Ryan came over as I was closing my locker to go to my fourth period. We had one more class before lunch, one more hour before goddamn freedom.

“How’s it going?”

And cue the other form of attention. I rested against my locker, looking down, but I could see from under my eyelashes. Oh yes, everyone was dying to know about Ryan and the mystery girl.

“What are you? The Greek god of dating?”

He smirked. “Hot shit. Did you already forget?”

“Right. Eagle of hotness.”

“Um, yeah.” His grin turned wicked, and he glanced around and saw all the attention too. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice. “For real. How are you? Cora told me about Margaret.”

I took a leap and figured Margaret was the front desk lady. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” He gestured to the hallway. “What’s your next class?”

“Espanol. Y tu?”

“Si, si.” He nodded. “Come on. You can be my table partner.”

I shot him a dry look, which he returned.

Once we got there, I realized it wasn’t a seniors-only class. Erin and Peach were in one corner, and I couldn’t stop my groan. Ryan snorted. His hand came to the small of my back, and he urged me forward. We walked to the back of the class and the very last table in the room. A guy after my own heart. We both slid in, and as if they dropped out of midair, Tom and Nick came to occupy the table in front of us.

“Hey, man.” Tom leaned over after the class started and worksheets were handed out. He did a fist-bumping thing with Ryan. Nick followed suit. Both looked at me, saw my face, and waved instead.

“You made it out of first period unscathed,” Nick noted.

“I did. Thanks for sitting by me.”

He shrugged. “It’s cool. That’s where we sit anyway. Seemed fitting you were there already.”

That was true.

They began talking to Ryan about classes, a party already in the works, and girls. I felt their glances, but I tuned them out.

I wished I cared. I really did, but I didn’t.

I felt her everywhere.

Sitting next to me.

Standing with me.

Walking beside me.

She was me, but I wasn’t her anymore.

I glanced at Ryan from the corner of my eye.

I’d latched on to him. He was a bandage over my wounds—covering them but not really healing them. They were still raw and open, but I was hoping to move fast enough that my insides wouldn’t spill out everywhere.

I was no longer a part of any of this, any of these people. I was on the outside, and I was the only one who really understood that.

No one else around me could claim to be a twinless twin. But that was my new identity.

I could almost hear Willow yelling at me, Those girls need to be taught a lesson. They aren’t the queens anymore. We rule now. You and me, Mac. The Willow Mac Attack. That’s you and me.

“Mac?”

I drew in a ragged breath. I could fucking hear her.

Her hand touched my arm. “Mac?”

I screamed, lurching out of my chair. Scrambling backward, my back hit the wall, and I gaped at where I’d been sitting.

Everyone was watching me.

Ryan’s hand stretched out toward where I’d been sitting. He slowly closed it into a fist and turned around in his chair toward me. He bent forward, resting his hands on his legs. “Mackenzie?”

God. It wasn’t her. Ryan had touched me. Ryan had only used her nickname for me.

“I . . .”

“What’s wrong with her?” Tom whispered.

Nick threw him a disgusted look, slamming his elbow into his chest.

“Ouch.”

As the teacher rounded the tables, heading toward me, Ryan stood and got between us. He blocked me from the rest of the class at the same time.

“What’s the problem?” the teacher asked.

I heard chairs scrape against the floor, and soon Tom and Nick were standing in front of me as well. All three of them shielded me. The gesture was so sweet, so kind, that I almost lost it again.

I reached out, grabbing Ryan’s shirt, and he sucked in his breath at the touch.

His voice came out a little strained. “She, uh—she needs a minute.”

I bent my head forward, my forehead resting against Ryan’s back.

“Well, take her outside,” the teacher added softly. “I know about—”

“Will do,” Ryan cut him off.

He swept his arm backward, sliding it around my waist, and pulled me with him. Twisting against his chest, I walked with him toward the door.

“My stuff,” I mumbled.

“Tom and Nick will grab it for us.”

Then we were out in the hallway, but Ryan didn’t pause. He let go of my waist and threaded our fingers together. Tugging me behind him, he stopped at his locker, grabbed his bag and keys, and took me to mine.

“Combo.” He pointed to it.

I didn’t want to let go of his hand, but I did, unlocking my locker.