The new bicycle groaned under the weight of two, but Grace didn't care. She pedaled with a rhythmic, stubborn intensity, her dark hair whipping behind her as they coasted down the long, sloped transit-way toward the school. Mable sat behind her, arms looped around Grace’s waist, leaning her head against her back to shield her face from the biting morning wind.

  "Ace, slow down! The turn is coming up!" Mable called out, her voice muffled by Grace’s coat.

  "I’ve got it, Mabes! Trust the pilot!" Grace shouted back, a grin plastered on her face.

  They rounded the corner near the lower tiers, but Grace slammed on the brakes so hard the back tire skidded across the frost. A few yards ahead, a group of Section D boys—the same crowd as Jax—had pinned a smaller boy against a Luma-conduit. The boy was new; his uniform was too crisp, his bag too clean, and his face was a mask of sheer, wide-eyed panic.

  "Move it," Grace said, not even getting off the bike. She just sat there, balancing it with one foot on the ground, looking at the seniors with a bored expression. "You're blocking the lane."

  Jax turned, a sneer forming. "Go around, brat. We’re busy teaching the new kid how things work in the Heights."

  Grace tilted her head, her obsidian eyes catching the morning light. "I don't like the long way. It’s uphill. And you," she pointed a grease-stained finger at Jax, "are boring me. Again."

  The "new kid" took advantage of the distraction to duck under Jax's arm. Grace didn't wait for a fight to start. She just whistled, a sharp, piercing sound. "Hey, look! Headmaster’s cart!"

  The seniors jumped, looking over their shoulders toward the empty bend in the road. By the time they realized it was a lie, Grace had already pedaled past them, the new boy trailing awkwardly in her wake as he scrambled to get away.

  The first period in Section A was always a drone of history and mathematics. Grace was busy spinning the Chronos-Spinner Mable had bought her, her fingers moving with a blur of mechanical habit, when the door creaked open.

  The Headmaster walked in, followed by the boy from the road.

  "Class, this is Caleb. He’s just transferred from the Lower Basin. Caleb, take the empty seat next to Grace."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Grace didn't look up, but she shifted her bag off the chair beside her. Caleb sat down tentatively, stealing a glance at the girl who had saved him. She looked different in the classroom—less like a whirlwind and more like a focused, sharp-edged student.

  "Thanks," Caleb whispered, leaning in. "For earlier."

  Grace finally looked at him. She gave him a short, effortless nod. "Don't mention it. Jax is a moron. I just wanted my bike path clear."

  "I'm Caleb."

  "Grace."

  He blinked. Grace? He looked at her, confused. He was certain the golden-haired girl on the bike had been shouting something else. Something shorter. Ace. He opened his mouth to ask, but the teacher’s ruler snapped against the chalkboard, and the moment was gone.

  When the lunch bell rang, Grace stood up and vanished before Caleb could even pack his pens. Curious, and still feeling like a fish out of water, he followed the crowd toward the central fountain.

  He found her exactly where he expected—sitting on the stone basin next to the girl with the golden curls.

  "You're late, Ace," Mable said, already holding out a wrapped sandwich. "Did you get stuck in the lab again?"

  "Teacher was talking about 'thermal dynamics,'" Grace said, taking a massive bite of the sandwich. "I told her the pipes in Section A are inefficient. She didn't like that."

  Caleb hovered a few feet away, clutching his lunch bag. Grace spotted him and jerked her chin toward the stone ledge. "Sit down, Bro. Before Jax finds you again."

  Mable looked up, her blue eyes widening in surprise. She looked at Caleb, then at Grace, and a soft, knowing smile spread across her face. She saw the way Caleb was looking at Grace—with a mix of awe and total confusion.

  "I'm Mable," she said, her voice gentle and welcoming. "You're the one from the road?"

  "Caleb," he managed, sitting on the very edge of the stone. "Yeah. She... Grace helped me."

  Mable giggled, a light, musical sound. "She does that. But she usually expects you to pay in snacks eventually."

  "I don't!" Grace protested, though she reached over and snagged a grape from Mable’s pile anyway.

  Mable watched Caleb relax as Grace began to tell a ridiculous story about a faulty pressure valve. Mable leaned back, satisfied. This new boy wasn't a threat to their circle; he was just another person caught in Grace's orbit. And for the first time, Mable thought that having a third person might not be so bad.

  "Welcome to the Heights, Caleb," Mable said softly.

  Caleb looked at Mable and Grace. He took a bite of his bread and gently smiled. "Thanks. I think I'm going to like it here."