Deanna Winchester is the most popular girl at Lebanon Prep Girl’s Academy. She comes to class late (if she bothers to show at all), doesn’t wear the school uniform after 4th period PE, talks loud, laughs louder, and smells like motor oil and gun powder. 

There’s a rumor going around that she can get any girl to kiss her, and has worked through half the Freshman class before the semester is even over.

The teachers don’t say anything about her attendance or the uniform violations. None of the other students say anything about it, either. They seem to know something, but never talk about it. 

They’re a clique anyway, most of them having been at the school since kindergarten. They don’t open up to outsiders. Deanna isn’t an outsider.

Casiel Novak is an outsider at Lebanon Prep Girl’s Academy. She joined the school starting Freshman year. She comes to class early (never missing a day), wears the school uniform of pressed white shirt, blue tie, modest blue skirt, and khaki jacket, perfectly, talks rarely, laughs less, and smells like lilacs and fresh laundry sheets.

There’s a rumor that her family is in witness protection, and it’s worked through the entire Freshman class before the semester even started.

The teachers don’t say much about her because she is an unobtrusively excellent student. She’s in Honor’s and AP classes, homework always complete and turned in on time.

It’s a mundane life, but Casiel doesn’t hate it. She doesn’t like it, either. It’s all so gray. Tasteless like the lunch she portions out neatly every morning and eats in the empty quad because she learned very quickly how embarrassing it is to try to find a seat in the crowded cafeteria where no one will make a place.

It’s freezing today, but the cherry trees are about to bloom. They’ll be lovely. There are dozens of the trees around the school. The sun is bright, too, so Casiel doesn’t shiver too much as she unwraps her PB&J.

“Hi!” someone says brightly.

Casiel takes a bit of her sandwich, ignoring the voice since it’s not for her. It’s never for her.

Until a pair of jean-clad legs appears in front of her. Then a green flannel shirt. And then the grinning face of Deanna Winchester.

Casiel blinks. She has green eyes.

“Can you hear?” Deanna asks slowly. “Is that why you never talk?”

“I can hear and talk,” Casiel says faintly. Up close, Deanna is beautiful. Light freckles across her nose, long eyelashes, dusty brown hair. She looks like the summertime. Suddenly Casiel understands why so many other girls would kiss her full mouth.

“Why are you out here by yourself?” Deanna asks, popping the collar of her weathered leather jacket against the chill.

“No room at the inn,” Casiel answers, hoping she does’t sound too bitter. She is, but she doesn’t like to show it.

It surprises her more fully when Deanna collapses onto the bench next to her. “Ugh, these people here. Acting like the only friends worth having are the ones they’ve known since they pissed the bed.”

“I’m okay with it,” Casiel say softly. She doesn’t want to rock the boat with the most popular girl in school.

Deanna grabs the bag of chips in Casiel’s lunch box and pops it open. “No, you aren’t,” she says breezily, tossing a handful into her mouth.

She can’t explain why, but she finds herself saying, “no, I’m not.”

Deanna laughs. It sounds as much like the summer as she looks.”That’s okay.” She stands up and holds out the bag of chips. She shakes it until Casiel takes the clue and stands up, too. “I’m gonna go make room at the inn. You coming?” She turns around, taking long strides back towards the main building. She doesn’t even look to see if she’s being followed; confident that she is.

Casiel fumbles for her things and jogs to catch up. She can’t explain why, but she feels like the warmer weather will come earlier this year.