she couldn't join one of them, even sitting alone would be better than this. But she was
confused by what Francesca had said. Why pitch Shelby as some great roommate when it
was clear the girl was a total hater? Luce milled a bite of quiche around in her mouth,
knowing she wouldn't be able to eat until she spoke up.
"Okay, I know I'm new here, and for some reason that annoys you. I guess you
had a single room before me, I don't know."
Shelby lowered the paper just below her eyes. She raised one giant eyebrow.
"But I'm not that bad. So what if I have a few questions? Forgive me for not
coming into school knowing what the hell the Nephermans are--"
" Nephilim. "
"Whatever. I don't care. I have no interest in making you my enemy--which
means some of this," Luce said, gesturing at the space between the two of them, "is
coming from you. So what's your problem, anyway?"
The side of Shelby's mouth twitched. She folded and set down the paper and
leaned back in her chair.
29
"You should care about the Nephilim. We're going to be your classmates." She
flung out her hand, waving it at the terrace. "Look out at the pretty, privileged student
body of the Shoreline School. Half of these dopes you'll never see again, except as the
object of our practical jokes."
"Our?"
"Yes, you're in the 'honors program' with the Nephilim. But don't worry; in case
you're not too bright"--Luce snorted--"the gifted track here is mostly a coverup, a place to
stow away the Nephs without anyone getting too suspicious. In fact, the only person
who's ever gotten suspicious is Beaker Brady."
"Who's Beaker Brady?" Luce asked, leaning in so she didn't have to shout over
the rough static of the waves crashing on the shore below.
"That grade-A nerdo two tables over." Shelby nodded at a chubby kid dressed in
plaid who'd just spilled yogurt all over a massive textbook. "His parents loathe the fact
that he's never been accepted into the honors classes. Every semester, they wage a
campaign. He brings in Mensa scores, results from science fairs, famous Nobelists he's
impressed, the whole shebang. And every semester, Francesca has to make up some bunk
unpassable test to keep him out." She snorted. "Like, 'Hey, Beaker, solve this Rubik's
cube in under thirty seconds.' " Shelby clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Except the
nimrod passed that one."
"But if it's a cover-up," Luce asked, feeling sort of bad for Beaker, "what's it a
cover-up for?"
"People like me. I'm a Nephilim. N-E-P-H-I-L-I-M. That means anything with
angel in its DNA. Mortals, immortals, transeternals. We try not to discriminate."
"Shouldn't the singular be, you know, nephil, like cherub from cherubim and
seraph from seraphim? "
Shelby scowled. "Seriously? Would you want to be called a nephil? It sounds like
a bag you carry your shame in. No, thanks. Nephilim it is, no matter how many of us
you're talking about."
So Shelby was a sort of angel. Strange. She didn't look or act the part. She wasn't
gorgeous like Daniel, Cam, or Francesca. Didn't possess the magnetism of someone like
Roland or Arriane. She just seemed kind of coarse and cranky.
"So it's like angel prep school," Luce said. "But for what? Do you go on to angel
college after this?"
"It depends on what the world needs. A lot of kids take a year off and do
Nephilim Corps. You get to travel, have a fling with a foreigner, et cetera. But that's in
times of, you know, relative peace. Right now, well ..."
"Right now what?"
"Whatever." Shelby looked like she was biting the word. "It just depends on who
you are. Everyone here has, you know, varying degrees of power," she went on, seeming
to read Luce's mind. "A sliding scale depending on your family tree. But in your case--"
This Luce knew. "I'm just here because of Daniel."
Shelby tossed her napkin on her empty plate and stood up. "That's a real
impressive way to pitch yourself, Luce. The girl whose big-shot boyfriend pulled some
strings."
Was that what everyone thought about her here? Was that ... the truth?
Shelby reached over and stole the last bite of quiche off Luce's plate. "If you want
30
a Lucinda Price fan club, I'm sure you can find that here. Just leave me out of it, okay?"
"What are you talking about?" Luce stood up. Maybe she and Shelby needed to
rewind again. "I don't want a fan club--"
"See, I told you," she heard a high but pretty voice say.
Suddenly, the girl with the green scarf was standing before her, grinning and
nudging another girl forward. Luce glanced past them, but Shelby was already far away-and probably not worth catching up to. Up close, the green-scarf girl looked kind of like a