Conner doesn't look like his mom but they have the same easygoing manner. Her hug is warm and genuine—the way my dad hugs but with significantly less squeeze. My mother's hugs are superficial by comparison, like she's afraid to wrinkle or to be wrinkled. But she has her way of showing that she loves me. I think she genuinely believes it will be good for me to spend a little time away from Haddock—and I'm starting to think she's right.

Not that I'd ever tell her.

Mrs. Barlow kicks us out fifteen minutes before the morning bell so she can get ready for her class. Conner leads me back to the upper school through his "secret" shortcut, which turns out to be the main courtyard.

"I really like your mom," I say when he opens the cafeteria door for me.

"Everyone likes my mom."

"Paige said the same thing about you."

"And you believe a girl who observes life through security cameras?" 

"I believe what I've seen."

"In the last 24 hours?" he asks, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other. It's a valid point but it feels like I've known him a lot longer than one day.

He stops in front of the vending machine and digs into his pocket. "You have a lot to learn about this place," he says.

"You're going to teach me, right?"

"After your behavior in the library yesterday..." He drops a knee to the green Linoleum floor, takes my hand and bows his head. "I am your humble servant."

"Get up, you goof." I retract my hand. Conner gives me a dopey smile before he stands and turns to the vending machine. "Are you one of those boys who's incapable of sincerity?"

A pack of peanut butter crackers thunks into the retrieval slot. Breakfast of champions.

He takes his time fishing them out, stashing them his pocket, still smiling. But then he puts a hand on each of my shoulders and I've never seen him look more serious. "My mom says I have good instincts about people, but I didn't see you coming. Yesterday in the library I was blown away. You didn't even flinch when I told you about Paige. And then you volunteered to help her. I think you might be the coolest girl I've ever met."

He drops his arms but his eyes hold mine and a warm rush climbs my neck.

I should say something.

But what? I guess a thank you might be less awkward than me standing here not breathing.

"We have eleven minutes before class starts," Conner says, eyes shifting to something behind me. "Ready for a crash course in Zachary's social hierarchy?"

"Um..." I huff out a laugh. Talk about conversational whiplash.

Not that I'm complaining.

"I owe you a warning," he reminds me.

"Yes, you do. And an apology. Who says something like that to the new girl right before they leave her all alone with a scary math professor?"

The smile returns. "I was supposed to warn you about Mari," he clarifies.

"Oh. So the warning is about Zachary's social hierarchy?"

He bobs his head and then swipes at the hair that's flopped onto his forehead. It doesn't comply.

"Okay. But just for the record, I'm not all that interested. I mean yeah, I'm curious—in a gossipy way—but it's not going to make a difference for me personally." 

"Sure it will. My dad says social connections are powerful." He spreads his arms out wide. "And here in lies the future captains of industry."

"What industry do you plan to captain?"

Conner drops his arms, shrugs. "Sadly, I'm lacking in motivation. What about you?"

I tell him about NASA and Susan Corolla from Zachary's alumni page. "I don't think she'll care how far I climb the popularity ladder."

"Maybe not," he says. "But it would be fun to see how far you can go."

* * *

It's not like I didn't notice Jasmine Pryce in Comparative Government yesterday afternoon. She's hard to miss: taller than average, long bleach-blond braids streaked with red henna, interesting fashion sense. Today she's wearing a screen print T-shirt with her Zachary plaid skirt. Her standard issue knee socks rise above army boots covered in magenta spray paint.

According to Conner, she's the other royal. Jasmine and Mari are arch-enemies and I should be thinking about whose side I will choose.

Jasmine's golden brown eyes fix on me as she clomps to her desk. Not sure how I missed the tiny silver ring in her left eyebrow, but right now, I'm definitely clued in to the fact that when Paige told me about Mari's ninth-grade crush on Conner, she neglected to mention that he chose artsy, gorgeous Jasmine.

"How long did you go out with her?" I ask him.

"A year. Ish."

"Which year?"

"Eleventh. We're still friends, though. You should try to talk to her after class."

Jasmine's full, petal pink top lip contorts into a barely noticeable sneer before her eyes cut away from mine. "I don't think so," I say. "I'm pretty sure I'd have to give you up before her royal highness would give me the time of day—and that's not going to happen. I choose you." 

Conner huffs a laugh and looks down. His eyes come back to mine but they don't stay there, and there's more color in his cheeks than usual.

Crap. I did not mean that the way it sounded.

"You and Paige," I add. So awkwardly. "And like I said, I'm not interested in social politics. I just want to focus on my grades and—"

"Go back to Virginia?" he asks, squinting now.

"Yes."

He nods, opens his folder and hands me a sheet of paper. It's the syllabus for English Literature. "You knew my schedule before I did," I say.

"We had four classes together before you showed Ambroise your brain." 

"I wish you were in my French class."

"Me hablan Espanol," he says.

The boy in front of him twists around in his seat. "No, Crow. You really don't."

A small female voice calls the class to order. I didn't see the teacher come in, but she's there now, standing behind the podium. And her voice is not the only part of her that's small.

Conner slides a piece of notebook paper on my desk that says: Close your mouth.

I do. He takes the paper back and writes: You've never seen a little person?

Not in person. I write this on the paper and hand it back to him. He scribbles on it and hangs it over the edge of his desk so I can read what he wrote: Aside from my mom—and I have to say that—Ms. Young is the coolest teacher at this school.

I nod my agreement. She's reading from Grendel. I can't say that I've ever been a fan of anything Medieval—least of all, big hulking dirty men who kill supernatural beasts with their bare hands—but I get so drawn in by her passion that I almost don't notice the new note Conner slides on my desk.

If Mari asks you to lunch today, you should go.

* * *

Both of Zachary's monarchs parlent le français. Jasmine speaks it so well, I text Conner to ask if she spends her summers in France. I'm only kidding, but I can't say I'm all that surprised when his answer comes back: Wii.

I type: Wii=video game system. Oui=Yes! But I don't get Conner's reply until after class because Madame Simon makes me put my phone in her Panier de Distractions.

Mari and I walk to trig together, bonding over the scariness factor of Professor Bernard. Fellow math geeks I recognize from yesterday's lunch-at-Mari's-house group hover around her like drone bees—and I realize now what was bothering me yesterday. Megan had a crew, a group of genuine friends that hung out together by choice. Mari has subjects. 

It's a little weird that Conner's being so insistent about me going to lunch with her. Is it really about the "fun" of seeing how far I can climb the popularity ladder or...

Oh, duh. I hook my purse on the back of my chair, smiling for the camera on the back wall—for Paige. Conner wants time alone with her and I totally respect that.

Mari sits beside me, same as yesterday, and I smile at her too. If Megan were here she would surely second Conner's advice—if for no other reason than her selfish desire for a full report on the luxuriousness of Mari's royal palace.

"I was late to first period this morning," says a deep—and yes, slightly accented voice.

Mère de merde.

Mr. Spectacular claims the chair on the other side of Mari. "I was waiting for you," he adds in case I didn't understand why this information should matter to me.

"I had to come in early this morning," I say, not an apology. We didn't have a plan.

"I'd walk you home but there's a swim team meeting today—unless of course..." Chase checks out my arms the way Mari did yesterday and his eyebrows twitch. I don't allow myself to analyze this expression. "Unless you want to wait for me," he finishes.

"I have to get home and walk the dog," I tell him. You know, the one that growls at you?

He concedes with a nod and the hottie half-smile. It doesn't take a mind reader to know the boy enjoys a challenge.

When he turns to the front of the room, I glance at Mari, hoping we'll share a Chase-Tinsley-equals-pain-in-the-ass moment, but she won't look at me. She doesn't look at me once the entire class and when the bell rings, she walks out the door with her little drones buzzing behind her.

I type a text for Conner: Mari+lunch =No Go. But I don't press send.

If I do, he'll feel obligated to ask me to have lunch with them and he's already got enough obstacles to deal with in the hooking-up-with-Paige department.

Besides, it's not like I need Conner to take care of me like Megan did—I'm not an anxiety-ridden kid anymore. I'll go to the cafeteria and befriend fast-talking girl.

I add, But you and Paige go ahead, to my text and press send. 

Conner's reply comes instantly: Paige=no show. Meet me in front of the mural.

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Author's Note: Look at you—still reading! ( And hopefully voting. ;) Thank you so much! ❤️

Just in case you're wondering what this chapter has to do with the World of Oz, I'm going to remind you that the inspiration for this story came from the Elton John song. =) 

So goodbye yellow brick road — Where the dogs of society howl

You can't plant me in your penthouse — I'm going back to my plow