An hour later, the bus pul ed into a parking lot. Kylie had seen the Shadow Fal s Camp sign posted in front. A wiggle of fear stirred in her stomach. She shifted her gaze around, almost surprised the place didn't have a high fence and a locked gate. They were, after al , considered to be

"troubled" teens.

Kylie heard the bus engine rumble to a stop. The bus driver jumped down from the seat and stretched her little chubby arms up over her head. Kylie still didn't know how she reached the gas pedals.

"We're the last bus to arrive, guys," she said. "Everyone is waiting in the mess hal . Leave your things in the bus and someone wil bring them to your cabins later."

Kylie looked at her suitcase. She hadn't put a tag on it. How would they know it was her suitcase? Easy-they wouldn't. Great, she could take the luggage with her and risk getting in trouble for not fol owing the rules, or leave it and risk losing al her clothes. She was not going to lose her clothes. She reached for her suitcase. "They'l bring it to you," Miranda said.

"It doesn't have my name on it," Kylie replied, trying to keep the sharpness from her tone.

"They'l figure it out. I promise," she said as if trying to be nice.

But was Kylie going to believe her? No.

Suddenly, the green-eyed Trey lookalike moved into the aisle. "Believe her," he said.

Kylie looked at him. While she didn't trust Miranda, there was something about this guy she believed. While standing there, he reached in his pocket and pul ed out some money and dropped it in her hands.

"Excuse me," Goth Girl, said, and pushed past Miranda.

Kylie stared at the dol ar and few coins.

"It's your change from the store." He motioned for her to step into the aisle.

She dropped the money into her purse and started out. His footsteps dogged hers. She felt him behind her. Felt him lean in a little closer, his shoulder brushing against her back.

"My name's Derek, by the way."

Caught up in listening to his deep voice and feeling Derek behind her, she didn't see Blond Boy jump out into the aisle. In mid-step motion, Kylie had one of two choices. Plow into Blondie or fal back into Derek. An easy decision. Derek's hands caught her by the upper forearms. His fingers pressed against her bare skin where her sleeves ended.

She looked up over her shoulder and their gazes met.

He smiled. "You okay?"

Amazing smile. Like Trey's. Her heart did a little jump. God, she missed Trey.

"Yeah." She pul ed away, but not before noting Derek's warm touch. Why that seemed important she didn't know, but the pale girl's coldness had left an equal y odd impression.

They moved out of the bus and made their way into a large cabin-like structure. Right before Kylie entered the door, she heard a strange kind of roar. Like a lion. She paused to see if she heard it again, and Derek bumped into her. "We'd better move inside," he whispered. Kylie's stomach fluttered with fear. As she took that first step over the threshold, she somehow sensed her life would forever be changed. About fifty or sixty people fil ed the huge dining hal that had large picnic tables running paral el to each other, and the air smel ed like pork-nbeans and gril ed hamburgers. Some of the kids were sitting, others were standing. Something felt off, odd. It took her a minute to realize what it was. Silence. No one spoke. If this was the school's lunch room, she probably wouldn't be able to hear herself think. And that's what everyone appeared to be doing right now. Thinking. A quick sweep of the crowd had Kylie once again feeling as if she didn't belong here. There was a large amount of what Kylie's mom would cal

"rebel ion evidence." Sure, Kylie rebel ed. But she guessed she did her thing in less noticeable ways, not so much with her clothes and such, but in her surroundings. Like the time she and Sara had painted her room purple without permission. Her mom had freaked. These kids, they didn't just paint their rooms, they wore their rebel ion boldly. Like Miranda's hair or that other kid on the bus who had nose rings and piercings. As Kylie's gaze shifted around, she noticed a couple of kids had tattoos or shaved heads. And there were tons more goth-dressed kids. Black obviously had not gone out of style with troubled kids.

Uneasiness started crawling on Kylie's skin. Maybe she had hung out with Sara too long, but it seemed evident that she didn't fit in. But unlike Sara, Kylie wasn't so eager to become one with this crowd.

Two months. Two months. She repeated the words like a litany in her head. In two months, she'd be out of here. Kylie fol owed Blond Boy to an empty table in the back. And when she got there, she realized al her bus companions had hung together. Not that she felt as if she belonged with them, she hadn't even had eye contact with some of them, but face it, a known freak was better than an unknown one.

Suddenly, Kylie started feeling people turn and look at her. Or were they looking at al of them? The new kids were on display. The crowd's gazes became a col age of cold stares with different-colored eyes, but similar expressions and a lot of eyebrow twitching. Weirded out to the max, she looked at Derek, then Miranda and even Pale Girl and Blond Boy, and damn it if they were doing it, too. The eyebrow thing. It wasn't cartoonish, and not as noticeable as Sara's whole rol your eyes and pucker your brows kind of thing, but just a little twitch. Like Derek had done back at the convenience store.

What was it with the eyebrows?

Looking back into the crowd, fighting the urge to look down at her shoes, she forced herself to hold their gazes. Face it, she didn't want to be the chicken of the bunch. The one everyone picked on. And if that made her like Sara, so be it.

"Looks as if we are al here," a female voice said from the front.

Kylie tried to find the face behind the voice, but her gaze clashed with another stare-a cold, bright blue-eyed stare that somehow stood out from the rest. Pul ing her attention away from just the eyes, Kylie noticed the boy's jet-black hair. And just like that, she remembered. She remembered him.

She remembered ... her cat.

"It can't be," she muttered under her breath.

"What can't be?" Derek asked.

"Nothing." Kylie forced her gaze to the front where the woman spoke in a singsong type of voice.

"Welcome to Shadow Fal s Camp. We are..."

The woman, probably mid-twenties, had long red hair that hung almost to her waist. She wore jeans and a bright yel ow T-shirt. Standing beside her was another woman about the same age, but good God, she wore goth. Al black, even her eyes appeared black. Somebody real y needed to subscribe to a fashion magazine or two.

Kylie looked over at Goth Girl who'd been on her bus. The girl stared at the woman with a sense of admiration.

"My name is Holiday Brandon and this is Sky Peacemaker."

Right then the cabin door opened and a couple of men walked in. They looked like lawyers, or some other serious type of profession that demanded they wear matching black suits.

Kylie watched the two women up front shift their gazes to the visitors and frown. She got the feeling the two men weren't expected. That they were even unwelcome.

Sky, the goth leader, walked over and led the men outside and Holiday continued. "Okay," the singsong voice said. "First we're breaking down into newbies and returnees. Everyone who has been here before wil move outside. You'l find some helpers out there with your schedules and cabin assignments. As always, the rules of this place are posted in your cabins. We expect you to read them. And let me make something clear right now, we're not going to rearrange cabin assignments. You are here to get along, and get along you wil . If a serious problem arises, bring it to the attention of either myself or Sky and we'l discuss it, but not until after twenty-four hours. Any questions?"

Someone in the front raised a hand. "Yeah," the female voice echoed in the room. "I have a question."

Kylie leaned to the right to see the girl. The girl, another goth-dressed individual, turned around. "It doesn't have anything to do with the rules, but ... I want to know, who the hel is she?"

The girl pointed-pointed right at the table where Kylie stood. Or was she pointing right at Kylie? No, she couldn't be. Oh, damn. She was. She was pointing at Kylie. "Crap," she muttered when about sixty pair of eyes al turned and focused directly on her.