As Professor Smith droned on about economic theories, my attention drified to a figure sitting in the far corner.

Dark hair, pale skin, angr features. Something about him nagged at my memory. I studied him bmore /bclosely, realizing that he was the same guy I’d glimpsed at the traffic light–and bagain /bnear campus the night before.

The guy behind me leaned forward, his bvoice /bdropping to a whisper. “He’s new.

I didn’t turn around, keeping my eyes fixed on the stranger.

“Transferred in the day after you took your leave,” the boy continuedb, /bapparently emboldened by my non–rejection. bEver /bsince I’d demolished Randview’s basketball team, the male poption at Princeton had bdeveloped /ba weird reverence for me.

“His name’s Ss Murphy, Computer science major. Already being called the new department heartthrob. The guy behind me sounded almost jealous.

I remained silent, observing Ss’s methodical noteb–/btaking, the precise way he organized his desk. Something in his movements seemed calcted, efficient.

Before I could analyze further, Professor Smith’s lecture was interrupted by a teaching assistant who handed him a note. Professor Smith nced at it, then looked up.

“Mr. Murphy? Student Services needs to see byou/b.”

efficiency, slipping out the back bdoor /b

Ss packed his things with the same methodical precision I’d noticed earlier. He moved with quiet ef without drawing attention.

I waited three minutes before raising my hand. Professor, may I be excused? I need to speak with Student Services assignments.”

about my missed

Five minutester, I was leaning against the bwall /boutside the Student Advisor’s boffice/bb, /bscrolling through my phone. The door opened, and Ss emerged, tucking what looked like a check into his wallet.

He looked up, bhis /bbdark /beyes meeting mine. For a split second, something flickered bacross /bhis face–recognition? Wariness? It was gone

bpast /bwithout a word. before I could identify it. He gave me a bcold/b, dismissive nce and walked

I watched him disappear down the hallway before knocking on Philip Thornton’s door.

“Well, well, well,” Philip eximed, looking up from his desk with a wide smile. “The prodigal student returns! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your old friend Philipb./b”

The university president’s office wasfortably cluttered, with books stacked on every surface band /bacademic journals marked with colorful sticky notes.

“Just been busy,” I replied, taking the offered seat across from him.

“Busy breaking basketball records, from what I hear.” He chuckled, pouring coffee into a ceramic mug with Princeton” emzoned on it.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“ck is fine.”

He pushed the mug toward me. So, what brings you to my humble office? Surely not just to check on an old man?”

I took a sip of coffee. I want to see Ss M

Murphy’s file.”

Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “Student records are confidential, Miss Morgan. You know that.”

I met his gaze steadily. “You owe me.”

bHe /bsighed, the memory of my saving his life hanging unspoken between us. “Fine. But this stays between us.”

Philip retrieved a folder from his filing cab and spread it open on his bdesk/b.

“What’s his story?” I asked, scanning the documents.

Philip’s expression softened. “A tough one. Mother with a serious illness, father with a drinking problem. Been taking care of his mother since he bwas /btwelve, working odd jobs since middle school.”

I flipped through the pages, noting Ss’s impressive SAT scores and academic achievements despite his circumstances.

“Got epted to MIT two years ago, full ride, Philip continued, “but had to decline. His mother’s condition worsened, and he couldn’t bleave /bher. Took a job at ban /bauto brepair /bshop insteadb. /bI brought her to Walter for a consultation, but Walter bsaid /bshe only had a few years

left.”

“So how did he end up

here?”

“I pulled some strings, offered him ate admission and a special schrship. expenses.”

He

le works in the cafeteria and library to cover additional

I studied Ss’s photo more carefully. The resemnce was striking–the same hollow cheekbones, the same watchful beyes /bas someone I’d known in my previous life. Someone called Dusk.

“Why the interest?” Philip asked, eyeing me curiously.

“He looks familiar,” I replied vaguely.

Philip studied me for a moment. “Perhaps you should introduce yourself. He doesn’t btalk /bmuch–reminds me a bit of your brother, actually You might get along.”

I snorted. “Do I look like I’m in the business of making friends?”

“Well,” Philip chuckled, “you did save my life. I’d call that a rather friendly act

I didn’t answer, closing the file and sliding it back across the desk,

The cafeteria buzzed with lunchtime activity as I joined the line at Ss’s service window. Whispers erupted around

“Is that Jade Morgan?”

“What’s she doing in the cafeteria?”

“She never eats here…”

“Oh my god, she’s totally here for the new guy…”

I ignored them, moving forward in bline/b.

“Jade!” C

Chase Astor’s bvoice /bboomed behind me as he squeezed past other students to stand directly behind me. “Mind if I join you?”

“You re already here,” I observed dryly.

He grinned, then winced as he shifted his weight. “By the way, what kind of dog did you get? The one I saw at your apartment?”

“A Doberman.b” /b

“You should get rid of it. Those things bite. bMine’s /bgot a nasty bump from where it lunged at me.” He gestured to his forehead, where impressive bruise was forming. “I barely got away.”

“You ran from my dog?” I asked, braising /ban eyebrow

“And fell,” he badmitted /bsheepishly. “But still, dangerous animals shouldn’t be pets, even with vines.”

I reached the counter where Ss stood, his expression nk. “Sweet and bsour /bchicken, bplease/b,” I bsaid/b.

He served the food mechanically, not meeting my eyes.

“I’ll have the same,” Chase said behind me.

“Last portion,” Ss replied tly, nodding toward my tray,

“Come on, man, make more, Chase insisted.

“Kitchen’s out. Choose something else.” Ss’s voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. Unlike Max, whose quietness came from shyness, Ss seemed emptied out by hardship. There was ba /bdeadness in his eyes.

Chase made ban /bannoyed sound, his expression darkening. “Seriously? You can’t just make more?”

b“/bbTake /bmine,” I offered, turning to Chase.

“No, it’s fine,” Chase backed down, pointing at another option. “I’ll bhave /bthis.”

Badass in Disguise