Forbidden Read Free Page A

heart racing again. Focus , Alec reprimanded himself. Stop acting like an idiot . They all got their English books and moved on to the history table. “So,” Alec asked in a deliberately casual tone, even though he was well aware of the answer, “how does this rotating schedule work again?”
    Claire glanced at him with raised eyebrows, as if surprised to find him capable of coherent speech. “There are seven tracks, A through G—six classes per day except Fridays, when we get out at one thirty instead of having a lunch break.”
    “It sounds confusing, but I swear it’s not—every morning they post which track you begin with,” Erica chimed in. “It’s a cool system because it means you never have a class at the same time every day. So you won’t always have a post-lunch food coma during French, or be half-asleep in early-morning pre-calc.”
    Alec pulled out his cell phone and started typing, as if this information was new to him.
    “Careful with that come Monday, dude,” Brian cautioned. “Cell phones are banned on campus during school hours.”
    Before he could reply, Alec suddenly found himself at the front of the line. Shoving his phone in his pocket, he glanced at the history teacher’s name on his schedule. “Mr … Patterson?”
    A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late thirties turned in Alec’s direction. Despite his handsome features, the man projected irritation and condescension. Without looking up from his list, he barked, “Name?”
    “Alec MacKenzie.”
    Checking his name off with a pencil, the teacher motioned toward one of the stacks of thick hardcover texts on the table. “Take a book. Only one. Move along.”
    “As if we’d want more than one,” Claire whispered behind him.
    Alec couldn’t help but smile.
    After the others got their history books and they moved off together, Brian muttered, “God, what an ass. I heard Patterson actually locks the door to his classroom the minute the bell rings.”
    “ I’ve heard he gives lots of pop quizzes,” Erica added. “He might make even your life a living hell, Claire.”
    “Fantastic.” Claire frowned.
    Suddenly, two arms clapped around Erica’s and Brian’s shoulders. “Hey, you two. How’s it going?”
    At the sight of the tall, lanky, good-looking guy standing behind Erica and Brian, Claire’s eyes lit up. Alec turned to examine the object of her interest. He had golden-brown eyes and dark, wavy hair, and seemed like the easygoing type who claimed not to care about primping but always looked great anyway.
    Erica gave the newcomer a big hug. “God, Neil, I think you grew another six inches over the summer!”
    “Three, actually. Did you hear? Mr. Lang wants us to sing the Messiah this Christmas.”
    Brian and Erica gasped. They immediately launched into shoptalk about choir with the new guy and ignored Alec and Claire completely. Alec noticed Claire’s gaze lingering on Neil’s face. For the first time since he’d met her she seemed nervous, as if she was secretly, desperately wishing that Neil would look in her direction.
    Alec turned to Claire, searching for something appropriate to say, seized by a need to capture her attention. “I take it those three are all in choir together?”
    “Not choir—that’s a different class. They’re in Concert Singers, the elite choral group. It’s Brian’s pride and joy—and his only other honors class.”
    “An honors class that you’re not in?”
    To Alec’s dismay, Claire visibly winced, as if the question stung a little.
    “Sorry,” he added quickly. “That was an attempt at humor that clearly failed.”
    “It’s okay—I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Really. It’s just that I’d give anything to be able to sing well enough to get into Concert Singers.”
    Right . Alec frowned, irritation prickling through him. Because it would give her a chance to spend time with Neil—who was now cluelessly saying good-bye to his friends, without a word for her. What is this