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times when Rhonda and Gabe had walked past Lexi in the hallway, and he had frozen in place, enchanted by just the sight of her.
    It made Rhonda wonder if, in Gabe’s eyes, she would ever live up to being as good as Lexi had been for him. As of right now, it didn’t seem like it. Rhonda might be able to trick his mind into believing that she was the right one for him, but somewhere, deep inside his heart, he was always going to have feelings for Lexi. That was probably why he had been acting so mopey lately.
    Rhonda wondered what she could do to change that. And then it hit her. She knew what she had to do to make Gabe stop worrying so much about Lexi and start focusing on what really mattered: his relationship with Rhonda.
    She had to get him as far away from Lexi as she possibly could, at least long enough for him to realize that he had feelings for Rhonda instead.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
    Anna Lancefield paced back and forth in the Headmaster’s office at Huntington High, waiting for him to arrive. Even though she had been going to the school for a whole year now, she had never actually met the Headmaster, Chris Morton. When she’d applied to the school and ever since then, he had been off hunting down vampires of his own. It was surprising that Anna had managed to make an appointment with him now.
    While she waited, Anna stared at the Thomas Kinkade paintings that lined the ivory-painted walls. The paintings all featured his signature winter scenes, complete with powdery snow and lights that glowed from the cabins and cottages that were nestled between the pine trees.
    As hard as Anna tried not to look at the painting, as much as she tried to ignore them, the more she felt herself drawn to them. The fact that Thomas Kinkade’s beautiful artworks were featured in the Headmaster’s office probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference to any other student at Huntington High, but it mattered to Anna.
    Thomas Kinkade had been her mother’s favorite artist.
    Anna’s mom had loved the simplicity of Thomas Kinkade’s paintings, the fact that—unlike many other artists—there never seemed to be a dual meaning behind his artwork. What you see is what you get, her mom had always said.
    When her mother had been killed, Anna had taken down all of the Thomas Kinkade paintings that hung in their foyer. She’d stuffed in a box that she hoped would never see the light of day again. She’d even toyed with the idea of selling them in a yard sale or disposing of them in some other sort of way, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so.
    That was before Anna came to Huntington. It was long before she’d even heard of Huntington. The way in which she’d heard of the school was strange in and of itself.
    Anna had never believed in vampires before. When Anna’s mom had been killed—a gash to the throat, the police had said—Anna had thought it was the work of a sick, twisted serial killer who was obsessed with slitting women’s throats. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when the package had arrived on her front doorstep that she’d realized that vampires had been involved. Until the package had arrived, Anna hadn’t even known that vampires even existed . . .
    At that moment, the office door swung open and a dark-haired woman came into the room. She was tall—she loomed over Anna by a good foot—and a s she looked over at her, the woman cleared her throat. “Anna? Please have a seat.”
    As the woman sat down at the desk, Anna plopped down into the leather chair across from her. “Was Headmaster Morton unable to make it today?” Anna asked, surprised to see a woman standing in front of her instead of him.
    The woman laughed. “I am Chris Morton, Anna.”
    Anna held in the gasp that formed in the back of her throat. Chris Morton was a woman ? She hadn’t been expecting that. “I-I’m so sorry, Headmaster Morton. I didn’t realize—” she started to apologize.
    Chris Morton’s glossy lips