I lie back down and pull the covers over my head, trying to decide what I want to do. I’m still lying there ten minutes later when Macy wakes up with a grumble.

The first thing she does is slap at her alarm until it stops again—something I am eternally grateful for, considering she picked the most grating, annoying sound ever created to wake up to—but it takes her only a second to climb out of bed and come over to me.

“Grace?” she whispers softly, like she wants to check on me but doesn’t want to wake me up at the same time.

“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Just sore.”

“Yuck. That’s probably dehydration.” She crosses to the fridge in the corner of the room and pulls out a pitcher of water. She pours two glasses and then hands me one as she settles back onto her bed. She spends a minute texting—Cam, I figure—before tossing her phone aside and looking at me. “I have to go to my classes today—I’ve got tests in three of them—but I’ll come back and check on you when I can.”

I’m pretty much loving her assumption that I’m not going to class, so I don’t argue. Except to say, “You don’t have to go out of your way to check on me. I’m feeling much better.”

“Good, then you can consider this a mental health day, of the Holy crap, I just moved to Alaska! variety.”

“There’s an actual mental health day for that?” I tease, moving around until I’m sitting up with my back against the wall.

Macy snorts. “There are whole mental health months for that. Alaska’s not easy.”

It’s my turn to snort. “No kidding. I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours and I’ve already figured that out.”

“That’s just because you’re afraid of wolves,” she teases.

“And bears,” I admit without a flicker of embarrassment. “As any sane person should be.”

“You have a point.” She grins. “You should take the day and do whatever you want. Read a book, watch some trash TV, eat my stash of junk food if your stomach feels up to it. Dad will let your teachers know you’ll be starting tomorrow instead of today.”

I hadn’t even thought of Uncle Finn. “Will your dad be okay with me skipping class?”

“He’s the one who suggested it.”

“How does he know—?” I break off when a knock sounds at the door. “Who—?”

“My dad,” Macy says as she crosses the room and throws open the door with a flourish. “Who else?”

Except it’s not Uncle Finn at all. It’s Flint, who takes one look at Macy in her tiny nightshirt and me in last night’s dress and smeared makeup and starts grinning like a dork.

“Looking good, ladies.” He gives a low whistle. “Guess you decided to take the tea party up a notch or four last night, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Macy taunts as she makes a beeline for the bathroom and the privacy it affords. I don’t bother to answer, just stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and raises his eyebrows in response.

“I would like to know,” Flint tells me as he crosses over to sit on the end of my bed. “Where’d you run off to? And why?”

Because telling him the whole reason involves trying to explain my bizarre reaction to Jaxon—not to mention everything that came after—I settle for part of the truth. “The altitude really started getting to me. I felt like I was going to throw up, so I came back to the room.”

That wipes the smile off his face. “How are you now? Altitude sickness isn’t anything to fool around with. Can you breathe okay?”

“I can breathe fine. I swear,” I add when he doesn’t look convinced. “I’m feeling almost normal today. Just had to get used to the mountains, I guess.”

“Speaking of mountains.” Flint’s appealing grin is back. “That’s why I came by. A bunch of us are having a snowball fight after dinner tonight. Thought you might want to join in…if you feel okay, I mean.”

“A snowball fight?” I shake my head. “I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t even know how to make a snowball, let alone how to throw one.”

He looks at me like I’m being silly. “You pick up snow, you pack it into a ball, and then you throw it at the nearest person.” He uses his hands to mime his words. “It’s not exactly hard.”

I stare at him, unconvinced.

“Come on, New Girl. Give it a try. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Careful, Grace.” Macy comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Never trust a…” She trails off when Flint turns to her, brows raised.

“They’re having a snowball fight after class today,” I tell her. “He wants us to join.” He hadn’t invited Macy in so many words, but there’s no way I’m going without her. And from the sudden smile on her face, I’m guessing I made the right choice.

“Seriously? We have to go, Grace. Flint’s snowball fights are legendary around here.”

“That doesn’t exactly raise my confidence level, considering I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’ll be fine,” they both say at the same time.

It’s my turn to raise my brows as I look back and forth between them.

“Trust me,” Flint implores. “I’ll take good care of you.”

“Don’t trust him,” Macy tells me. “Put a snowball in that boy’s hand and he’s utterly diabolical. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.”

I still think it’s a bad idea, but Flint and Macy are my only two actual friends at Katmere. Who knows what will happen with Lia, and as for Jaxon… Jaxon is a lot of things, but I definitely wouldn’t call him a friend. Or even friendly, for that matter.

“Okay, fine,” I give in gracefully. “But if I end up dying in the middle of the fight, I’m going to haunt both of you forever.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll survive,” Macy assures me.

Flint, on the other hand, just winks. “And if not, I can think of worse ways to spend eternity.”

Before I can come up with a response to that, he leans over and drops a kiss on my cheek. “See you later, New Girl.” And then he’s gone, slipping out the door without a backward glance.

I’m left with a wide-eyed, openmouthed Macy, who is all but clapping her hands in delight over one little peck. And the sad knowledge that no matter how adorable Flint is, he doesn’t make me feel anything close to what Jaxon does.