Again she stopped, this time with a frown. "Excuse us," she muttered, grabbing my right hand and roughly leading the way outside. Closing the door, she swung me up against a wall, checked to make sure we were alone in the hall, leant in close and hissed, "Where the hell have you been all these years?"

"Here and there," I smiled, eyes roving her face, stunned by how much she'd changed. She was taller too — even taller than me now.

"Why is your face the same?" she snapped. "You look almost exactly as I remember you. You've aged a year or two, but it's been thirteen years!"

"How time flies," I smirked, then stole a quick kiss. "Good to see you again, Miss Hemlock."

Debbie froze at the kiss, then took a step back. "Don't do that."

"Sorry. Just glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you too. But if anyone sees me kissing a student…"

"Oh, Debbie, I'm not really a student. You know that. I'm old enough to be… Well, you know how old I am."

"I thought I did. But your face…" She traced the outline of my jaw, then my lips and nose, then the small triangular scar above my right eye. "You've been in the wars," she noted.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you how right you are," I smiled.

"Darren Shan." She shook her head and repeated my name. "Darren Shan."

Then she slapped me!

"What's that for?" I yelped.

"For leaving without saying goodbye and ruining my Christmas," she growled.

"That was thirteen years ago. Surely you're not still upset about it."

"The Hemlocks can carry a grudge a long, long time," she said, but there was the glint of a smile in her eyes.

"I did leave you a going-away present," I said.

For a moment her face was blank. Then she remembered. "The tree!"