CHAPTER 6

EMERSON

I walk away from them without looking back, chin up, spine straight, every step deliberate —

Somewhere behind me, I hear people already whispering. I can't make out most of it, but I catch "new girl" a couple times.

“So I fucking stood up for myself. Big fucking deal.”

Let them talk.

I didn't come here to win a popularity contest, collect approval points, or audition for a place in the school’s little social hierarchy.

If refusing to bow to some bully football player means I’m suddenly the girl everyone has something to say about?

Fine. They can talk.

Besides, if they’re already talking about me before lunch, I must be making an impressive first impression.

I pull my schedule out of my bag — a crumpled printout I've already folded and unfolded a dozen times since orientation — and squint at it like it might rearrange itself into something legible.

Wilder Hall, Room 214. Great. Wonderful. I have no idea where Wilder Hall is, and the campus map app on my phone has apparently decided this is the perfect moment to spin its little loading wheel into infinity.

I turn one way, then the other, trying to get my bearings.

Everything here looks the same — brick buildings with ivy doing its best impression of decoration, students moving in loose, confident streams like they've all memorized this place in their sleep.

A guy on a longboard nearly clips my shoulder. A girl walks past deep in conversation, laughing at something on her phone, not even glancing my way.

Nobody looks lost here. Nobody looks like they just got cornered at their locker by three guys built like furniture.

I exhale, long and slow, and tell myself the shakiness is just adrenaline. Not fear. I don't do fear.

That's not entirely true, and I know it. But it's the version of myself I'm choosing to believe for the next five minutes, because the alternative is standing in the middle of a courtyard having a quiet meltdown over a boy with a superiority complex and two friends who look like they were grown in a lab specifically to intimidate freshmen.

I think about the look on his face right before he stepped back. Not quite anger.

Something closer to recalculation, like I'd thrown off a math problem he thought he already knew the answer to. It shouldn't feel as satisfying as it does.

I shouldn't be replaying it at all — I have a class to find, a campus to survive, and exactly zero interest in becoming a cautionary tale by the end of my first week.

Okay. Concentrate, Em. Or you're going to be late for your very first class, and then the whole "fearless new girl" thing is going to look a lot less impressive when you're the one scrambling in ten minutes after the door's already closed.

"Wilder Hall," I mutter under my breath, turning in a slow circle.

"Wilder Hall, Wilder Hall—"

My phone finally loads the map. Small mercies. I squint at the little blue dot, trying to make sense of which direction counts as forward, when a voice cuts through the noise of the courtyard like it's got nowhere else to be.

"Hey, new girl, wait up!"

A burst of bubbly laughter comes tearing down the corridor behind me. I turn to find a fiery little redhead jogging to catch up, breathless and grinning like she just watched a car crash and loved every second of it.

"What the fuck was that? I know you're new and all, but fuck. You just threatened to go to war against River Knight."

"River Knight." I feel the shape of his name on my lips, testing it. "Oh. So that's his name."

"Yeah, that's his name. And I'm Tessa," she says, falling into step beside me.

"And I can't believe you just did that. Do you have a death wish? Because that's what you just got yourself."

"Please," I scoff. "Guys like him need to be put in their place every now and then."

Tessa laughs — a short, disbelieving bark of a sound — and shakes her head like she's still trying to process what she watched.

"Okay, first of all, I need you to understand something. River Knight doesn't get 'put in his place.' River Knight is the place. His dad basically funds half the athletic department, and I watched him make a senior cry last year for spilling a drink on his shoes. A guy. Cried. In public."

"Sounds like a great guy."

"That's not the point!" Tessa throws her hands up.

"The point is nobody talks to him like that. Ever. And you just did it in front of Jax and Knox, which means by lunch the entire campus is going to know exactly who you are."

"Good," I say. "I was getting tired of being 'new girl.'"

Tessa stares at me like I've grown a second head. Then, slowly, the horror on her face cracks into something like delight.

"Oh my god. You're either the bravest person I've ever met or the dumbest. I genuinely cannot tell yet."

"Can't it be both?"

"It can absolutely be both."

I slow to a stop and turn, watching her jog the last few steps to close the distance. Up close, she's all restless energy — bouncing slightly on her heels even standing still, red hair catching the light.

I cross my arms and give her a slow once-over

"Okay, so which is it," I say.

"Are you one of his followers, sent to warn me off before I do any more damage to his precious reputation? Or is this a genuine concern for my well-being from a complete stranger?" I tilt my head.

"Because I have to say, the enthusiasm is throwing me off. If you're here to threaten me, you're doing it with entirely too much joy."

Tessa presses a hand to her chest like I've wounded her.

"Rude. I'll have you know I am one hundred percent Team Chaos, not Team River."

"So not a warning."

"God, no. I mean — okay, technically it's also a warning, because you do need to know what you just did. But mostly I'm just—" she gestures vaguely at all of me,

"—fascinated. Nobody talks to River like that. Nobody. I've seen TAs flinch when he walks into a room. Don't get me wrong — him and his friends, 'the Trinity' as they're known around here, make all my lady bits scream in the best kind of ways. But he's an ass. They all are." She waves a hand dismissively.

"Besides, he's not the type to send someone to do his dirty work. He likes to get dirty himself. Real fucking dirty."

"He's not that scary."

"He made a boy cry... Over shoes."

"And?."

Tessa studies me for a second, head tilted.

"You're either about to become the most interesting person on this campus," she says,

"or you're about to get flattened. I genuinely can't tell which yet. But either way, I want front row seats."

I consider her, for a moment.

Okay. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt — she seems harmless enough.

Still, one question keeps snagging in the back of my mind, refusing to let go.

What exactly is Lisa to River, that he'd gone apeshit crazy over a few words I said to her?

"Who's Lisa," I say, "and why does he care so much what happens to her?"

"Nobody actually knows what the deal is between them. Not really.

"So what, they used to date?" I ask,

"Nobody's ever confirmed it. But you don't get that kind of reaction over nothing. Trust me — you say her name around River and it's like flipping a switch. I've seen it happen exactly twice, and both times it wasn't pretty."

"Good to know I apparently the third."

"Yeah third." Tessa grins, delighted all over again. "Congratulations. You're basically a cautionary tale already, and it's not even nine a.m."

I don't answer that.

"That's me," Tessa says, nodding toward a building on the far side of the quad.

"Try not to start any more wars before lunch, yeah?"*

"No promises."

She laughs, already backing away, "I like you, new girl."

I watch her go, then glance down at my schedule one more time, at Wilder Hall, Room 214, at the version of my first day I'd actually planned on having — quiet, unremarkable, forgettable.

So much for that.

I square my shoulders and look around — and immediately deflate.

Fuck. I still don't know where my class is.