Not that there's anything wrong with what they were doing, if you ask me.

Still. I'm kind of disappointed. I'd have thought a girl like Mary would have better taste than to go out with a guy like Sebastian Drake.

Which I guess goes to prove that what Veronica's always saying about me is right: What I don't know about girls could fill the East River.

I can't believe this. I mean, that I'm standing in the alley next to Swig, talking to Adam Blum, who sits behind me in Mrs. Gregory's fourth-period U.S. History. Not to mention Teddy Hancock, Adam's best friend.

And Lila's ex.

Whom Lila is currently steadfastly ignoring.

I've taken the ash-tipped arrow from the stock and slipped it back into my case. There will be, I know now, no extermination tonight.

Although I suppose I should be grateful that I wasn't the one who got snuffed out. If it hadn't been for Adam… well, I wouldn't be standing here right now, trying to explain to him something that's… well, frankly inexplicable.

"Seriously, Mary." Adam is regarding me with somber brown eyes. Funny that I'd never noticed how good-looking he is before now. Oh, he's no Sebastian Drake. Adam's hair is as dark as mine and his irises are dark as syrup, not blue as the sea.

But he does fairly well for himself with his broad-shouldered swimmer's physique-he's led Saint Eligius Prep to the regional finals in the butterfly two years in a row-and a six-foot frame (so tall that I practically have to crane my neck to see up into his face, my own height being a sadly disappointing-to me, anyway-five feet). He's a more than middling student and popular, too, if you count all the freshman girls who swoon every time he passes them in the hallway (not that he seems to notice).