They don't know me, yet they pretend they do. They pretend to be my friends, but I know otherwise. There is no tricking me…

—

"Hey, what is that?" Jordan asked. Sam closed her book quickly.

"Nothing."

"Oh come on. You've been here for two weeks already and have yet to tell anybody what is written in there. Is it your murder list?"

"Hardly." Jordan regarded her with amusement. She was the new girl. Although people pretended to like her, and maybe some did, new people were rarely accepted into major cliques. But this girl… she had made no move to enter one. This astounded Jordan. It amazed him so much that he had offered her friendship many times and had ordered others to also. But she never regarded them in a friendly way.

"So…what is it then?"

"You've asked once," the girl said, standing and stuffing the black leather-bound book into her bag. "And I didn't tell you. So you're second attempt is completely useless as well."

Jordan walked backwards in front of her.

"But surely you can trust me?"

She arched an eyebrow, but gave no response.

"Please?" he whimpered. "You don't talk much. Why is that?"

"Because you're the one I'd be talking to."

"Ouch." He grinned. "But hey—a sense of humor. We're making progress."

"Oh look, you're admirers want an autograph. I'll leave you to it."

"It's a date!" Jordan called to her as she walked the stone path leading off school grounds.

"What was that, Jordan?" Michelle asked, giving her boyfriend a kiss. He shrugged.

"Just being friendly."