When I reach down to collect my bag, the dull scratch of metal against linoleum grates my ears and I spin around, almost colliding with the boy standing beside me. His mouth moves but I can't make out his words; nothing but dead silence fills my ears.

He lays a hand on my shoulder and steps closer. "Are you okay?"

My gaze travels over the tall boy in front of me; his muscular frame blocks the few rays of sunlight peeking through the sky's silvery blanket. He steps back and jams both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Wrapping my arms across my chest, I take in a deep breath. "I'm okay, thanks."

"Sorry about my brother." His gaze drops to the floor before drifting back up to my face. "He can be a dick."

I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. "Baxter is your brother?"

The boy looks up, his gaze switching between me and his feet. A rose tint covers his cheeks. "Yeah, he's my younger brother. He tends to exaggerate, so don't worry about his whole wolf comment. Most likely Blaire's right and some poodle bit him. Animals and Bax don't get along very well."

The tension knotting my muscles melts away at his words. Raiju wouldn't attack some random American human. No way Bax could've insulted the wolf's master, and Bax certainly hasn't gotten between myself and Raiju. I'm overreacting. Ugh, I must look like an idiot. Forget look like...I am an idiot.

I bite the corner of my lower lip and drum my fingertips against the strap of my bag. "So, um, if you're Bax's older brother, why are you in chemistry still? Shouldn't you be in physics or done with your science requirements?"

"Failed it the first time. I need to retake it if I want to graduate this year." He rocks back onto his heels and presses his lips together as he awkwardly smiles. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"I'm Amaya." A low and pleasant hum warms my blood when I stare into his eyes, which are every shade of brown one could imagine, a raw amber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate and mischief.

Sam turns to collects his stuff, and I continue to stare at him...study him. The way his back flares out when he reaches for his wool coat. The way his arm muscles ripple when he picks up his bag. I need a distraction to calm the butterflies swarming in my stomach. "So, why's your brother being such a jerk? I mean, why mess with me that there's some sort of wolf running around attacking people?"

"Gretchen broke up with him on his birthday last week. He's been lashing out at home, too. Not to mention, he's pissed he got passed over for being captain of the lacrosse team."

I snort. "Is he the spoiled child?"

"Yeah, he's kind of a nightmare." Sam's lips turn upward in cool indifference, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle. His hair, dark and lustrous, has a sheen like fine hardwood. But that's not a fair comparison. A shiny varnish merely catches the light around it, but the depths of the deep chestnut brown settling just above the tight-fitting sweater reflect all the radiance of his smile.

He glances at the clock above Mr. Ortiz. "We should get out of here before you're late to your next class."

"You mean before I'm late again." I softly bite the corner of my bottom lip.

His eyes are intense and they don't waver as my eyes dart around nervously. I can see in my peripheral vision that he's smiling down at me.

I nod for the hallway as his heat seems to envelop me. I decide not to make eye contact as we leave the class and head down a short flight of stairs. Sam looks back every now and then to make sure I'm still following. Every so often, the collar of his shirt shifts slightly against his collarbone, showing fleeting glimpses of a dark tattoo edging up from the fabric of his expensive-looking crimson sweater. Why humans get tattoos for fun is just as much of a mystery to me—but a sexy mystery. I desperately want to know what the design is all about, but don't ask. No need for him to know I've been checking him out.

"What class do you have next?"

"Um..." I reach into my bag, my fingers curling around my crumpled class schedule and pull out the piece of paper. School schedules in America are different from those in Japan. They alternate on even and odd days, so I'm still not used to my schedule. "History—my favorite subject."

Sam yawns and overexaggerates rolling his eyes, as if the whole world is too much for him to take in. "Mrs. Applewood?"

I scan my schedule again. "Ms. Terrence."

"Oh no." His fingers rub the length of his jaw. "You got stuck with The Lisp."

"The Lisp?" Are all students in America disrespectful to teachers, or is Radley High School special? I turn the corner and quicken my pace, trying to keep up with him. Damn his long legs.

"Yeah. She has this awful lisp. You can hardly understand what she's saying."

"That's not so bad..."

"She also spits when she says anything that starts with an S. If she has you sitting in the front row, you better start coming prepared for class."

A small knot forms in my belly, my earlier elation scurrying toward the far corners of my body. "Prepared? What do you mean, prepared?"

He claps his hand on my shoulder. "Bring a raincoat."

I groan, my stomach sinking as if I'd swallowed a bowl of rocks.

Sam smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Of course, you don't have to go. Not if you don't want to, that is."

"Won't they call my parents?" I glance up just as Sam turns away. Disappointing my human parents on the first week of school isn't an option. At least, not for something like cutting class. My education is important to them and taking it seriously connects us in a tiny way.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips. "They normally do that when kids skip. But you're the new kid, you have an excuse. Tell your parents you got overwhelmed and cried in the bathroom all day, something like that."

It would be easy enough to trick my adoptive parents into believing I really had cried in the bathroom all day. Create an illusion of puffy eyes. Maybe a little emotional manipulation for sympathy. Mom would eat that kind of thing up. Ever since the adoption, she's been eager to have a true "bonding experience."

My eyes fall to the ground and my throat tightens. I won't use powers on my human parents again. Not for something petty. They aren't kitsune, but they're all I have.

Clearing my throat, I glance over to Sam. "Earlier you mentioned you're worried about graduating. Will you be able to do that without going to class?"

In Japan, there's no such thing as getting held back a year. If someone couldn't move to the next grade, they will either change schools or quit school altogether.

He shrugs. "I don't cut often. Not anymore."

My grades were horrible my first year as a human. That damn science stuff. So I attended extra help sessions on the weekends and got a tutor. I passed my classes by the skin of my teeth. "So how behind are you?"

"I should've graduated last year in January. But failing chem put me short of the science credit I needed. At least I'm not the oldest kid in this school. That honor belongs to Murtagh. Dude's almost twenty."

Uso. A twenty-year-old in high school? I'd want to be in college, not stuck in a building with immature ninth graders who think they run the world. "What about your parents? Don't they get mad? I know mine would. And you're still cutting."

"Nah, my dad's too busy to care about nonsense like skipping history class. And my mom died when I was ten." While his tone is light enough, his shoulders tense. Fists clench tight at his sides and his breath hitches briefly at the mention of his mother. While he shakes the tell-tale signs away almost as soon as they've made themselves known, it's too late.

I'm back where I started.

Thinking about things I'm all too desperate to forget.

What I once treasured is now a memory, a shadow lingering in the depths of my mind. Like a limb torn from my body. They are gone, and I'm alone. And now, I unwittingly just brought up the same pain of loss for Sam. "I'm sorry. If I had known—"

"Amaya, relax." He rubs the back of his neck. "She got sick when I was younger. She had some type of cancer. I hardly remember her, so it's okay."

I'm not so sure I believe him, but it isn't my right to pry.

He pulls open a heavy blue metal door and we step into the hallway. But the blue reminds me of Raiju's eyes and Bax's description of the attacking canine. My stomach churns, bile creeping up my throat. The last time I let my guard down, Raiju nearly killed me. Maybe there is a reason he attacked Bax. There's only one way to find out. "So, your brother..."

Sam stops and turns to me, jaw clenching. He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a couple of seconds, running his fingers through his hair. "Amaya, if you're interested in Bax, just go find him. I guarantee he'll be in a turf bubble with the rest of the team after school gets out." He turns on his heels and heads off in the opposite direction.

I sprint after him. "Sam, it's not like that at all. I was just trying to change the topic after accidentally bringing up your mom. And what he said earlier still bothers me."

He keeps walking.

"Sam?" My voice cracks as the last letter of his name passes my lips. What the hell was that? The last straggling students passing in the hall shoot me weird looks and I can't help but empathize with them. Why the hell did I just squeak when saying his name?

I quickly shake my body in an attempt to chase away the awkwardness settling in my chest. I take in a deep breath to collect myself and try again. "Sam, I don't have any friends here, and I want to make some."

When Sam turns toward me, I angle my head the way I did in chemistry, knowing my dark eyes would glint with a mischievous twinkle and he'll melt in my hands just like Mr. Ortiz did.

His lips twist into a rueful grin, waving off my words like they were mosquitoes. "Sorry, Amaya. I don't care for being played."

I blink rapidly as if he's just pulled a Macaque from his pocket, my brain sparking, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Sam saunters down the hall, completely casual as if he hadn't just done the impossible.

How did he just resist me?

I dash after him. Maybe he hadn't looked at me properly. Maybe the glare of the fluorescent lights in the hallway interfered with my connection.

Sam reaches the classroom and I fling my arm out, preventing him from opening the door. "I'm not playing anyone." Time to turn my abilities on full. I take a deep breath and make sure our eyes lock on one another. Warm energy blankets my skin like a fine mist. The world around me vanishes. "Please, Sam? Be my friend?"

Instead of the captivated look people always give me when my ability sinks its claws into their skin, he snorts and shakes his head. "Word of advice, Amaya. Radley High's not a very big school. Everyone knows everyone, meaning there's no place for fakes. If you want to make friends here, you're gonna have to be honest about it."

Not even a blip in his breathing.

I stagger backward. Breathless. Kuso! Sam is immune to my powers. He's part of the rare two percent who can resist a kitsune's charms.

Sam opens the door. "Bell's about to ring. You better hurry."

Before I can utter a word, he shuts the door in my face, leaving me standing in the hallway, alone.

Glancing at the clock in the hall, I groan. Sam is right—second period is about to start. I retrace my steps back down the hall at a jog, my mind fuzzy.

If you want to make friends, you're going to have to be honest.

I snort. Honesty is for humans! But what would it be like to have a true friend? Someone who liked me for me without manipulating them. Since Sam could resist, maybe...?

I growl and grind my molars together. It's too dangerous to try and make friends. Raijin won't call off his bloodthirsty wolf until he gets his revenge, and I don't need to add more innocent lives to the mix.