He did look like Crown Prince Kiss Butt. He had the same strong but nearly too sharp lines of his face. His hair was pale blonde. His eyes were blazing green; it looked like he had to be wearing contacts to make them that vivid. He locked gazes with her and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
Something about it made her angry. She didn’t know who or what he was, but she had spent a life getting around people smarter than him. She gave him her best “I have no idea what you’re talking about” smile. As his smile faded, she felt stronger, like she’d already defeated him.
She settled in her seat beside Jillian and ran her hands over the desk. The school had tried to keep them apart in first grade. It was a simple matter to lay siege to the adults patience and slowly but surely push for what they wanted: seats together. It had taken a month to wear down two sets of teachers, the principal and vice principal and both of their parents, but in the end, they won.
Game of wits, she could win.
“Class, this is Tristan LaClaire. He’s going to have a very hard time as there’s only a few days of school left, so please be nice to him.”
There was already a desk for him as if produced by magic. Thankfully it was across the room, but still he had direct sight of them without needing to turn around.
Elle put her hand up as Tristan settled into his seat. “What will he be doing during the play? All the parts have been taken.”
Miss Hamilton considered. She probably thought about the fact they were short on pirates but also knew that the pirates were losing popularity in her class as the rehearsals continued. A new student didn’t need an immediate strike against him. “He can be one of the Lost Boys.”
“But we already have all the Lost Boys.”
“We can have an unnamed one. It won’t be a problem.”
Unnamed Lost Boy. Louise shivered slightly at how fitting that felt for the boy seated to her far right. Tristan LaClaire? She felt sure that wasn’t his name any more than Flying Monkey Five. Was that why Esme assigned the odd name? Because the people in her photos went by false names and thus telling them any name would be useless?
He was here, reason unknown. The key to what he wanted might be connected to who he really was.
* * *
It was nerve-wracking to have Tristan, or whatever his real name was, in class. He was there, in the corner of her eye, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. Every time she glanced his direction, he would meet her gaze and smirk.
It was the smirk that annoyed her the most. He knew that she had no idea why he was there and was feeling superior about it. Worse, she couldn’t even guess. If her life didn’t include baby dragons and robots possessed by unborn brothers and books of magic, she could easily come up with a dozen reasons why Tristan was in their classroom. With all normal logic removed, though, it was dangerous to try and guess.
In art class, they were doing team projects. Tristan was assigned to Elle’s team since they were short one person. Louise worked to ignore him, making it a point to sit with her back to them. Unlike class, though, they were allowed to talk in the art room.
“I don’t think they like me much.” Tristan’s tone was more smugly amused than hurt.
“They’re just really shy.” Elle surprised Louise by coming to their defense. “Until recently they didn’t talk to anyone. Which is kind of sad, they’re actually very nice once they get over being too shy to talk.”
“Oh.” He sounded almost concerned. Was he simply changing his tone because he thought that Elle was a friend of theirs? “What brought them out of their shell?”
Louise nearly forgot how to breathe as she realized that Elle could spill everything. Their contact with Nigel made it clear that they’d put too much into the videos; anyone who watched them would assume that Lemon-Lime knew everything about Elfhome.
“They joined the Girl Scouts.” Elle misled him brilliantly.
* * *
By lunchtime Louise was jumpy and short-tempered. She just wanted to lock herself in the girls’ restroom and scream. Jillian seemed fine, at least on the surface, but she’d retreated behind Peter Pan’s fearless personality.
Still Jillian flinched just as much as Louise when Tristan sat down at their lunch table.
Zahara eyed him warily and asked the question that everyone had avoided all morning. “Why did you come to school so late in the year? We’re almost done.”
“I’m on a fact-finding mission,” Tristan said.
“Facts on what?” Louise forced herself to ask.
“This and that.” He poked at his lunch. “How good the food is for one. It made more sense for me to come now and see if I like this school enough to go in the fall than to wait until September and find out I hate it.”