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Chapter One

"Remind me why I'm doing this?" Christopher yawned before running a hand through his tousled bedhead. Glancing at the dash, he added, "It's barely seven."

"Because you're my big brother and you love me," replied Margaret without missing a beat. "It's your job to drive me places."

He snorted but didn't otherwise reply, and Margaret turned her attention back to the little mirror in her hand. It was her first day back, and she needed to be sure that she looked her best. Her brother may think it was appropriate to leave their home in a pair of sweats and an ancient hoody, but Yale had changed him for the worst. That, or it could well have been sharing an apartment for three years with that gargoyle, Ali Ababwa.

She turned her head, making sure that her beret was sitting in just the right place. It was, and she paused to inspect her lashes. The glue was not the most comfortable she'd tried, but she supposed that she'd get used to it. It didn't look crusty, at least.

The traffic was light, and it didn't take long for them to reach the outer walls of Avalon High. Christopher slowed down as they passed the bus stop, and Margaret frowned at the small crowd making their way towards the school's front gates. There was very little in the way of familiar faces, but then again, most of the people she cared to know did not slum it with public transit.

"Poor bastards," she murmured. "I'd die before I had to ride one of those sardine cans on wheels."

Out the corner of her eye, she saw her brother tighten his jaw and furrow his brow. Margaret knew that expression all too well. He was biting his tongue, and on an ordinary morning, she'd have engaged him in an argument. It was his lucky day, though, given that she had no intention in getting flustered on her first day back.

The ornate metal gates were open, but the way was blocked by a boom. Margaret blinked in surprise, her frown deepening as Christopher pulled to a stop. The boom was new, and in her opinion, it looked like something you'd see at a mall's parking lot rather than at Avalon Academy. Pushing down her annoyance, she fished around her bag for her student card, noting that the security guard had arrived at her brother's window. He's not new, at least. Now, where's that stupid card. She dug deeper, shoving her arm into her bag all the way up to her elbow.

"Could've gotten it out earlier instead of checking your make-up for the entire drive," commented Christopher. The annoyed look slipped away from her brother's place as he turned to the guard, and in its place was his most charming smile. "Morning, Gareth. Remember me?"

"Chris Charming." Gareth chuckled. "Thought we'd seen the back of you."

"Just dropping off the sister," he replied, gesturing in Margaret's direction. In a conspiratorial voice, he added. "Do me a solid and forget the card. We'll be here forever if we wait for her majesty to dig it out."

Margaret gasped. It was one thing for him to be so rude to her when they were alone, but to do so in front of the staff? It was that Ali Ababwa. It had to be. Her brother had never been so ill-spoken before becoming roommates with that rat. Fixing Christopher with her iciest glare, she turned back to her bag to resume her digging.

"Exceptions can be made for old friends," said Gareth. Raising his voice, he called, "Perce, let 'em through."

The boom swung into the air, and the car began moving. Though her irritation at her brother hadn't faded, Margaret couldn't help but breathe a sigh at the familiar sight of the grounds. They were green and sprawling, and the mere sight of the old stone benches and hedges were enough to bring back a dozen fond memories. There was a tree near the edge of the green, and her smile grew. She'd spent a great many of her breaks beneath that very tree with Aurelia and Devani, trading gossip and giggling at their phones.

Still, the nostalgia was not enough for her to forget her ire, and she had heard a great many suspicious things from her brother in the last five minutes.

"How'd you know that man's name?" asked Margaret, glancing in her brother's direction as they approached the car park. "What did he mean by old friends? Why was he glad to see the back of you? Explain!"

Chris blinked, looking surprised at her outburst. "I was here five years, Margaret. And, well, Gareth made a small fortune in looking the other way whenever Ali and I wanted to skip school."

Skip school? Margaret stared in disbelief. That did not sound like him at all. Then, she snorted, realizing that she needed to look no further than the third party in her brother's little confession. Ali. Of course. Sniffing, she narrowed her eyes, but chose not to say anything. This was ammunition for later.

They pulled into the car park, and a shrill squeal pierced the air. Margaret laughed, her ire melting away in seconds, and beside her, Christopher's eyes went wide with alarm.

"Oh bother," he muttered. Nudging her in the side with more force than was strictly necessary, he added, "Get out before that lunatic sees me."

"Aurelia is not a—"

"Get out or you're walking here tomorrow."

Margaret glared at him before obeying. She barely had time to shut the door behind her before Christopher floored it, his tyres screeching as he shot out of the parking lot like the very hounds of hell were on his tail. She spluttered. Of all the idiocy. Well… at least now she knew how to get rid of him when he was being annoying.

Gathering herself, she took a moment to fix her beret before glancing around the car park in search of the squealer, and it didn't take her long to find Aurelia standing beside the stairs. Waving furiously, Margaret hurried over to her best friend, her heels clicking across the blacktop. Aurelia grinned, yanking her into a hug so tight that it nearly cracked her ribs.

"Margaret!" Aurelia declared, pulling away. "Thank God you're here. I was afraid I'd have nobody to talk to." She wrinkled her nose. "Leon ditched me the second we got here."

"He's probably—"

"It's that tacohead slut of his," interrupted Aurelia, shaking her head. "He spent our entire vacation texting her. It's all Elena this, Elena that. I swear to—"

"Aurelia." Margaret chuckled. "You can't say that out loud."

"Why not?" Aurelia blinked. "I thought the one we couldn't say was spi—"

"Aurelia!" Margaret clapped a hand across her friend's mouth, fighting the urge to laugh. "No! You're going to get suspended if someone hears you, and then I'll be stuck here alone."

Aurelia laughed, her eyes glimmering with mirth. Twisting her head free from Margaret's grasp, she twirled around before hooking Margaret's elbow with hers. As they made their way into the school, Margaret noticed that she'd grown taller than her friend, if only by a few inches. It was surprising, but it didn't change that in the right light, they'd pass for sisters. Oh, Aurelia was skinnier than her, with paler hair and grey eyes, but it didn't ruin the effect. Good, she thought. She'd always wanted a sister, but all she'd ever gotten was Christopher, and while she loved him, he did leave much to be desired.

"Have you seen Devani?" asked Margaret, referring to the final member of their trio.

"Oh, you know her," replied Aurelia in an airy tone, running a hand through her ash-blonde hair. "She's fashionably late at the best of times."

"Well, I hope she gets here soon." Margaret glanced around, noting that the corridor was starting to fill. To her dismay, there were more unfamiliar faces than she'd bargained for. "She won't be able to find us if this place gets any more crowded."

"Then we'll see her at lunch. Serve her right for being late, am I right?" Aurelia smirked before taking a look around, and her lips twisted into a grimace. "Honestly, I'd been hoping Daddy was having me on, but would you look at this lot. Are there any fish in this sea worth tossing out a line for?"

"It's not all bad," replied Margaret. "Isn't Jaq Charmant starting his freshman year?"

"Jaq?" Aurelia blinked, looking at her as if she's gone mad. "Do I look like a cradle robber?"

"Absolutely." Margaret laughed, ignoring the sharp glare her friend shot her way. As if age bothers you, she wanted to add, there's a reason my brother avoids you like the plague.

The corridor began to empty as groups split away in search of quieter pastures. She glanced at her watch. They still had a good while until the first siren went off, but she didn't want to traipse all the way to the benches under the tree just yet. It was still early, and the grass was probably still wet with dew. To her relief, Aurelia seemed to have the same idea.

"Did you hear?" asked Aurelia, tugging her along towards the lockers. "Nicholas spent three weeks of the summer doing community service."

"Really?" Margaret blinked. She knew Nicholas, albeit in passing, and that didn't seem like him at all. "What for?"

"You don't know?" Aurelia's face lit up with the look she only got when she knew something that the people around her did not, and she practically preened with excitement as she entered the combination into her locker. "When the police raided Malevolence and found all that cocaine stashed in the storage room. Mummy says that the Frosts had to pull every string they could to get him off the hook. Can you imagine? Bad enough to get caught, but then not being able to make it go away." Aurelia shuddered. "I'd shoot myself if I had to pick up thrash on the sidewalk for three weeks."

"He was there?" Margaret hoped her shock didn't show on her face. "I know he's friendly with that Maleficent woman's son, but I never would have thought that he'd actually go to one of their establishments."

"Friendly?" A rich and familiar laugh tinkled at her ears. Devani swanned into view beside them and immediately slung an arm around Margaret's shoulders. "Oh, they're more than friendly."

"No?" Aurelia's jaw dropped, her eyes alight with glee. "Devani, darling, spill."

"Oh, I have nothing to spill." Devani giggled, putting up the faux air of innocence that only she could pull off. "I just so happened to hear Cornelius and Nicholas whispering to each other in the parking lot."

Margaret shifted, not quite liking where this conversation was going. Gossip was one thing, but she knew from experience that Aurelia and Devani had a tendency to take things too far once they got going. More to the fact, Nicholas was friendly with her brother, and she liked him well enough. Plastering a smile to her face, she nodded along, hoping for a change of subject. Something safer, perhaps, or more to point, gossip about someone that she didn't know.

A locker slammed, and Margaret winced, already seeing the trouble on its way. They should not have been having this conversation in the hallway where anyone could overhear, and they definitely shouldn't have been doing so within earshot of Alyssa Rose. Subtly squeezing Devani's side as a signal and shooting a quick glance at Aurelia, Margaret drew herself to her full height. At her side, Devani fell silent and took the same stance, but despite the sudden shift, Aurelia didn't seem to notice.

"If only I'd known sooner." Aurelia let out a dramatic and long-suffering sigh. "I wasted months flirting with that fa—"

"Finish that sentence, and they'll be picking pieces of your gums out of my heels for the next week and a half." Alyssa's voice was dangerously calm given her choice of words.

Aurelia whirled before scoffing. Folding her arms, she raised an eyebrow in Alyssa's direction, giving the girl a once over before rolling her eyes. "There's one of you and three of us. Are you really going to pick this fight, bitch?"

"I'm outnumbered, how terrifying," Alyssa seemed thoroughly unconcerned. "Watch your tongue when it comes to my friends, Aurelia, and I'll let you keep that smile."

Margaret shifted as the brunette turned on her heel and stomped off, breathing a sigh of relief at the bullet they'd no doubt just dodged. The first day of the new school year hadn't even properly begun, and it was quickly becoming more exciting than she'd expected it to be. Honestly, she didn't mind Aurelia, and neither did Devani, but her best friend really needed to be more aware of their surroundings when she decided to be frank about things.

There were a great many people in the world with chips on their shoulders, and they'd take every opportunity to try and get one over on their betters. Bless her heart, but Aurelia was not subtle, and one of these days, it was going to land the lot of them in hot water. Even now, after facing off with the barbaric beast that was Alyssa Rose, Aurelia had turned right around and resumed her chatter, not seeming shaken in the slightest.

Wondering if they should say something, Margaret shot a glance at Devani, who simply shrugged in response before joining in on the conversation. Well, that's that, thought Margaret.

Mercifully, any lingering awkwardness disappeared at the shriek of the morning siren, signalling that it was time for their first class of the day. Margaret glanced at her schedule and groaned. French, first thing in the morning? That was just cruel.

Aurelia wailed, glancing at her own schedule as though it had personally killed her puppy.

"This goes against the Geneva Convention," she proclaimed. "French? As the first class of the first day? Fuck."

"Well." Margaret brightened. "At least I won't be bored with you there. What about you, Devani?"

"Spanish," she replied. "With Miss Coco. I'm already yawning."

"Oh, chin up, Devani." Aurelia grinned. "I heard Caspian's taking that class. If you run, you might just get the seat next to him."

Devani's eyes went wide. Spluttering, she grasped her bag and took off, not even pausing to say goodbye. Margaret laughed, leaning against the lockers for support.

"She's still carrying that torch, huh?" she said, watching her friend sprint down the corridor.

"I wonder if I should tell her that Caspian's taken." Aurelia giggled, her eyes flashing. "But, you know, it'll be so much more fun to see her find out for herself."

Oh, that's just mean. Margaret laughed harder, hugging herself as tears of mirth brimmed in the corners of her eyes.

It had been a mistake to come here.

Nibs leaned back in his chair until he was balancing on the back legs, chewing on the end of his pencil. He'd chosen the window seat that was furthest from the teacher's desk, and he was duly grateful that the seat in front of him had been occupied by the tallest boy in his class. Hopefully, this would be enough to hide him from view.

He'd never been fond of school in the first place, but it had been bearable when he'd had Slightly and Cubby with him. He sighed, hoping that they were at least missing him as much as he was missing them. Oh, who was he kidding? They were likely laughing their asses off at the thought of him trying to fit in amongst this bunch.

He could see the student car park from the window, and that was more than enough to show him just how out of his depth he was. It was like something right out of a catalogue, and he'd bet his last nickel that a single one of those rides cost more than he'd ever see in a lifetime. Nibs had a driver's license—who didn't, at his age—but outside of the handful of times that Peter had let him borrow his beater, he'd never had the chance to use it.

He leaned back further in his chair, holding onto the desk with his free hand to keep from toppling over. With every passing moment, he was feeling more and more out of place. This place didn't even feel like a school. There wasn't even any graffiti on the desks.

"Hello." The tall boy twisted around in his chair and stuck out a hand. He had a mild accent, one that Nibs couldn't quite place. Wearing a beaming smile, he continued. "Haven't seen you around before. Transfer?"

Nibs started in surprise, and without thinking, he offered the guy his hand. Almost immediately, he realized his mistake, and his eyes went wide as his chair tipped back an inch too far. For a second, he was falling, and then the tall boy yanked on his hand, jolting him forward. With a sharp bang, the front legs of his chair hit the ground, and Nibs gasped, his heart racing. An embarrassed laugh escaped his lips, the tall boy chuckled and, just like that, the tension vanished.

"Hey," replied Nibs, giving the tall boy's hand a good shake before letting it go. "Yeah, I'm new. You can call me Nibs."

"I'm Olivier, but call my Olly," said the tall boy. "Nice to meet you, Nibs. That short for something?"

"Sir Nibbington Nibsworth de Nibbleton," Nibs deadpanned, "The third."

As soon as the words left his lips, he could have kicked himself for potentially sticking his foot in his mouth. This was not the Second Star High, where his humor was known and appreciated. He was pretty sure that in this neck of the woods, it could very well come across as mocking. Honestly, Olivier was being nice enough, so why'd he hav—

Olivier chuckled, and Nibs breathed a sigh of relief. Stop overthinking, Wendy's voice whispered into his head.

"You're joking." Olivier chortled. "But I dare you do ask some of these people their full names. You'll be surprised. Friend of mine has a cousin called Brynhildr Sigrdrifa Bjorgman."

"You're having me on." Nibs bit his lip to keep from guffawing. "Were her parents drunk?"

"You'll have to ask him that," said Olivier. "I'll introduce you at lunch."

Nibs nodded. Olivier didn't seem all that bad, and if his friends were on the same level, Nibs could see himself getting along with them. Maybe they wouldn't be as good as Cubby or Slightly or Jane, or heck, even little Tootles, but maybe, just maybe, attending Avalon wouldn't be the disaster he'd expected it to be. Hopefully.

A shadow fell over his desk, and he frowned before looking up. A pair of blondes stood beside his desk, and from their expressions, it looked like they wanted to say something to him. Seriously? Do I look that interesting? The one on the left was taller, blue-eyed, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, was wearing one of those poncy hats over her wavy hair. The girl beside her, grey-eyed and straight-haired, looked as though she'd just smelled something unpleasant.

"Aurelia. Margaret." Olivier's greeting was terse, and it was all the cue that Nibs needed. "Great to see you two again."

"Olivier." The shorter girl—Aurelia, he supposed—turned up her nose. Brightly, she continued, "You're looking less pudgy these days. Good for you."

Nibs blinked, not knowing what to make of that introduction. Olivier looked thrown for a loop, his face growing red as a tomato. Talk about bitchy. If someone even dared say something like that to Cubby… Nibs could already hear the punch that his friend would answer with.

"Don't look so flustered, Olivier, she was complimenting you," said the other girl—Margaret—before she turned to Nibs. "Good morning. Would you mind moving? Everywhere else is full and we'd like to sit together."

Nibs looked around, scanning the room for. The only empty desk was the one right in front of the teacher's table, and he certainly wasn't about to go there. Here, in the back, he could snooze behind Olivier and not be caught, but there? He'd get tossed into detention within the first five minutes of the lesson. Slightly had said that this was one of those places that punished you for yawning in class. He'd laughed the notion off at the time, but now that he was here, it was looking more and more like a real possibility.

"Sorry, no," he said, hoping that would be the end of it. "I quite like it here."

"No?" Aurelia echoed. "I'm sorry, but it wasn't a request. Move."

Fuck that.

"If you wanted to sit together, you should have gotten here earlier," he said, forcing a grin. "I'm not moving."

For a second, he wondered if Aurelia was going to do something stupid like try and yank him out of his chair. She certainly looked capable of trying. She wouldn't succeed, mind you, but she struck him as the sort that would try, and then blame him for starting it later. Instead, she glared, pursing her lips and screwing up her nose.

"Is there something on my face?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "Can't help but notice you're still staring."

Olivier snorted, and Nibs was grateful for the moral support. To his surprise, however, Margaret's pursed lips twitched as a ghost of a smile crossed her face. Interesting, he thought. He raised an eyebrow at her, and immediately, her expression stiffened, shifting back to one of irritation.

"This isn't over," hissed Aurelia. Hefting her bag across her shoulder, she stormed off to the front of the room. If only she'd trip and fall flat on her face, thought Nibs, watching her go with relief. Margaret sniffed, looking at him as though he'd strangled her kitten with his bare hands, before mincing towards the empty desk beside him. She can trip as well. Bloody twats.

Honestly, who did that boy think he was?

Margaret paused in her doodling to shoot him a dull glare, knowing full well that he was the only one to blame for her boredom. Had he just moved when asked, Aurelia would be sitting there instead. The two of them still had a lot to catch up on, and Margaret was especially looking forward to hearing more about her best friend's summer in Spain.

Instead, she was stuck listening to Missus Bonfamille drone on and on and on. A tall, spindly woman who wore her greying hair in a tight bun and sounded as though she was constantly chewing on broken glass, Bonfamille was a bore at the best of times, but her introductory lessons were absolute torture. Margaret didn't even know what the point of it was. Grades, required reading, homework, study tips, orals for the year… Could this information not have been forwarded to them as a PDF?

Poor Aurelia… Margaret couldn't imagine having to sit in the front row, especially in Bonfamille's class. Her best friend couldn't even distract herself with doodles or hiding her phone under her desk, not with Bonfamille standing right there, and it was all that boy's fault.

Margaret shot him another glare. He was a new face, probably a transfer, but he wasn't much to look at. From his ratty sneakers to his messy hair, he looked distinctly unkempt… Honestly, there was no reason for anyone to wear a sweatshirt that was at least two sizes too big. Well, it could always be worse, she supposed. At least it wasn't stained. He was probably one of those weird I don't care how I look types, she decided. It was rather sad. If he bothered, he'd likely look passable.

A wave of muttering washed across the room, and Margaret snapped to attention, realizing she'd missed something important. People were muttering to their friends, scribbling away, and she was at a complete loss as to what was going on. Tucking her head down to obscure herself from Bonfamille's view, she listened for any kind of hint as to what was going on. It was easy enough to hide behind the tangled mane that Kamaria Proudrock called hair.

"You in the blue shirt," said Bonfamille, pointing to the desk nearest the door. "You'll go first. Stand up, introduce yourself, and say something in French."

Oh… Margaret blinked, not understanding the panicked mutterings. Was that all? Most of them had been taking the subject for two or three years at this point, and they should be able to rattle off a single sentence. This was perfectly fine. She didn't like to brag, but she spoke the language almost as well as Olivier, and he was French.

She turned her attention back to the class just in time to see Wren drag himself to his feet, looking almost as bored as she felt.

"I'm Wren Hood," he said. "You've taught me for two years, Bon Bon, c'mon, don't you know my name yet?"

A few chuckles rang out across the room, and Margaret frowned. The nerve of some people. Bonfamille was a tedious crone, but that didn't mean she should be disrespected, especially by the local charity cases. Honestly. The lack of gratitude rankled, and she wasn't even the one giving them the opportunity. If she were Wren Hood, a lout who couldn't afford to attend Avalon if he sold both his kidneys, she'd be bowing and scraping at the feet of the staff who had lifted him out of the ghetto.

"Mister Hood, this is a classroom, not a comedy club. Reserve your cheek for the lunch break," said Bonfamille. "Now get on with it. The entire class needs to have a turn."

"Fine, fine." Wren winked. "Je suis ravi de vous recontrer."

"Two years in this classroom and that's the best you can do." Bonfamille tutted as he sank back into his seat. "Next, the boy behind him."

A wad of paper hit Margaret in the side of the head, and she jerked in surprise, nearly falling out of her chair. Turning her head, she glared at the stupid boy from earlier, noting that he was already in the process of scrunching up another scrap of paper. Her middle finger itched, begging to be flashed in his direction, and she took a deep breath to gather herself.

When he noticed her looking, he mouthed something at her that she didn't understand. She frowned, and he pointed to the wad of paper on her desk. Yes, I know you threw it, you barbarian. He shook his head at her scowl before pointing again, and when she shrugged, he looked ready to facepalm. The boy pointed at her paper once more, then at the one he was scrunching up. He unfolded it and pretended to read it, and finally, understanding dawned.

Margaret considered ignoring his note, but her curiosity got the better of her. She smoothed it out, her frown deepening at the messy scrawl. Immediately, she added poor handwriting to her list of things that were wrong with that boy, right next to awful communication skills and being a terrible mime.

'Can't get Olly's attention. Help. Gimme a sentence to say.'

Oh, of all the nerve! First, he refused to move when asked nicely, then he hit her with a piece of paper, and now he wanted her help? Who did he think he was?

"No," she mouthed back at him.

"Please?" he mouthed back, gesturing in her direction.

Before she could respond, he'd tossed another wad of paper onto her desk. Unfolding it, she scanned the words and suppressed the urge to scoff.

'Never taken French before. C'mon, help a guy out.'

Margaret pursed her lips as she set down the note. Out the corner of her eye, she could see him already scribbling out another. He was probably going to pelt her with them until she gave in. Oh, she knew this game. Very well. She would help him. She wrote out a single phrase before neatly folding the paper until it was no bigger than her fingernail. Looking up to make sure that Bonfamille wasn't looking, she chucked it as hard as he could.

After reading the note, he flashed her a quick smile and a thumbs up, and honestly, had it been anyone else, she might feel a little bad. Then again, he had been awfully rude to Aurelia and her, and he deserved it for pestering her. What kind of idiot was this boy? Taking French at their level when he'd apparently never taken a class before…

Kamaria, who was sitting in front of her, sat back down, and Margaret shook herself to clear her head. Time had flown, and it was already her turn. Putting on her brightest smile, she got to her feet.

"My name is Margaret K Charming," she said, "Ne pas mettre tous ses œufs dans le même panier." Pleased with herself, she smoothed out her skirt before returning to her seat.

The rude boy stood up, looking quite awkward, and Margaret fought the urge to giggle. This was going to be fun. He ran a hand through his hair, shifting from foot to foot, and with every second that passed, Margaret's smirk grew.

"Erm, I'm Nibs… Noah, I mean. Noah Miller." He glanced down to the scrap of paper on his desk. "Tu es une garce."

Several things happened at once. Bonfamille spluttered, going red. Laughter broke out across the room. Olivier spun around in his chair, grabbing Noah by the sleeve and yanking him down to whisper something in his ear. Noah's eyes went wide, his cheeks burning red, and with that, Margaret couldn't hold in her giggles any longer. She cackled, tears of mirth stinging in the corners of her eyes, ignoring the look he shot her way.

Honestly, what had he expected?

"Mister Miller!" Missus Bonfamille sounded scandalized. "In all my years, I have never. This is beyond the pale of what I will permit…"

"I'm sorry!" Noah shook his head as he cut her off. "I didn't know that's what it meant. It's just the only sentence I know. Sorry!"

"The only sentence you know?" Bonfamille narrowed her eyes. "Where did you even hear it, then?"

Margaret froze. Oh bother. She hadn't expected that. In slow motion, she turned to look at Noah. He even had the paper on his desk, complete with her handwriting. Oh bother, oh bother, indeed.

He shot her a dull glare.

"A show on TV," he said, looking back at Bonfamille. "I'm very sorry, Missus Bonfamille. I did not intend to call you a, well…"

"Indeed." Bonfamille shook her head. "As this is the first day, I will overlook this indiscretion. See that it does not happen again, Mister Miller."

He sank back into his chair and, in a single fluid motion, flipped her the bird. He glared for a few seconds longer, his face as red as a tomato, before turning to look out the window. Margaret, on the very verge of feeling sorry for him after he'd so nobly covered for her, scowled. Really? Had he really done that? To her?

Well, fuck him for all she cared.

It was the first day, and Nibs already made a name for himself as the guy who'd called his French teacher a bitch. Fantastic, he thought, shoving his hands into his pockets and keeping his head low as he made his way through the corridors. Fucking fantastic. He couldn't even blame that annoying Margaret girl for setting him up, not when he'd been the idiot who'd asked for her help.

Had his refusal to give up his seat really been worth humiliating him in front of the entire class? Nibs didn't think so. Was everyone in this school so petty? No… Olivier seemed nice, and that Wren guy was funny, but… He sighed. What he wouldn't give to be back in Second Star High with Cubby and Slightly at his side. It was different there. If you had a problem with someone, you settled it after school, usually in the parking lot, and more often than not, fists would fly.

To be fair, he mused, he couldn't have solved this particular problem with his fists at Second Star High. For one, Margaret and Aurelia were girls, and he couldn't hit a girl. It was just… not right. For another, if he did take leave of his senses and raise a hand against either of them, Wendy would tan his hide.

"Well," he muttered to himself. "At least everyone got a good laugh out of it."

Following the crowd and hoping that they were heading towards the cafeteria, he couldn't help but feel as though every giggle was directed at him. It was stupid, he thought. Most of them were likely laughing about something else as they caught up with their friends after the summer, but then again, what if they were laughing at him?

"Hey!" Olivier shoved through the crowd to fall into step beside him. "Been looking for you."

"Found me," replied Nibs. At least there's one friendly face. "I'm starving."

"Unlucky you." Olivier chuckled. "Von Drake lets us snack in class. Should've taken chemistry, my dude."

"Geography wasn't so bad," said Nibs. "Thatch is hilarious."

The rest of the walk passed in idle chatter until, after what felt like forever, they reached the cafeteria. No wonder most of these people are skinny, Nibs thought. The food was an entire cardio-session away. He followed Olivier to the spread, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets at the sight of the food. Man, that looks good. One piled tray later, he found himself being led across the room to a table occupied by four people. Please be nice.

Seriously. If any of these people were on the same level as Aurelia and Margaret, he was going to run. Scratch that. He was going to grab his food and then run. There were four of them: a tall, thin boy with unnaturally white hair; a blond boy who had his arm around a short brunette that had been in his French class, and a stocky dark-haired boy who looked somewhat familiar.

"Lady, gentlemen, Cornelius," said Olivier with a theatrical flourish, grabbing the table's attention and making Nibs want to sink into the floor. "Allow me to introduce Sir Nibbington de Nibswor... " He paused, turning to Nibs and nudging him in the side. "What was it again?"

"Sir Nibbington Nibsworth de Nibbleton the third," said Nibs wryly. "But you can call me Nibs."

"Aren't you the guy who called Bonfamille a bitch?" said the girl, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Can't blame you. I've been wanting to call her that for years."

"That was you?" asked the blond. "Man, sit down, you'll fit right in." He stuck out a hand. "Cornelius Fitzherbert, very much a gentleman regardless of what this idiot says." He inclined his head in Olivier's direction.

"That is debatable," said the white-haired boy, offering Nibs a fist bump. "Nick Frost, nice to meet you."

"Ignore him as well," said Cornelius. "Alyssa, tell Sir Nibbington that I am a gentleman."

"He can sometimes be classified as a gentleman," said Alyssa with a mild shake of her head. "I'm Alyssa Rose."

"I will take that," said Cornelius.

"She's only saying that because they're dating," said the last boy, also offering him a fist bump. "Name's Morgan."

Morgan Thorne. Recognition shot through Nibs, and he pinched himself to keep his surprise from showing on his face. Of course he looks familiar. Nibs wasn't proud of it, but… cash was cash, and when there was nothing above board to do, Maleficent always paid well. As the thoughts raced through his mind, Morgan met his eye, giving him an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Nibs pinched himself again.

"So, Nibs, what's the deal?" asked Alyssa. "Is your French really that bad?"

"No hablo Francés," he replied with a shrug. "I took Spanish at my old school, but all the classes here were full when I transfered." He fished around in his pocket and pulled out the note before tossing it onto the table. "Cussing out the teacher wasn't my fault, though."

Nick snagged the note, raising his eyebrow as he scanned the words. "Margaret Charming, huh? You poor bastard."

"How'd you know?" asked Nibs. Her handwriting can't be that distinctive, can it?

"She used to write love letters and shove them into his locker when she was a freshman." Cornelius laughed. "Came up to me and asked for advice on winning him over once."

"After my dear cousin was done laughing, he told her she simply needed to man up." Nick chuckled. "She, erm, did not get the hint."

I don't get the hint either, thought Nibs, though he nodded along all the same. These people seemed nice, and they were being awfully cool about him just joining their table.

"Love letters from Margaret?" Morgan nudged Nick in the side. "Should I be jealous?"

Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

"So, Nibs," said Olivier, dragging his attention away from the lovey-dovey eyes that the boys across the table were making at each other. "Where're you from?"

"The West Side," he said. "Used to go to Second Star High."

He waited for the reactions, not knowing how well that would go over with this crowd. Considering that they were friends with Morgan, he didn't think that they were the type to hold that against him. People like Aurelia, on the other hand… she'd probably treat him like he had the plague if she knew.

"What you looking like that for?" asked Cornelius. "The West Side's great. They have the best burger place in the world. You know it? Corner of Tangled Street and—"

"The Snuggly Duckling." Nibs laughed, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Best place to be on a Friday night."

"Uncle Lance is magic when it comes to cooking. Best chef in the city," said Cornelius, raising a hand to high-five him. "His burgers are a lifesaver when you're hungover. Come for the flavour, stay for the grease, right?"

"Something like that," said Nibs, returning the high-five. Don't think about it. So what if the owner's his uncle?

"Mama's going to be beside herself when she hears," teased Olivier. "You call her the best chef in the city whenever you're over, but now we see it's all a ruse."

"Don't you say a word to your mother," said Cornelius, wagging a finger in Olivier's direction. "They're both the best."

"You're going to break Potts' heart," said Alyssa, nudging him in the side. "Last time you were over, you swore she was the best chef in the city. You're going to push her into retirement."

"Fine!" Cornelius threw up his hands. "Uncle Lance makes the best fast food in the city, Potts makes the best pancakes in the city, and Colette makes the best fine dining in the city. Everyone happy?"

If Nibs had felt like a fish out of water before, well, now he may as well be flopping around in a fisherman's basket. He focused on his food, hoping that the conversation would soon turn to something he could actually comment on, but his head was spinning. Where were Cubby and Slightly when you needed them? At this point, he'd even settle for Jane. They talked about normal things, like having to work after school, or a movie one of them wanted to go see at the drive-in.

"What about you, Nibs?" asked Nick. "Best chef you know?"

"Erm?" Nibs looked up from his tray, a bit of broccoli speared on the edge of his fork. It dangled for a moment before falling back into the bowl, and he blinked. He didn't know any chefs in the first place, let alone someone on the same level as Colette Linguini. "Tink makes really good fairy cakes."

"Ti—" Morgan began, and a look of understanding passed across his face. He stretched in his seat before getting to his feet. "Not much time until break ends, and I need a smoke. Anyone wanna join?"

"I'm trying to quit, but thanks for the offer," said Alyssa.

"I'll come, if you don't mind," said Nibs, hopping to his feet. "Going to need to stop by my locker, though. Left my stuff in my jacket."

"No worries," said Morgan, "You can bump one of me."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started walking, leaving Nibs no other chance but to follow. He didn't know this school, and he definitely didn't know where the spot was. It probably wasn't in the toilets, which had been the smoker's den of choice back in Second Star High. They left the bustle of the cafeteria, and as soon as they were in the deserted corridor, Morgan slowed.

"Tink, huh?" he asked, and it was impossible to not notice the sympathy in his voice. "Seen you around Malevolence a few times. Never figured you were one of hers. Tink know you used to run delivery for my mother?"

"I'm sure she suspects," said Nibs. "She and Peter try, you know, but c'mon. There's a lot of kids in Neverland and just two of them. Us older guys have to help out where we can."

"And Mum always paid well for a job done right." Morgan snorted. "She owe you anything?"

"Nope," said Nibs. "My last run was before she got… you know"

"Arrested?" supplied Morgan, raising an eyebrow. "I was there when the cops busted down the doors, Nibs, there's no need to sugarcoat." He shook himself before sucking in a deep breath. "That's not important. I didn't give you an excuse to bail so we could talk about my mother."

"Thanks for the bail out, anyway," replied Nibs, knowing better than to say anything more about Maleficent Thorne and her drug cartel. "It's never fun to tell people you live in an orphanage."

"I could tell by your expression," Morgan clapped him on the shoulder. "Listen, I get it. I know what it's like to not fit in with the people here. C'mon, I'm here on drug money, and you're here—"

"Community Outreach Scholarship Programme," said Nibs. "Yeah, I get what you're trying to say."

"So if you need to talk or vent, just hit me up, okay?" concluded Morgan. "You know how we roll in the West Side."

"Yeah." Nibs smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, man. Thanks a lot."