The plan came to me the following Monday.

It was my third class that day. English. I'd missed it for the rest of the week—I'd been forced to skip it for physical therapy each day, which was a shame. It had always been my favourite class; Mr. Prendler was a brilliant teacher and the subject fascinated me because I loved to read. Not in the same way Kaelin did; she'd explained it to me once, the way the characters and the stories felt so real to her, the way that it made her feel, an unimaginable high when everything in the story reached a crescendo. I just found reading calming.

There was one downside, however. It was my class with Hartley.

We hadn't had another class together since we were little. Our rivalry was well known, and considered by the teachers to be a distraction to both Jace and I, and everyone else who was forced to listen to our sniping. They probably weren't wrong. I think the final straw was when we'd both thrown a chair at each other on the final day of Year 4. We'd both missed.

But English. Well, if I was good at English, Jace Hartley was excellent. He wasn't particularly gifted in any other school subjects as far as I knew, a steady C student, but when Hartley got ahold of a pen? Yeah, the boy could write.

And since there was only one advanced English class, the school administration was forced to put us together, with a harsh warning that if we stepped too far out of line, we'd both be dropped into an on level class. We hadn't been dropped yet, because we were both experts at toeing that line. Arguments and passive aggressive taunts aside, we were model students.

Plus, I think Prendler found us entertaining.

"Good morning again, Lena," he said as I came into the classroom. "Nice to see you made it into school."

I grinned at him. "Well, thanks for the advice on how to make it into the building."

"The wheelbarrow method didn't seem like it was going to be particularly effective." He gestured to a seat at the front of the class. Ugh. "Take a seat. The class has missed you. Been very quiet around here."

I gave him an awkward thumbs up. "I'll be sure to remedy that."

I took my seat and tucked my crutches under my seat. I was the first person in the room; my previous class had been only next door.

A steady stream of students began to pile into the room. Most of them waved at me. We had all shared this advanced class for years, a motley bunch of people with a shared talent for English. There were kids I'd missed, kids I'd forgotten were in this class, Kaelin (who always walked into the room with her head buried into her phone, reading on the iBooks app so she looked slightly less nerdy), kids so pretentious and insufferable I'd forcibly blocked them from my memory. And finally, coming behind them all, Jace Hartley.

His face lit up when he saw me, a sure sign of horrible things to come. So I turned to face Kaelin, who always sat to my right. "Oi, get your head out of your book."

Kaelin looked up, wearing a sheepish expression. She knew I hated it when she ignored me in favour of a book. "I was texting Cady," she lied.

"Cady doesn't text."

Kaelin looked confused. "She doesn't?"

"She likes ignoring people."

"Huh."

I shook my head in amused exasperation. Kaelin was one of the most oblivious people alive.

Jace fell into the seat on my left. "If you need entertainment, I'm around."

I glared at him. Adam Lopez had sat to my left for five years, and while he wasn't much of a conversationalist, he didn't inspire murderous fantasies. I was going to walk out of this classroom in handcuffs.

"I heard your entertainment was of the cheap, backstreet variety," I retorted.

He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Ouch."

I turned towards Kaelin, hoping to find a reluctant ally in my cousin, but she was already reading her book again.

Thankfully, I didn't need to resort to Hartley's cheap entertainment, because Holland Rivers slumped into the seat in front of me, with McKenna Wright slipping in beside her. I smiled cheerfully at the pair. "Oh, hey, guys!"

"Lena," said McKenna, whirling around in her seat. Her smile was sunny as it bloomed across her face, alighting her eyes. She reminded me of Daria when she smiled. "You're back!"

"I am," I said.

"The peace and quiet was killing me," Holland said. "I missed the constant jabber of fighting behind me."

I punched Hartley cheerfully in the arm. He rolled his eyes. "It's your lucky day, then, because I am in the mood to jabber and fight."

"Lena, you're always in the mood to jabber and fight," said McKenna.

McKenna was Jace's ex-girlfriend, and genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. I don't know what it was about Hartley that attracted girls who were far too good for him. Thankfully, McKenna had escaped from his evil clutches. Or, well, Jace had dropped her, from all reports. When she gazed over at him, her eyes flickering quickly in his direction, I could see the longing that lay within them.

"Update me on the happenings," I said quickly. When McKenna's eyes returned to me, steady, I knew my distraction had worked. "What's been going on? I've missed so much. Kaelin is the only one to fill me in, and she never actually knows what's happening."

"What?" said Kaelin, looking up from her phone.

I pointed at her, as if to say exactly.

"Not much, honestly," said McKenna. "School is school. Um, Kaelin walked into a wall yesterday?"

"She did the same thing at my house like two days ago." I looked over at Kaelin, who was smiling dreamily. Maybe she had knocked a few screws loose in her consistent connections with plaster and wood.

"Nate Lever tied one of the younger kids to a pole outside the school," Holland offered. "Daria helped the kid down when she found out. Nate had taken his pants."

Daria's boyfriend kind of sucked.

Jace said, "Well, in my news, I got to enjoy a peaceful few months without being emotionally assaulted by you."

"No one asked for your input," I said sweetly.

"Yeah, that's the stuff," said Holland.

"Have there been any parties?" I asked. I loved parties; Kaelin thought they were awful and disgusting.

Holland shrugged. "Not really. Most people were away over the summer. Marc McGovern is throwing one tonight, I think, if you wanted to go?"

"Will you be there?"

Holland raised an eyebrow. "Are you shitting me? Marc McGovern is the worst. I wouldn't be caught dead there."

It was true; Marc McGovern did suck. His parties were an adventure in stoners and dropkicks. I was almost about to voice my agreement when Jace said, "You can't even go anyways. You're, like, crippled. You couldn't even get up the stairs this morning."

I glared at him. Stupid Jace Hartley, telling me what I could and couldn't do. I was going to smash his face in with my crutches, and then I was going to prove him wrong.

Thankfully, I didn't need to resort to Hartley's cheap entertainment, because Prendler shot our group a warning look, before clearing his throat and delving into the inspiration behind The Crucible.

I was usually completely and utterly immersed in Prendler's classes. He was my favourite teacher and English was my favourite subject. Plus, The Crucible was better than most of the books we were assigned to read. The language was tedious, but the Salem witch trials were interesting. John Proctor was a foul excuse for a human being, though. Jace probably thought he was the MVP.

Unfortunately, my attention was completely occupied by Hartley poking me periodically in the ribs. It was a return to our kindergarten days, when our pranks were far less sophisticated and we weren't yet old enough to realise that pinching and kicking were unacceptable forms of vengeance.

I slapped his hand as he reached over to tentatively poke me again. "Get your finger away from me," I said in a hissed whisper.

"This," said Holland. "This is what I've missed."

"Sorry," Jace said. He'd never apologized to me before. But then he poked me again, so he clearly hadn't changed all that much. "You were ignoring me."

Kaelin snorted a laugh beside me.

"Was I?" I said in a low voice. I could see Prendler eyeing us. Stupid front row. At least it gave me an excuse to ignore Hartley. "I'm focusing on my education."

Jace snorted. "Since when?"

I glared back at him before turning to face the front of the room again.

"Oi, Montez." Poke.

Years of toeing the line, of keeping my head down, of ignoring everything that was Jace Hartley; it almost came to a head at that moment. I was ready to kill him. I could learn to embrace orange.

"Don't," Kaelin warned.

I plastered a sweet smile on my face and turned towards him, my voice hushed to avoid attracting Prendler's attention. "Can I help you, Hartley?"

"You can, actually," he said. "I need to come over to your place tonight."

I almost laughed. "You need to what?"

He gestured towards the board, a shit-eating grin on his stupid face. "You might not have realized, Montez, since you were away and all. We've been paired up for a group project. Well, I volunteered to be your partner, at least, when Prendler asked who would."

Prendler's loopy handwriting formed a phrase that would be burned into my nightmares. THE CRUCIBLE ANALYSIS PAPER, DUE AUGUST 15th, TOPICS TO BE DISCUSSED

August 15th. As in, months away. As in, it is currently March, the leaves are just starting to fall, and I'm supposed to work on a project until the leaves have long fallen and died, shriveled like my will to live.

I whirled to face Kaelin, who was studiously taking notes about McCarthyism. "Um, what?"

She looked towards me blankly. "Oh yeah. Jace offered to be your partner."

"Why am I only hearing about this now?"

Kaelin shrugged. "I forgot."

Sometimes I wanted to strangle her.

Jace looked thrilled. "Can't wait to spend heaps of time together, Montez. We're going to be best buds by the end of this. Pals, lifelong bosom buddies. You'll be sending me a card on my 90th birthday with a beautiful speech reminiscing on our many years of close friendship."

I saw Prendler eyeing us after Jace's hellish declaration. I smiled and waved, and he rolled his eyes and continued talking about the moral ambiguity of Abigail's actions.

"Why would you not volunteer to be my partner?" I asked Kaelin.

Kaelin shrugged again. "McKenna asked me."

"I can't believe you didn't stop this," I hissed at all three of the girls. Well, mostly Holland and Kaelin. I didn't have the heart to be angry at McKenna. "Et tu, Brute. Blood is thicker than water and whatnot."

Kaelin grinned. "Yeah, maybe, but that cookie dough ice-cream that McKenna makes is thicker than blood, and I would like to finish our partnership with diabetes."

Jace seemed sympathetic to Kaelin's ideas. "It is really good ice-cream."

I slumped in my chair, thoughts of the months to come already giving rise to all-consuming dread. "I hate you both. I hate everything. I wish that the car crash killed me."

Kaelin through a wadded-up paper ball at my head. "No, you don't. Stop being so dramatic."

Prendler looked up from his copy of The Crucible. "Are you three finished? Kaelin, please stop throwing paper in my class. Lena, sit up straight." He looked at Jace. "Whatever you're doing, stop it."

Jace was appalled. "Who says I've done anything?"

Prendler was unamused. "You're sitting next to Lena. You are definitely involved. Also, your copy of the book is upside down."

Jace, dedicated, model student that he was, looked sheepish and turned his book around. He was faintly red. Public humiliation was my favourite colour on him.

After half an hour with his head down, not a single word exchanged between us—the way I liked it, of course—Hartley's hand passed over my desk and deposited a folded sheet of paper.

Kaelin looked on with interest as I unfolded it to read his message.

YOUR PLACE, AFTER SCHOOL? WE NEED TO FIGURE OUT A TOPIC.

Oh, yeah. I had a plan.