Savannah

The following Tuesday, I found the answer. Mrs. Daniels had posted a notice on the dance-room doors inviting all pre-drill girls who hadn't made the dance team to apply for Charmers team manager. The applications were due Friday, and the new managers would be announced the following Monday. A quick glance through her open office door showed a stack of applications on the corner of her desk, just waiting for anyone to pick one up.

I was actually tempted.

On the one hand, becoming a Charmers manager would be totally masochistic. I'd have to watch the dancers practice every day while I stood around on the sidelines fetching stuff.

But on the other hand...what else did I have to do? I couldn't dance anymore. I'd promised not to do any other sports, either. I wasn't into art, chess, debate or the school yearbook. At least if I became a Charmers manager, I could be around dancing on a daily basis, if not directly participating in it. Which should keep the vamp council off my back, too, since I would technically be keeping my promise to them.

And at least I'd have something to do with all my extra time next year.

Before I could change my mind, I grabbed an application packet.

That afternoon, I rode home with Nanna in silence, the Charmers manager application burning a hole in my backpack. After supper while Nanna was gardening in the backyard, I found myself wandering through the house lost in thought about it.

Tiny prickles of sensation spread over my arms, as if I were at school and Tristan was around. Weird. Frowning, I went to the patio door to tell Nanna about it, then stopped.

She'd turned the gardening tools into a magically automated army of helpers.

It was past sunset out there, but moonlight flooded the huge garden that took up most of the backyard, giving me plenty of light, enough to see a small basket and a pair of garden clippers floating just above the plants nearest the house, the clippers darting here and there to snip off herbs that then drifted into the basket. Even in the moonlight, the clippers's neon-orange handles contrasted sharply with the surrounding greenery. Nanna had painted them herself so she wouldn't lose them in the yard. A Martha Stewart tip. Nanna was crazy about Martha.

Somehow, I doubted Martha had ever considered using magic to automate her tools while gathering herbs under the full moon, though.

Nanna was several yards away, kneeling on a cushion while she took more clippings. To her right, a shovel stabbed at some weeds near the fence that had turned into small bushes.

And she didn't even seem to need to look at her tools in order to magically tell them what to do. I'd always wondered how she had managed such a huge garden all year long by herself.

I slid open the patio door. Nanna glanced over her shoulder at me. "Oh! Hi, sweetie." She waved a hand, and all the tools fell to the ground lifeless.

"Aw, you don't have to stop them for me. That was really cool, Nanna! I didn't know you could do all that! How do you keep them going without even looking?"

Smiling, she resumed cutting some herbs in front of her. "Trade secrets, dear. I wish I could tell you, but..."

I sighed. "Clann rules."

She nodded.

"Well, you could at least keep going. I mean, you don't have to tell me how or anything. Just watching them was fun." And it was. For a minute there, I'd felt just like a little kid again, wanting to giggle and clap.

Her smile turned apologetic. "No, I'd better not. Wouldn't want any descendants to get suspicious and wonder whether I'm keeping my promise. Besides, it just seems rude to do magic in front of you when you're not allowed to use it, too."

Stupid rules.

"You've been awfully quiet today," she said as she continued to work.

"Mmm." Which reminded me about the Charmers manager application. And the promises I'd made to my father and the vampire council. Should I even bother asking Nanna for permission to apply? Or would she tell me it was against the vampire council rules just because it was related to dancing?

"Why don't you grab those clippers and help me gather herbs?"

I picked up the now lifeless clippers and basket and brought them closer to Nanna so we could still talk easily. I took a few cuttings, but kept getting distracted by the view around me. I should come out here at night more often. It was really nice. The air was clean with a hint of dew in it. It felt good to breathe it in, like it was cleaning out my lungs. And hopefully my head.

"Taking cuttings always clears my mind," she murmured. "Quick, name the plants you see."

It was an old game she'd taught me ages ago, and it still made me smile. "Lemon verbena. Chamomile. Basil. Wolfs-bane." I slowly spun in a circle, pointing out every plant I could see in the moonlight around us.

Smiling, she nodded her head in approval, every bit as regal as a queen. "Now...back to what's eating you today. Want to talk about it?"

"Um, yeah, I guess. But don't get mad or anything, okay?"

She gave me a sharp look. "Okay, spit it out."

"Well, the Charmers are taking applications this week for managers. They're going to pick them this weekend then announce their picks next week."

"And you want to apply."

This was where it got tricky. "I...don't know."

She laughed quietly. "What don't you know about it? Are you unsure you want to do the job, or are you unsure you'd be allowed to do the job?"

"Uh, both?"

Smiling, she sat back on her heels. "Do the managers dance?"

"No. Well, I think sometimes they might get the chance to fill in as alternate dancers. But obviously I'd have to tell the director no if she asked me to."

Nanna nodded. "And the rest of the job...what would you be doing?"

"Helping the team at fundraisers, practices and performances. Probably a lot of fetching stuff, cleaning up the costume and prop closets. Putting out good-luck notes for the football and basketball players' lockers on game days. Stuff like that."

"And every day you'd watch them dancing?"

I nodded.

"Would that make you happy?"

I chewed my lower lip for a few seconds, then sighed. "Yes and no. It's as close as I could get to it, at least. And I wouldn't be breaking any rules, right?"

She nodded, tying a clump of plants together before tossing them into the basket.

"And...I guess I'd sort of be a part of the Charmers team."

Nanna didn't say anything for a long time as she gathered more herbs. Finally she sighed. "This situation your parents put you in...I always knew it would come to something like this, that it would be hard on you, and unfair."

Her words made my throat tighten. I swallowed hard to try and loosen it.

"I think if you can be okay with the not-dancing-yourself part, then you might like being a manager for the dance team. It'd give you something to do, like a hobby. Maybe it would open up other options for you, too."

"Like what?" I scowled down at the clippers in my hand, testing their spring-loaded squeeze action.

"Like becoming a dance-team director or choreographer someday. If dancing is still your thing then, of course. There are ways to be a part of the dancing world without personally dancing. There are always ways to deal with the rules life gives you. Just because you can't have one thing in life doesn't mean you have to give it all up."

I looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

She raised her hands. "I'm just saying, is all."

"So you think I should do it?"

Slowly she rose to her feet, her knees cracking and popping. I knew from repeated experience that she'd only get annoyed if I offered to help her up. Stubborn Evans women. "I'm saying you've got my permission if you want to apply. It's up to you as to whether you go for it or not."

"Gee, thanks for the help in deciding." I shot her a wry grin as we headed for the house.

"And thank you for all the help with the herbs back there." With an equally wry grin of her own, she nodded at the still mostly empty basket hanging from my forearm.

I laughed. "Sorry. I was too busy thinking."

At the door, she patted my shoulder. "If you do decide to apply and need help with the application, let me know."

"Thanks, Nanna."

She opened the patio door, and we went inside. After we put away the cutting tools on a shelf near the door, she took the baskets of clippings and set to work hanging them to dry over the kitchen sink. I helped her tie my loose clippings into bunches with bits of green and blue yarn she had left over from old crochet projects. Then we got to the last bunch.

With a naughty grin that gave glimpses of the mischievous young girl she probably was once upon a time, Nanna waved a finger as if it were a magic wand, and the cuttings drifted to the window and tied themselves into place.

Who knew my grandma was so cool?

Grinning, I went to my room, flopped on my bed and pictured again the seemingly effortless way she had used magic right there in front of me, like it was as easy as breathing for her. There was no telling what else she could do, too. Did she use magic to make tea or cook or crochet when I wasn't around? She could definitely get a lot more done and faster that way. It had to be frustrating, or at the very least boring, for her to resist using it even when I could see.

If I could do magic, I'd do it all the time...to finish my homework, to help untangle and style my hair.

Maybe on the Brat Twins and Dylan, too.

Which of course was why I wasn't allowed to do magic.

Stupid rules.

But Nanna said the rules didn't have to stop me from doing everything. Like being a Charmers manager. The Clann and the vamps never said I couldn't do that. And the Clann kids seemed to prefer to rule the cheerleading squads instead of dancing, because not a single descendant was a Charmer. Maybe it was easier for them to get away with using magic in cheerleading without being so obvious?

Then again, from what little I'd seen and heard about the Charmers director, Mrs. Daniels, maybe the real reason no descendants ever made the team was because she wouldn't let them. She seemed like the type of person who wanted total control over her team. And everyone knew how the descendants' parents had a habit of taking over everything their kids were involved in.

Whatever the reason, the Charmers was a Clann-free zone. And that was reason enough for me to want to be a part of it in any way I could. If I could handle watching others dance without feeling miserable all the time.

After a few minutes of lying on the bed feeling restless, I gave in to the urge, dug the application out of my backpack and read over it. And felt my jaw drop.

I'd expected one of those simple forms that asked the usual boring questions about me...name, address, phone number, my hobbies and interests, maybe job skills or a short essay or two.

What I found was something way different. And challenging in an intriguing kind of way.

The packet was six pages long and filled with things like, "Suggest a good-luck game-day note for the volleyball teams," "Create a costume design using a long-sleeve unitard for the base, and only adding costume parts that can be quickly taken off or put on in between dance routines" and "Suggest a Charmers Spring Show theme, then design coordinating stage decoration."

I had plenty of ideas for the application. But I had only four days to get it all on paper in some kind of way that wouldn't look like a kindergartner did it.

I came back to the kitchen, where Nanna was busy prepping some of the freshly cut herbs for use in her various teas. I held up the application and winced. "Uh, you know how you offered to help?"

Nanna was true to her word. With her help, I managed to finish my application notebook just in time for Friday's deadline. But it was close, with a few late nights thrown in at the end to make sure I got it done in time. And I was pretty sure I'd never get out the glue and glitter from under my fingernails.

Mrs. Daniels had said in the packet's directions that she was looking for creativity. Well, she'd gotten it. I'd done every thing possible to demonstrate my creativity in that notebook, from shaping it like the Charmers knee-high white boots to using glitter paint and including paper dolls complete with changeable costume designs. The paper dolls were Mom's idea; hopefully the director would think they were creative instead of childish or crazy.

My name and pre-drill class number were on the cover, so I felt safe leaving the completed notebook on the director's desk after school on Friday.

Then all I could do was wait until Monday's pre-drill class.

Where I found a list of three names posted on the dance-room door under the heading Next Year's Charmers Managers. Two girls' names I didn't recognize topped the list.

And my name was at the bottom.

I should have been excited. After all, Nanna's and my hard work on the application notebook had won me a spot on the Charmers team, one that the vampire council shouldn't have a problem with. And being a Charmers manager might even turn out to be fun.

But in that moment, I didn't feel much of anything. I'd become a Charmers manager. Right now, all that meant was that I'd have something to do with my free time next year.

The weekend after school ended, I met the other two Charmers managers for the first time at the sophomore Charmers summer kick-off party. All thirteen new Charmers plus the managers had crowded into a small, two-story lake house owned by Bethany Brookes's parents on Lake Jacksonville.

I had only been to parties with my best friends and had no clue how to make small talk with strangers. But after introducing themselves, the other two managers, Keisha and Vicki, seemed as uncomfortable to be there as I was. Somehow, that made me feel a little less out of place.

When everyone trooped outside to the private pier, I was worried that I'd be the only one to sit in the shady area where the shoreline trees overhung the pier and lake house. All the dancers chose to strip down to their bikinis and roast themselves on towels by the water. But Vicki and Keisha sat beside me in the shade, too. And like me, they also opted to keep on their T-shirts and shorts over their swimsuits. Thank goodness. What with my natural paleness and tendency to burn at least once every summer, no way would I be baring any more skin here. Besides, I wouldn't want to accidentally blind anyone today. Everyone else looked like they spent their lives in a tanning bed.

While Keisha and Vicki chatted about their families, I overheard bits of conversations from the others on the pier. I'd expected everyone to be chatting about the upcoming sophomore year and what being a Charmer would be like. Instead, all they talked about was boys, who was dating whom, which couples had broken up and which girls in school slept around. At first, it made me tense. How would I ever manage to fit in on this team when I wasn't one of the dancers and I'd never even been on a date, much less had a boyfriend?

But after a few minutes, I realized listening to the Charmers was like listening to thirteen Michelles all vying to share the best tidbit of gossip. That made me smile and relax a little. After all, I didn't usually know half the people Michelle gossiped about every day at lunch, either, but she was pretty entertaining to listen to.

I learned more in that hour about my fellow classmates than I'd ever wanted to know. Just wait till I could relay it all to Michelle; she'd be thrilled for weeks.

A low buzzing in the distance on the lake changed the group's general topic of conversation as five boys approached on Jet Skis.

I had to fight hard not to laugh as the girls changed their poses to ones they seemed to think were sexier, their hands darting up to readjust their bikinis and smooth their hairstyles. As if they'd actually had a single strand out of place.

When the Jet Skis were a few yards away, several of the girls suddenly found their conversation partners terribly funny. But their natural giggles had changed to high-pitched, fake laughter.

Did I act that way around Tristan?

The boys pulled up to the pier. But no way could I keep watching the scene unfold and not laugh out loud. So I focused on Keisha and Vicki again instead, who had somehow gotten into a hot debate about whether wearing pink helped support sexist stereotypes. Judging by the conversation and the fact that Vicki was wearing a hot-pink bikini, it seemed Vicki loved the color and Keisha hated it.

"Hey, Savannah," a male voice called out.

I looked up. Greg Stanwick floated three feet away from me on a now-silent Jet Ski that rocked with the waves against the pier. His black hair was slicked back from his grinning face.

He hadn't spoken to me in months, not since the day we'd met last spring. Why would he be speaking to me now? Especially when he had thirteen other girls, most in revealing bikinis, whom he could talk to instead.

"Um, hi," I replied.

"Do you remember me? We met in the cafeteria a while back." He flashed me a huge grin that begged to be returned.

"Sure. Greg, right?"

"Yeah, Greg Stanwick. So how've you been?"

"Good, and you?"

"Doing great. Getting ready to graduate next year. Still playing soccer."

I nodded politely, wondering where in the world he was going with all of this.

"Is this party for something special?" His gaze flicked over the group then returned to me.

"Just the new Charmers and managers having a summer get-together." I could feel several pairs of eyes staring at me.

"Nice. You're a Charmer now?"

The muscles in my shoulders tightened. "Nope, just a manager."

He studied me for half a minute then grinned. "Want a ride?"

That made me blink. His grin stretched wider. I glanced over at our audience in time to see two other girls climbing onto Jet Skis with his friends. Apparently temporarily leaving the party was no big deal.

I'd never been on a Jet Ski before, but it looked like fun. "Uh, sure."

I gave Keisha and Vicki a quick wave, then got to my feet and walked over to the edge of the pier beside Greg.

He eyed my clothing. "You got a swimsuit on?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Might want to leave your shirt and shorts here or they'll get wet."

Uh-huh, still not happening. Blinding the guy by showing more of my pale skin before letting him drive us around on a fast-moving machine with no brakes was so not a good idea. "That's okay, I won't mind."

He shrugged, put a foot on the pier, and dragged the end of his Jet Ski around until it was parallel with the wooden platform. "Your chariot, my lady."

A laugh escaped me. "Um, how do I..."

He reached out, took my hand and placed it on his nearest shoulder. His hard muscle flexed beneath my touch. "Hold on and swing a leg over the seat."

Once I was seated behind him, he shot me a grin over his shoulder. "Might want to hang on."

As he started the engine, I had a sudden vision of myself flying off the end and doing a back flop into the water. The Charmers would laugh at me for months about it.

Wrapping my arms around his warm waist, I held on as the Jet Ski lurched forward with a loud gurgle.

I'd braced myself for a wave-jumping, crazy ride, but it was actually nice. Greg took me around the lake, pointing out houses whose owners he could name, plus his own family's house set back several yards from the shoreline. He stopped the Jet Ski about twenty yards from the shore so I could look at it.

"Is that your vacation home?" I didn't know much about Jacksonville High's senior class.

He had a great laugh, warm and genuine. "No, that's our permanent home."

"Must be nice living near the lake all the time."

"It's mostly nice. Though the water moccasins sometimes make our backyard parties a little too exciting."

"I can see why. And is that when you impress everyone with your manly snake-killing skills?"

"Uh, no." He twisted halfway toward me, his smile lopsided. "That's when my dog Jake impresses everyone with his snake-killing skills, while I run off screaming like a girl and grab a shovel."

I laughed. Waves from a passing boat bobbed the Jet Ski, making my thighs bump his hips. Hello. We were sitting a little too close. Self-conscious now, I loosened my hold on his waist, dropping my hands to my knees instead.

"So...are you seeing anyone?"

His question startled me so much I nearly forgot and met his gaze full-on. At the last second, my gaze stopped at his nose out of sheer habit. "No. Why?"

"So I'll know if I can ask you out on a date."

Suddenly I wished I hadn't answered him so quickly. Talk about uncharted waters here. If he asked, what would I-

"Would you like to?"

"To...?" I needed more time to think. Was I even interested in dating him? My friends all considered him gorgeous, and obviously the sophomore Charmers thought so, too. But he wasn't six feet tall with curly blond hair and green eyes I dreamed about on a regular basis. His voice was deep enough, but not that exact low rumble that made me shaky inside. Hanging out with him was nice, but he didn't make me yearn to be around him or know what he was thinking about.

He wasn't Tristan Coleman.

But he also wasn't in the Clann and off-limits. The council never said I couldn't date regular humans. And because he didn't make my body go all wonky when I was around him like Tristan did, being with Greg was easier, more comfortable. Like being a Charmers manager, I could take him or leave him. Which made him a much safer bet in case things didn't work out.

"Would you like to go out with me?" He had a nice smile. It made his brown eyes softer. But did I really want to go on a date with him?

"Maybe." I was answering my question more than his. But once I said it, it seemed a good enough answer for both of us. If I waited for the impossible, I would never have a life. Greg was here. He was interested. He was funny at times and good-looking. Why not go out with him and see what happened? "Okay, sure. Sounds like fun. Now are you going to take me back to the party or what? They're going to think you kidnapped me. Besides, I think I'm starting to burn a little here."

Eyebrows raised, he glanced at my arms. "Ouch, you're right. Next time, wear more sunscreen, okay? Then I can show you more of the lake."

Hmm. Next time, huh?

Smiling, I wrapped my arms around his waist again and hung on. And surprisingly, I didn't stop smiling until he dropped me off at Bethany's pier. Hanging out with Greg was a lot of fun. Maybe going on a date with him would be just as nice.

My smile disappeared when I realized how many pairs of eyes watched us. "Thank you for the ride."

"Anytime. See you around, Savannah Colbert."

I returned his smile, waiting for him to leave before I went to sit by Keisha again.

"Well," Keisha said, as if that was all she needed to say.

It was enough to push me into explaining in a whisper, "I met him a couple months ago. I think he just took me around on the Jet Ski to be nice."

"Uh-huh," she replied, her eyes more than a little curious.

Vicki leaned forward to stare at me past Keisha. "Ha, I saw his face. He wasn't just being polite. Did he ask you out?"

"Um..." I really didn't want to answer that with an audience of gossipy girls eavesdropping. I glanced at my watch then the circle driveway, visible past Vicki, and spotted Nanna pulling up right on time for the end of the party. "Oh, there's my grandmother. I'd better run. See you two next week at boot camp."

I jumped to my feet and said a general goodbye to everyone before making a quick escape.

The following week, Greg didn't call, of course. But I knew he wouldn't for one simple reason...I hadn't given him my home phone number, which was listed under Nanna's name. And none of my friends would give out my number.

I should have been upset about our date's delay. But running around in the sweltering hundred-plus-degree heat all week at the high school for the Charmers boot camp left me too tired to care about anything but cold showers and sleep each evening. And when I could think straight long enough to wonder about Greg, I kept picturing him calling every Colbert in the phone book and asking for me. No doubt that mammoth ego of his was getting frustrated. The idea made me grin.

I wondered if it would take him until the start of school in two months to find a way to get my phone number, or if he'd just give up. How fragile was Greg's ego? And how badly did he really want to go out with me?

I got my answer that Saturday at the annual Charmers team slumber party to celebrate the end of boot camp and the start of regular summer practices. We gathered at the main gym in the high school's sports and art building, the same place where we had all auditioned for the right to be Charmers. I kept my gaze away from the side of the gym where the judges had sat. I still wasn't sure I'd made the best decision that day. Who knew if the effect from my gaze could have overridden the council representative's vampire persuasion?

But it didn't matter anymore. I couldn't change the past and was tired of even thinking about it. Better to think about the future and how to fit in on this team.

Surprisingly, it turned out not to be hard at all to fit in with the Charmers. The team traditions definitely helped, because the managers were included in all of them just as if we were actual dancers on the team. We received the same sterling-silver team charm bracelets as the rest of the team, with the same team logo, boot and star charms symbolizing our team goals. Our names were included in the bowl when everyone drew for Secret Sis game-day gift giving. We learned about the team's rule to call each girl "Miss" and whatever her first name was, and that rule applied to us managers, too. And when Mrs. Daniels played our team's theme song for the year, Luther Vandross's version of "The Impossible Dream," I wasn't the only one who got a little teared up by the emotional music.

Suddenly, tenth grade didn't look so bad.

After the ceremonies and gift giving, the team played a long game of pillow fighting while balancing on one foot. It turned into a tournament, and I nearly won until Keisha yelled out my name and distracted me. One surprise wallop to the head from this year's new captain, Paula, and I put my foot down and lost.

"Miss Keisha!" I whined, making everyone laugh.

"Maybe next year," Captain Paula sang out with a smirk.

A loud pounding on the locked building's foyer doors made everyone jump and squeal.

Captain Paula ran to the gym doors, peeked out then yelled, "Pizza's here."

"That's us," Head Manager Amber said to the managers while climbing to her feet. Keisha, Vicki and I followed her out to the foyer, its linoleum freezing cold under my hot feet.

Wonder what we do if there's a fire? I thought as Amber unlocked the foyer's glass doors in a blast of heat to let in the delivery guy.

"Hello again, Savannah, ladies," Greg Stanwick greeted us from behind a stack of pizza boxes.

Stunned, my lips curved into a smile before I could think about it. "Hi, Greg."

We each took two boxes from him. He stared at me throughout the process, making me feel a little self-conscious as the summer heat made my T-shirt stick to my back.

I should probably say something to him other than hello. Then again, Amber was there and I was on official Charmers time, so maybe I shouldn't.

"Okay, we'll be right back with the receipt," Amber told him.

I gave him a sheepish smile goodbye and followed the head manager into the gym. While Amber had Mrs. Daniels sign the credit-card receipt, the rest of us set out the pizza boxes on the food table.

"Miss Savannah..." Amber joined us at the table. "Why don't you take this for me." She handed me the receipt and a pen.

Her expression was innocent-looking, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. Apparently she'd picked up something from Greg's greeting and approved of him.

I took the paper and pen back to him.

"So..." he said as he pocketed the receipt. "Do you have any idea how many Colberts there are in this area?"

I laughed. "I don't know. How many?"

"Four. Strange thing is, no Savannahs seem to live with any of them."

"Mmm. That's interesting to know. Of course, if you had simply asked for the correct number in the first place..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, but one corner of his mouth stayed up in a half smile. "Now may I please have your phone number?"

"Okay." Giving in, I reached for his wrist, turned his palm up and wrote my number on it. "I didn't know you worked at Pizza Shack."

"I don't. I talked one of my friends into letting me ride with him while he makes his deliveries tonight. Everybody knows about this little shindig y'all have every year."

I peered around him and saw the delivery car idling at the end of the cement ramp that led to the front foyer doors. The driver stuck out an arm through his open window and waved at me.

I laughed and waved back. "Nice friend. Though you could've just waited until school started and asked me for my number then."

"Wait two months to take you out? No way. Besides, you'd probably have a boyfriend by then. So do you mind if I beat out the competition and ask you for that date now?"

He thought he had competition for a date with me? My pulse sped up. "Um, sure, now's fine."

"Okay, how about next Saturday? I could pick you up at six for dinner and a movie?"

"Sounds great." I struggled to keep my smile casual. But inside I was leaping around shouting, My first date!

He smiled at me, and it was the nice smile I preferred. "Okay, I'll call you later and get directions to your house then."

Nodding, I stepped back, eased the door shut and watched him jog down the cement ramp to the waiting car. Then I returned to the gym, grinning so hard I must have looked like an idiot. But I didn't care. Greg was no Tristan Coleman, but he was funny, charming, easy to be around and pretty good-looking. And he'd just asked me out on my first date.

Amber laughed and gave me two thumbs-up, then promptly turned and told Captain Paula that I was dating Greg Stanwick.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of pizza, snacks, giggles and gossip as the team broke up into small groups to eat and lounge around on our sleeping bags and blankets. Thankfully, just like with Michelle, all my new teammates seemed to require from me was an interested listener who laughed or looked shocked, depending on what gossip they had to share. I fell asleep half worried that I would wake up with toothpaste in my hair and shaving cream on my face. But Mrs. Daniels must have forbidden pranking in order to preserve the team-bonding atmosphere. The party ended at nine the next morning when our parents came to pick us up. In the already muggy, way-too-early morning heat, the girls left in a flurry of laughter, sleepy chatter, hugs and the tinkling music our bracelets made when we moved. Music that I, too, carried everywhere I went now.

Nanna immediately noticed my smile. "Must have been some party."

The light feeling inside me bubbled out as laughter. "It was." I replayed the evening for her, hesitantly including the part where Greg asked me for a date.

"You just met this boy last night?"

"No. I met him a couple months ago in the cafeteria. Then I ran into him again at the lake party last week." I opted not to mention that I'd gone with Greg for a ride on his Jet Ski. No way would Nanna like that. "So can I go out with him? He's not in the Clann."

She glanced at me with a frown. "Do you think that's wise? What with the changing, and all?"

My mood deflated a bit. Jeez, why couldn't they just let me forget and pretend for a while that I was normal? "Nanna, everything's totally under control." Or at least it had been for the past month.

She sighed. "Well, you are turning sixteen in a few months. I guess we can't keep you locked up forever."

"So is that a yes?"

"That's a very reluctant yes," she replied with a small smile. "But you have to promise to keep your phone with you at all times. And don't hesitate to call me or your parents if anything happens or you start to feel weird-"

"I know, I know." I shook my head. After weeks of no new developments, I seriously doubted I would suddenly get a mad craving for Greg's blood. And as for everything else weird about me, well, that really was under control.

All I had to do was remember not to make direct eye contact with Greg. Piece of cake.

What I wasn't so confident about was what I would wear for my first date.