Covet (Clann)

him this morning if I could help it.
    As the crowd parted for me, I caught bits of thoughts that stuck out from the jumble, several of them directed at me.
    Is that a Coach bag?
    Are those Jimmy Choos? No, they can’t be. Everyone knows she’s too poor to afford those. They’re probably knockoffs.
    How can she afford that? Oh, I know, it’s her dad. He’s probably a drug dealer. Or maybe he’s in the mafia or something. Too bad they spent all their money on clothes instead of that run-down shack they’re living in now.
    Part of me wanted to run through the hall and escape as fast as I could. Dad was half right. Everyone was looking at my clothing instead of me. But it obviously hadn’t changed how people thought of me.
    Somehow I resisted the urge to use my vamp speed and just blow through the crowd. Control. It was all about self-control. I forced my legs to move human slow, then slower, casually strolling into class just before the tardy bell rang.
    I had been looking forward to this class. English was my best subject in school. But when I walked into the room and saw everyone still standing around holding their books, I let out a long sigh.
    There was only one reason that my classmates wouldn’t be seated already. The teacher must be getting ready to assign seats alphabetically.
    I glanced around the room and locked gazes with Tristan. Everything inside me froze.
    In that second, I knew just how wrong I had been to hope that my feelings for him had faded over the summer. Seeing him was like a physical blow as all the memories of our months together came crashing back over me, robbing me of breath and forcing me to acknowledge just how much I had missed seeing that face.
    I still loved him as much as ever, if not more.
    But now he was with Bethany.
    And I would be stuck sitting near him again. With our last names of Coleman and Colbert and alphabetical seating, it was inevitable. For the first time, I found myself actually wishing the Clann’s control really did reach all the way to the JHS computerized class scheduling system so I wouldn’t have to share another class with him.
    I tried to look away, really I did. I knew I was the one who had broken up with him and that it was flat-out rude to be staring at him now. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself, even as the raw hurt in his eyes seemed to burn through me.
    The teacher, Mrs. Knowles, pointed at the front-row desk closest to the door, said a name, and someone sat down in it. She repeated the process with the desk beside it. Apparently she was going to assign seats horizontally like Mr. Smythe liked to do with all of his history classes, instead of in vertical rows. Which meant this year Tristan would end up beside me instead of behind me. Great. I wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing him out of the corner of my eye.
    Maybe I should start wearing my hair down instead of in its usual ponytail, to block the view.
    I tried to pay attention to Mrs. Knowles, but I couldn’t hear her over the rising roar of thoughts from my classmates driving into my head like an iPod turned up full blast.
    She moved on, pointing to the third desk in the front row. Tristan moved to sit there, and at last I was freed from his gaze. But that didn’t lessen the volume of chaotic voices inside my head, or my racing pulse.
    I couldn’t do this. I could not make it through yet another year of being so close to Tristan every other day. Every time I came to this class, I would have to sit just inches away from him for a whole hour and a half. I’d managed to make it through the final few weeks of torture last year. But then I’d had a whole summer away from him. And though I’d missed him, it had also been a relief from the physical ache of being around him.
    I didn’t want to have to fight that battle yet again. Not this year. Not after all that we’d been through, the memories we’d made together, falling in love with him…
    And the bloodlust.
    Mrs. Knowles’ helmet-shaped hair filled my vision. I blinked, looked around. Everyone was seated now, with only one desk left open. The second desk in the front row…beside Tristan.
    Mrs. Knowles was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear her. I tried to read her lips and thought she was probably telling me to take my seat.
    Since I had no way of telling how loud I actually was over the noise in my head, I tried whispering, “Um, couldn’t we please choose our own seats?”
    She frowned, her entire face pinching as if