let her
emotions and doubts about her troublesome day come loose. Sitting on the polished black bench in front of the upright piano in the dining room, she let her fingers flow across the keys, challenging her honed skill by playing the most difficult pieces she knew. As her fingers flew, picking out both melody and harmony, she let her cares go and for a few minutes, worried more about where her hands fell on the little lacquered pieces of wood than she did about the new boy at school.

  She couldn’t avoid the subject forever, though, and finally, feeling drained and sated, she closed the lid over the keys and patted it lovingly. No matter how complicated or stressful her life became, she was always able to center herself again by getting lost in her music. So, calm and contained, she ambled upstairs to take a shower and think over the day’s complicated emotions.

  Without a doubt, the new boy weighed heavily on her mind. Now that she wasn’t around him, she wanted to pretend that he was just an odd boy trying to distinguish himself in a new high school. However, Elise was nothing if not honest with herself, and she recalled all too clearly the effect his tone, his touches, his glances, his very presence had on her. He saw her, it seemed, in a way that none of the other students in her school did. Everyone else was content to ignore her and be ignored. In that blur of faceless anonymity, he stood out in clear definition. That was in itself both terrifying and addictive. Shivering slightly, she turned up the water temperature and tipped her head back, trying to stay relaxed. As the hot water soaked through her thick hair and melted any remaining tension from her muscles, she allowed herself to reflect fully on what she felt when the new boy was around.

  She was suddenly and acutely annoyed that she had to think of him as “The New Boy.” In Latin class, she had been so preoccupied by how nervous he had made her that she had checked any curiosity. That in and of itself bothered her―she wasn’t about to let anyone push her around, and seemingly without any effort at all, this boy had her off balance and fidgety. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she had plenty of time to rectify her lapse in self-control and find out his name. She was quickly coming to understand that she was fascinated by him; just the memory of his powerful hand encircling her fragile wrist, trapping her effortlessly, sent shivers up her spine. What Elise absolutely needed to decide before she saw him again was whether those shivers were from fear or desire―and which was better.