I PEDALED DOWN THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, RELYING ON passing headlights to lead my way. No one knew I was out here. No one. What if a car slammed into me, knocking me into a ditch? If I didn't die from my injuries, I'd freeze to death long before anyone spotted my crumpled bike.
A bitter January gust whipped my hair into my eyes. I was shivering so hard, I could barely steer my bike in a straight line. I pulled my hood up with one shaking hand while cars honked and swerved, choking me with their exhaust fumes.
I veered onto the dirt and climbed off my bike, coughing so hard that it brought tears to my eyes. This was the craziest thing I'd ever done, and right now it didn't seem worth it. As I waited for a caravan of trucks to rumble by, I dried my sweaty palms on my jeans, crinkling the paper inside my pocket to make sure that the letter I'd found in the mailbox—without a stamp or return address—was still there. What kind of meeting required sneaking out of the house at ten on a school night, anyway? But I knew if I didn't show up, I'd never find out.
My worst fear was that this was all some kind of joke. If it was, I knew who was behind it. I'd been Tiffany Miller's scapegoat since kindergarten, and it had only gotten worse in middle school. She used to stick gum in my hair, and when I wore something new, she left her mark with a pen. Kid stuff, Mom had said. Whatever, it still stung.
Five months ago, right before my senior year, the Law Offices of Posner and Huggins had offered my father a partnership. Moving won't be so bad, I'd thought, other than leaving my best friend, Sofie. It was only to a different part of the state. But the laugh was on me when Tiffany's father, a corporal in the Army, transferred his family to the military base a few miles away. How nice, Mom had said, a familiar face at your new school. But then, she'd always been out of touch with reality. Mine, at least.
The thing was, the invitation wasn't really Tiffany's style. She wasn't the type to plan ahead. What if someone else wrote the letter, someone who really did want me to join a special club? Yeah, right, I told myself, trying to keep my expectations in check. Since starting school, no one had asked me anything deeper than "What's your name?" or "Where'd you come from?" But at five foot ten, with a mass of curls that went through a bottle of Frizz-Ease every month, I didn't exactly blend in with the cement-block walls. What if someone had noticed me?
I finally reached Stafford Pond and leaned my bike against a cracked bench dotted with bird crap. My stomach contracted as I turned around in a circle, careful not to leave my back exposed for more than a second. Was someone hiding out there, watching me?
Nothing.
I scanned the opaque curtain of trees, searching for the whites of an eye, the flash of a camera, the sound of hushed laughter. I'd prepared myself for many scenarios, but not nothing. My pulse throbbed in my ears, muffling the rattle of the wind through the trees. I checked the time on my cell phone. Eight minutes after ten. What if they'd thought I wasn't going to show up and had already left?
I exhaled slowly to calm my heart, which was still thrashing inside me from the stress of sneaking out of my house. The sliding glass door had offered the perfect escape route. Of course, I'd only made it halfway up the hilly side yard before I slipped on a patch of ice and went flying into a rusted wheelbarrow that pitched to the side with a dramatic thwack. I'd crawled behind the air-conditioner unit and peered around it into the living room.
Mom had been stretched out on the couch, a leg on Dad's lap. She'd eyed the window before turning back to her favorite weight-loss show. They probably couldn't imagine that their daughter would be anywhere except in bed. The trust I'd "earned" over the years was proof of my boring life.
Only, tonight wasn't so boring. I was standing in the middle of a desolate park like a bull's-eye. I glanced at the massive mulberry tree that stood guard over the pond. If I climbed it, I could see them before they saw me. I reached for the lowest branch and hauled myself up. I hadn't been in a tree since I was a kid, and this was the second one in a night—the first having been the escape route outside my raised bedroom porch. Very mature, Charlotte, playing in trees. I'm sure whoever's watching is real impressed. I tried not to think about the possibility that I'd just trapped myself up here.
The full moon beamed a spotlight on the icy surface of the pond. Everything was still. Too still. I worked to free the letter from my pocket, careful not to lose my grip and plummet to the ground.
Ironing the invitation with a fist, I read it for what must've been the hundredth time:
Dear Charlotte,
You have been chosen to join the League of Strays. A secret meeting will be held at Stafford Pond, fourth picnic table on the right at 10:00, Wednesday night. Come alone. Make sure nobody follows you, or you won't hear from us again.
—K.
I squinted at the signature. Was it a K or a cursive T? Even Tiffany wouldn't be stupid enough to sign her own initial. Besides, it definitely looked like a K.
I twisted around at a noise and lost my footing. I managed to hook an arm on a branch, saving myself from a broken bone or two. What the hell was I doing out in the woods at night?
And that's when I saw Nora Walker, genius extraordinaire, emerge from the dark. She walked straight to the picnic table and sat down, head swiveling like a security camera in a bank. My heart plunged to the ground like a kite with a hole in it.
Nora didn't qualify as the secret-admirer type. In fact, I couldn't think of a single reason she would ask me to meet her here. But since I'd come all this way, I owed it to myself to find out.
I slid down the tree, the bark cutting into my arm. Nora jumped three inches. "Dammit, who's there?"
"Charlotte Brody." I took a hesitant step forward.
Her arms and legs crossed in perfect synchronization. "Why'd you send me this note?"
I stared at her, bewildered. "I didn't," I said, waving my letter at her. "I got one, too." I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you know a girl named Tiffany Miller?"
"Who?"
"Never mind."
Nora gestured for me to take the seat beside her. I walked around the table and sat down on the opposite side.
"If no one comes in two minutes, I'm leaving." She nudged her silver-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I have a paper due in AP biology on the caliber of fetal versus adult stem cells in disease management." Whenever Nora opened her mouth, it sounded like she was reciting from the vocabulary section of an SAT prep book.
My favorite theory, the one where I'd been selected to join an elite organization, disintegrated like a wet paper towel now that she was here. We were too different to belong to the same club. But Nora wanted to see what this was all about, just like me.
I spun around at the sound of crunching leaves. Zoe Carpenter, dressed in her usual oversized army jacket, tight black jeans, and trashed hiking boots, glared at us. "Take it you guys are joining the big bad League, too?" She rotated the flashlight in her hand, aiming the light under her chin. "Spooky place for a rendezvous, huh?"
Zoe scared me, the way she stomped through the halls like a military officer trying to put the fear of God in her underlings. She practically lived inside that shapeless camouflage jacket. But now that she was close, I was surprised to see that she was pretty. Her eyes looked like green beach glass against a coffee-with-cream complexion. Too bad about her personality, though.
Nora made a show of rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. I just want to see who sent the note."
Before I could digest the effect of Zoe's arrival on my ever-changing theories, a bush rustled nearby. My heart slammed against my chest. Our heads whipped around in unison, waiting for whatever lurked inside to announce itself.
It turned out to be a tall guy in a leather jacket and faded blue jeans a shade darker than his pale eyes, which were fringed with the kind of lashes most girls would kill for. The moonlight bounced off his glossy black hair.
It seemed that Nora and Zoe weren't immune to his good looks, either. Nora's eyes widened behind her owl glasses, and Zoe stopped chomping on the wad of gum in her mouth. The pink blob, stuck on the tip of her tongue, dropped to the ground.
"Hello, everyone. I'm Kade Harlin, and I'd like to officially welcome you to the League of Strays." His voice was as deep and resonant as the bassoon in our school orchestra.
Kade Harlin. I repeated the name under my breath, letting the rhythm of it roll off my tongue.
"Nice hairdo," Zoe quipped. I couldn't tell if she was complimenting or insulting the shiny peaks that jutted from his head in random directions. I decided it wasn't a case of accidental bed head. Advanced gel construction all the way. I wished I could touch them. Did they feel like feathers or cactus spines?
Kade smiled, flashing even, white teeth. I found myself smiling back, late at night, at a guy I'd never seen before in my life.
He gestured behind him. "This is my friend Richie." I focused on the small shadow and cringed. Mom and Dad would freak out if they knew their precious daughter was standing a few feet away from the school drug dealer.
"And that makes all five of us," Kade finished.
The more I studied him, the more I determined the geometric spikes were a work of art. I peeled my eyes off his carefully crafted hair to scan the woods one last time. Thankfully, Tiffany Miller wasn't behind a tree, giggling into the arm of her Abercrombie & Fitch scoop-neck cardigan.
"You want to tell us what's going on?" Nora barked.
"I intend to," Kade said, sitting on top of the picnic table. I moved over to make room for his long legs. "You've each been selected to join the League of Strays. We've been profiling you for months."
Profiling? Wasn't that how the FBI identified potential terrorists in airports? A chill rippled up the back of my neck.
"It's not a club," he said. "It's a selective group of friends."
I suppressed a smile. A selective group comprised of a bunch of social misfits? I realized I was including myself in that definition. But I wasn't a misfit. Not really. Maybe I hadn't won any popularity contests at my old school, but I'd had friends at least.
On the other hand, I didn't have any right now. Sure, I had people to say hi to at orchestra practice. But no one to meet between classes or hang out with after school.
Zoe dropped a hand on her hip. "You're full of it, Kade."
"Zoe Carpenter. Let's see, mom divorced Zoe's stepfather last year. Well, technically, he was number three." His voice was warm and easy, without a hint of condescension. "She lives in a home of revolving men, but the only one her mom really loves is Jack … Daniel's."
Zoe catapulted from the bench. "You don't know shit about my mother. Or me." She stalked away, crushing the leaves and twigs under her boots.
"Nora Walker," Kade continued, unfazed. Zoe froze, then craned her head to hear him. "Mom and dad work seventy-hour weeks at their high-tech jobs. Needless to say, they aren't around much. When she was twelve, Nora's fifteen-year-old sister committed suicide by downing all of her mother's migraine medicine. Now an only child, Nora makes it her personal mission to erase her parents' pain."
I didn't have siblings myself, but I could imagine what it would feel like to have a sister kill herself. No wonder Nora was so obsessed with her grades. She must be doing everything in her power to make her family happy.
"Perfection takes a lot of energy," Kade added.
I half expected Nora to take a stab at Kade's face before exiting stage right, but she just propped a fist under her chin. "Pretty thorough, Harlin."
"There's one thing I can promise," Kade said. "I'll be honest with all of you, which is more than I can say for most people."
I glanced at Zoe. Her mouth tightened as she looked at the trees hunching forward in the breeze. I expected her to challenge his definition of the truth, especially as it applied to her own life, but she didn't.
Kade turned to me with a smile that could melt an Alaskan glacier. "Charlotte Brody."
I studied my black Keds with sudden interest. At least he couldn't have much on me. Not with my dull life.
He unfurled his arms like he was presenting me at a debutante ball or something. "The new kid in town."
Nora laughed. I started to smile but hung my head to hide it. I imagined Kade following me from class to class, taking notes. The idea of someone spying on me was definitely creepy. Even so, I wanted to hear more. What else did Kade Harlin think about me?
"Charlotte's a good judge of character, which explains why she can't find real friends at Kennedy High," he said. "She lives in a bubble, her every move dictated by Mommy and Daddy. She's applied to the Barrymore School of Music to study the viola, but it's really their dream, not hers."
Coming to Kennedy High at the start of senior year had been a lot harder than I'd expected. When I was younger, everyone wanted to get to know the new kid. But in high school, it seemed like people were happy with, or at least tolerant of, whatever friendships they already had. Not to mention that making friends took effort, and really, who had time for that when there were college applications, never-ending homework, and boyfriend dramas to deal with.
I stared at him, speechless. How did he know about Barrymore? I hadn't told a soul, other than my music teachers and the college-placement counselor. And he thought it was my parents' dream, not mine? I'd played the viola since the third grade and was now first chair in the school orchestra. You didn't get that far without a serious dedication to music. In fact, Mr. Watson, my private teacher, said my audition CD for the most prestigious music college in the Midwest was "undeniable," and he couldn't understand why I'd bothered applying to State as a backup.
I stayed quiet, though, not wanting to look defensive. Kade might think he knew all about me, but on this count, he was dead wrong.
"She hasn't found anything better to do," he said. "But that's about to change."
My insides flopped like a fish washed up on the beach. What was going to change? And how?
In three giant steps, he reached Zoe, who still had her back to him. He laid a hand on her shoulder. She recoiled from his touch. "Being alone sucks, but you don't have to live like this anymore," he said softly.
Was Zoe lonely? It didn't seem like it when you saw her barreling down the hallway, hollering at people to get out of her way. Then again, it was easier to reject people before they had a chance to reject you.
Zoe shot him a nasty look. "Why us, Kade? I'm sure there are a lot of people who'd like to be your friend. Why, out of all the wonderful choices out there, did you pick us?"
When he didn't give an answer, she asked, "So what about you and your pal? Don't we get to hear all about your personal issues?"
Kade looked thoughtful, as if she'd asked him something major. "Richie and I went to another school before we switched to Kennedy High in the tenth grade. We've gone through a lot, but our friendship's stronger because of it."
They changed schools together? I wanted to know more, but instead of telling us, Kade flipped his palms up as if asking the good Lord to bless us. "The League is a gathering of people who need each other. It's instant friendship. We won't have to watch our backs anymore. We're here to support and protect each other." Kade's gaze stopped on me, and I followed the tip of his tongue as it traced the curve of his upper lip.
Beside him, Zoe made a subtle gagging motion, mocking his words. Nora tried to hide a smile but lost. The exchange lasted five seconds tops, but Kade caught it. He looked disappointed, like they just didn't get it. I felt an overwhelming urge to tell them to shut up and listen to what he had to say.
"Protect each other from what? I have friends," Nora murmured.
"Would they put out their necks to save you?" he asked.
Kade Harlin was acting like we were lifelong friends instead of a bunch of strangers shivering together in the woods on a January night. I wondered what he knew that I didn't.
"Friends are overrated," Zoe said, returning to the picnic table. She pulled a boot up onto the bench and dropped her chin onto her knee. Nora scowled at Zoe's shoes and shifted to the edge until she almost fell off.
"Or maybe it's hard to get close to them when your home life's a wreck," he said. "Listen, it doesn't matter where we come from. If we can open ourselves to the possibilities of the League, nothing can stop us." He paused, meeting each of our eyes in turn. "And besides, there's strength in numbers."
He glanced again in my direction, then turned and walked away. Richie scrambled to keep up with him. I almost expected a puff of wind to blow in, dispersing them like dandelion seeds.
Zoe waited until Kade had faded into the backdrop of the trees. "Disturbing," she said.
"Bizarre," Nora added.
"Totally," I said.
The three of us looked around, avoiding each other's eyes. I wished they'd say something to summarize what had just happened. Finally, I mumbled good-bye, hopped on my bike, and left them sitting on the bench.
