The First Bite Is the Deepest

PART 1

Chapter 1

With her slender frame, supple curves, and waves of autumn-red hair, Samantha Hayes did not consider herself beautiful.

She was proud of her body for what it could do, not what it looked like—and she definitely wasn’t one of those girls who wasted time worrying about makeup or clothes. Perhaps, Sam mused as she regarded her reflection in the mirror, it was because she’d been an outcast her whole life. Her smattering of freckles had singled her out for torment, and she couldn’t even contemplate her fiery hair without feeling a pang of old hurt.

‘Redheads have no souls!’

‘Redheads are dying out.’

The cruel taunts echoed in her ears. People couldn’t even agree on whether her hair was burnished auburn, molten copper, or the exact red of a maple leaf in peak foliage season. As if she didn’t have troubles enough, her height of five foot two made it virtually impossible to find clothes. No wonder she made jeans and muscle tees her standard uniform.

Now, of course, none of that mattered. Her last boyfriend and first true love, Ricardo, has been murdered by the hungering Chaos that had nearly swallowed their town. Now she and Thomas, her current boyfriend, had to drive across the country—to Trenton, New Jersey, of all places—to find the one person who could banish the Chaos back to the eldritch slime from whence it had come.

Sam loaded her crossbow, leveling it at the mirror.

Yeah, she thought. Just another day in the neighborhood.

A sudden noise made Stella Ortiz look up from her novel.

She paused, craning into the darkness beyond the scope of the gymnasium lights. She saw nothing.

After a few moments of sitting silently in front of the gym, alert to stray sounds, Stella figured she must’ve misheard. She might have been projecting—this was the newest book in the Samantha Hayes: Demon Hunter series, and the last one had had some pretty creepy imagery involving the hungering Chaos. In fact, one character had actually died while alone on a high school campus just like she was, consumed by the Chaos’ blighting path. Only a femur had been left behind.

Of course, that character had been sneaking onto school grounds to play a prank, and in a horror-movie sense deserved it. Stella was here for a very good reason: preseason.

Every year, Coach Mulvey made Bellingham High’s entire field hockey team regret being born. The long hours on the track and in the gym were cruel and unusual punishment after summers spent vacationing or interning in air-conditioned offices. By day two of full-field suicides and a hundred crunches followed by fifteen push-ups followed by fifty bicycle crunches, Stella already bitterly regretted frittering her summer away on a Youth Programs internship at the aquarium.

In fairness, tonight’s preseason scrimmage hadn’t been that bad. Established varsity players and new freshmen had been mixed into haphazard combinations; Andrea, a junior this year, had clearly not been thrilled to share the offensive line with less experienced girls, and Stella managed to ramp up her frustration by intercepting ninety percent of the passes she tried to make to the poor frosh playing left wing. Finally, Andrea snapped and tried to dribble around three people all by herself—only to be definitively shut down.

Thinking about it made her grin.

By now, though, everyone had gone home, and Stella was sitting in front of the gym waiting for her parents. She was just grateful she’d thought to bring a book with her. But for the moment, instead of glancing back down to read, she flicked her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her most recent texts:

8:35pm Can you come get me

8:42pm Yes 10 mins

8:58pm Mom …

9:02pm Sorry 15

9:02pm I can walk home

9:03pm DO NOT walk home alone, we will come get you.

The last one was from fifteen minutes ago, and they still weren’t here. Stella knew her dad had some architecture awards dinner, but it hadn’t been her decision to not get her a car, even if parking in Capitol Hill was murder. At this rate, she bet it would’ve been faster to call Austin and have him drive over from Ballard to pick her up. She was mildly tempted, actually; Austin would complain, but he’d probably do it, provided she bribed him with a snack or promises to vote his way the next time they had a movie night.

She sighed. Scrimmages were one thing, but tomorrow morning was the three-mile run Mulvey had been threatening them with since the start of the week. Stella’d known it was coming: It had come every year since she was fourteen. Why hadn’t she prepared better?

Of course, teaching little kids about tidal pools at the aquarium had been pretty fun, and her dad assured her it would look great on college apps. She could apply to places with really interesting bio departments, maybe even marine science. Assuming she survived preseason, she should make an appointment with the college counselor.

A breeze stirred her hair.

Stella huffed another sigh and glanced up at the near-full moon. She couldn’t tell whether it was waxing or waning, particularly not with the ragged wisps of cloud scudding across it and intermittently obscuring it from view. It was a pretty nice night, all things considered.

A bit cold for late August.

As Stella stared down at her phone, wondering whether she really should call Austin for a rescue, she heard that noise again.

It didn’t exactly sound like a footstep. It didn’t exactly sound like a cough. But it did—Stella thought—sound distinctly human. It had a human’s deliberateness, so as you listened, your mind filled in the shape that would have had to make it. Who’d be lurking around the school at this hour—a junkie, a homeless person, a vandal? Stella hesitated a moment, then slid her phone into her pocket and pulled out her field hockey stick.

Stella shifted her grip, holding the stick with its crook pointed up—upside-down from how she’d hold it in a game—and listened. After a moment, she heard that person-shaped sound. She peered across the darkened parking lot, then back towards the gym. The gym was technically a complex of a few buildings, separated by a narrow concrete path that ran towards the athletic fields. Trees surrounded both gym and fields, not thick but dense enough that you could almost forget Bellingham High School sat in the middle of a bustling-ish neck of Capitol Hill. If Stella had to guess, she’d say the sound was coming from somewhere down that central path—around the corner, maybe. She took a step forward.

Hello? she called.

She felt like an idiot. This was exactly the kind of shit she and her friends had spent most of high school making fun of dumb coeds in movies for doing.

Then again, dumb coeds didn’t usually start the movie carrying a big wooden stick.

Hello? she called again, louder.

No sound. No reply.

But now that the first sting of you’re-being-ridiculous had passed, Stella was secretly starting to feel kind of badass. A little like Samantha Hayes, kickass demon-hunter—something she would never have admitted to Austin and Jenny because of the brutal mockery that would’ve followed. Odds were, there was nobody here at all, and if there was, they were probably just some vandal and wouldn’t have a gun. Stella had superior firepower. Who was going to mess with h—

What have we here? purred a voice immediately behind her.

That is, the voice purred ‘what have,’ and ‘we here?’ was the probable end of the sentence.

But somewhere between ‘have’ and ‘we,’ Stella hauled around with her field hockey stick and clocked her would-be assailant on the side of the head. The impact made a loud crack; for the craziest second, Stella thought she could hear hissing.

The attacker reeled back, clutching his head and groaning. In the parking lot lights, Stella saw that he couldn’t be much older than she was herself. His face was pinched in pain, but there was an innocence, a clean beauty to it. And he had amazing hair, dark and lush; any professional model would’ve envied it.

I’m sorry! Stella exclaimed. Oh my God, I thought you were—hold on. Are you trying to mug me?

The boy looked up at her. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be bleeding or even bruised—surprising, given how loud the noise had been, but definitely a relief. Unless he was trying to mug her, in which case she could always hit him again.

Mug you? he repeated. His brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand the words. Maybe he had a concussion? No, the boy said, certainly not, I …

A dark-eyed glance took Stella in, baggy t-shirt and flip-flops and all. She realized with a stab of self-consciousness that not only had she just smacked the shit out of this gorgeous guy, but her legs were the special kind of sweaty-pale that only came from a day spent in shin guards and cleats.

I was in the neighborhood, the boy concluded, looking for a bite to eat.

Stella frowned.

Well, she said, adrenaline making her voice high-pitched and babbling, I’m—really, really sorry, about the misunderstanding, I just thought … are you okay?

She couldn’t exactly stretch out a hand to him in concern, since she was holding onto her field hockey stick. Still, she tried to sort of radiate empathy. The boy stood back, starting to walk what Stella thought at first was away, only to curve back around in a long, lopsided arc. Stella turned to keep up with him.

I’m fine, he answered, eyeing her warily.

So you’re … not gonna press charges or anything?

Stella saw a smile cross the boy’s pale face. It was small, but warm, crinkling the corners of his eyes just so.

I don’t believe that will be necessary.

Whatever Stella was going to say next, standing smelly and violent in front of the gym with the guy she’d just clobbered, completely went out of her head. Fortunately, she rallied.

I haven’t, uh, seen you around here before. Do you go here? A gesture with her stick indicated the gym and the shadowy academic buildings that lay beyond it.

The boy smiled faintly again, as if she’d just told a witty joke. I’ve enrolled here, yes. I’ll be starting next week as a senior.

Oh, Stella said, surprised. You transferred?

The boy gave an easy shrug, but his smile had faded. Stella realized that of the potential reasons to abruptly change high schools midway through, most weren’t necessarily cheerful. So many negative points for Team Ortiz this evening.

My last school was … not a good fit, he answered after a moment, looking past her to the chilly moon. I don’t want to bore you with the details.

Which Stella read loud and clear as I don’t want to talk about the details. She nodded.

Well … I hope you like it better here, she said. It occurred to her she still hadn’t lowered her stick. I’m Stella—Estela Ortiz. I’m a senior too, and I’m seriously, really really sorry.

Think nothing of it. You’re not an easy target. He smiled. When the silence was nearly uncomfortable, he added, My name is Sebastian Weber. The gorgeous boy, now apparently Sebastian, canted his head ever-so-slightly to one side. That’s a beautiful name. Estela. It means ‘star,’ doesn’t it?

Oh, Stella frowned, uh—

Before she could correct him, a sweep of headlights interrupted. Correspondingly, her phone began to ring.

Hold on, Stella said, cradling her stick in one arm to pick up her phone. Mom?

Stella, we’re here.

Yeah, I can see you. She hurried to scoop up her duffel bag while Sebastian looked on in bemusement. Sometimes she slung her bag over her stick and carried it like a boxcar-hopping Depression-era runaway, but in front of a hot new kid was not the time. After a little shuffling, she decided to just hang up her phone and grab the bag with her newly freed hand.

It was really nice to meet you, Sebastian, she said, even with … you know. I guess I’ll see you next week, I hope we have some classes together.

Sebastian inclined his head in a nod. Indeed.

You guys are so late, Stella complained to her parents as she tumbled into the backseat.

Her mother craned around in her seat specifically for the purpose of raising her eyebrows, revealing the sparkly earrings and makeup she’d donned for the dinner.

In the driver’s seat, her father said pleasantly, It’s nice to see you too, eldest daughter.

I’m your only daughter, Stella pointed out.

Who was that you were talking to? her mother asked.

Oh. Just a new kid. He’s gonna be a senior this year.

What was he doing out here at this hour?

I don’t know, waiting for his parents to pick him up? But Stella just shrugged.

I think he was looking for someplace to grab food.

Her mother frowned. It’s not really safe to wander around alone at night. There’ve been a lot of assaults lately.

Stella’s eyebrows arched incredulously. Why didn’t you tell me that before I stood outside by myself for two hours?

It wasn’t two hours, her dad scoffed. Forty-five minutes max.

Still not good!

You were perfectly fine at school, said Stella’s mother. Just—not wandering all over the Hill by yourself.

Stella decided not to mention how she’d smacked the new kid with her stick because she’d thought he might be a mugger. The moral of that story was that she could take care of herself.

Safely ensconced in her bedroom, Stella relayed the whole story to Jenny, who reacted … more or less as expected.

Oh my God! On Stella’s computer screen, her friend’s low-res expression was somewhere between scandal and glee. His head? I bet you gave him a concussion!

Jennifer Monaghan-Park was the daughter of a surgeon, and over the years she’d picked up a number of medical facts and tidbits that she creepily applied anywhere she could.

He seemed fine, Stella protested.

Were his pupils dilated?

No. Stella had no idea.

Did he seem confused or like he was having issues with his speech patterns?

Um. Stella frowned. No … but I guess his speech patterns were slightly weird.

Jenny perked up. Weird like how?

I don’t know, like, kind of old-timey? He said ‘indeed.’

Jenny squinted at her monitor. Was he wearing a fedora?

Stella snickered. That’s not one of the medical signs of a concussion, right?

Hardy har har. Jenny stuck out her tongue. You know what I mean.

A bit more seriously, Stella shook her head. No, he definitely wasn’t a jerk, like … if anything, he was really cool about getting hit over the head. Is that a sign of a concussion?

Jenny wrinkled her nose. The gesture made her look totally adorable, but since Jenny hated few things more than being called ‘cute’ (especially now that she had reached the venerable age of seventeen and was unlikely to grow past her current height of 5’1"), Stella refrained from comment.

I don’t know, Jenny hedged. Mood changes are a thing, but I think they usually make people confused and irritable, not cool about being clobbered. She paused. Did you tell your parents?

Uh, no, Stella said. I can’t risk them deciding I can’t be trusted with a stick right in the middle of college app season.

Jenny brightened. Oh, hey—did I tell you I already got an email from the drama department? Apparently since Joseph graduated, I’m the only student in the program who knows how to use the sound board. They want me to do a workshop.

That’s great, Stella enthused. She kind of wanted to stay on the subject of the mysterious Sebastian Weber, since she hadn’t even fully described his hair yet, but it’d be rude to backtrack now. Did you decide on a list yet?

Well, I had most of it last spring, Jenny said. There aren’t that many schools with theatre arts programs that’re where I want them. She chewed her lip absently. I’m kind of worried though, because Austin and I spent most of the summer basically doing nothing …

Stella knew Jenny had also spent two weeks this summer visiting her dad in San Francisco, which had precluded any possibility of internships during the month of June, but Jenny seemed to prefer not talking about that. Honestly, Stella didn’t think Jenny needed to worry: Their friend group had met freshman year in BHS’s drama department, and while Stella had decided she liked field hockey more than set design and Austin decided he liked reading for fun more than memorizing lines, Jenny and Nadia had stayed involved in the program. Nadia fell in love with costuming, while Jenny bounced around between sets, props, lighting design, and sound. Over the years, the four of them had taken the occasional drama class together, but Jenny and Nadia were by far the most into it. When it came to impressive extracurriculars, they pretty much had it nailed.

Don’t worry about it, Stella counseled, shaking her head at Jenny’s image on her laptop screen. You have years of production credits, volunteering at the fringe festival, not to mention you go to BHS and get good grades. You’re gonna be fine.

Maybe if Nadia writes my essay for me …

Mm, well, that probably won’t happen, Stella admitted. She’s too honest.

Damn her.

They kept chatting for a little while, until Stella reluctantly said, Okay, I gotta be on the field at eight. I should sleep.

I have to meet Austin for frozen yogurt at noon, Jenny said sympathetically. At Stella’s glower, she said, Sleep tight!

Stella flopped back onto her bed in her (fresh, obviously) shorts and t-shirt, but sleep didn’t come as quickly as she would’ve liked.

She was preoccupied by thoughts of dark eyes, glittering in a face as pale as the moon.

Chapter 2

By senior year, Stella and her friends had stopped being surprised by how quickly everything new and different became the same old, same old. Even reuniting at school didn’t provide much drama, since they’d all hung out over the weekend—although Stella had provided interesting inside information about a new kid in their class.

Including the fact that she’d assaulted him.

Well I thought he was a mugger, she said again as she, Nadia, and Jenny made their way down the hall towards the senior lockers.

Jenny was shaping her mouth for a reply, when Marnie Burnham cut her off with a cry of, Oh my God!

Hi Marnie, Jenny replied without enthusiasm, as Marnie bounded up to them with her stylishly tousled haircut and little fluttery hippie dress.

Go class of 2014! Marnie exclaimed. You guys look adorable! Her expression pressed into a concerned moue. Nadia … aren’t you hot though?

Nadia glanced down at her carefully selected first-day-of-school outfit: cropped sweatshirt, high-waisted harem pants, floral print sneakers. Her headscarf was a very pretty mint green one that her parents had gotten her as a good-luck gift for the start of the school year.

She glanced back up to Marnie, suppressing a sigh.

For reasons that none of them had really bothered to sound out, Marnie could not let Nadia’s outfits go. Aren’t you hot and I’d just feel so restricted and isn’t it great that nowadays we don’t have to be ashamed of our bodies. She’d been at it since Nadia had started covering in ninth grade, and while Nadia could have easily gone the year without hearing another unsolicited comment, that didn’t appear to be in the cards.

I’m great, she replied politely. Thank you.

I knew she was gonna do it, Jenny muttered, as Marnie tripped away. I knew she couldn’t not say something …

Nadia shrugged. I didn’t really think … She sighed. I mean, it’s a crop top.

Stella shook her head. You look hot. Marnie’s an idiot.

Are we playing a game where we all say things we know? The flat voice came from off to the side of them, and not-insignificantly above them. Because I’m tall.

Nadia smiled. Hello, Austin.

Hey, Austin nodded. Austin stood just shy of six feet tall, with broad shoulders that would’ve made him perfect for the swim team or for football had he ever shown even the slightest interest in either. (Tragically for the dance teachers, he’d also vetoed ballet, jazz, and modern.) On this first day of school, he had on his omnipresent jeans and an X-Men t-shirt, which Nadia remembered had been exactingly sourced to ensure vintage authenticity.

Austin fell easily into step with them. So did you run into concussion guy yet?

We can’t call him concussion guy, Stella protested, squinting up at Austin. Refreshingly bright sunshine streamed in through every window, a welcome break after weeks of late-summer drizzle and clouds, but it did create a bit of a glare.

Not yet, anyway, Jenny agreed. "But we also can’t rule out that he’s concussion guy for a few days. Maybe weeks."

They turned the corner onto the senior lockers. All the halls were bustling this morning, and this one was no exception, but in a school of 450 students, only so much bustling was possible.

Nadia saw Stella glancing around, craning her neck past hugging and gossiping friend groups.

I don’t see him, she said after a moment, frowning.

He could be late, Nadia suggested.

Or concussed, Jenny murmured.

Oh great, Stella exclaimed. Okay, well, I’m gonna go put down my stuff. I’ll see you guys in class.

Compared to preseason, starting classes again was a cakewalk. At least now there were only two hours out of the day when Mulvey owned Stella’s life—except game days, that is, and there wasn’t a game until the end of next week. Stella’s first meeting with the college counselor had gone well, and the warm, sunny weather had kept up miraculously, meaning that when she staggered off the field and Jenny and Nadia got out of theatre department informational sessions and Austin wandered out of … wherever he went after school, the library? There was still ample daylight to grab ice cream or do some homework at the bookstore before they had to head home.

Sebastian Weber failed to appear all week.

Is this guy even real? Austin asked, as they took their places at their usual lunch table.

Of course he’s real, Stella said. Why would I make something like that up?

Jenny chewed speculatively on her sandwich.

"Maybe you have the concussion, she said, and he was like a hallucination brought on by all those broody hero guys you like."

Stella narrowed her eyes. Thanks for the analysis, doctor.

Jenny stuck a carrot stick in her mouth and crunched it loudly in Stella’s direction.

Okay, Austin said flatly, I didn’t mean like was he literally real. Maybe he was prowling or some shit and he just pretended he was going to enroll here to distract you from the fact that he showed up to bust windows.

I don’t know, Stella demurred.

She had no good reason to refute this theory. She really didn’t think the boy she’d met had been the type to run around committing acts of vandalism, and she was the only one of them who’d actually met him, but she’d also only met him once. Still, she let it go, and the conversation turned to upcoming auditions for the fall musical.

(Pippin! Jenny exclaimed. I have so many ideas for the set!

They’re not gonna go for live fire, Austin augured.)

Still, there was one thing Stella could figure out. Before practice, she stopped by the head of school’s office to talk to the admin lady, Ms. Horowitz.

Hi, Stella, Ms. Horowitz greeted, in her usual tone of brisk and indefatigable cheer. How’s the first week been treating you?

Oh—it’s good. Technically my second, with preseason and everything.

Ms. Horowitz nodded pleasantly.

Uh, so I had a question, Stella said. Was there a new kid who was going to join our class? Sebastian Weber?

The administrator frowned at her curiously.

Yes, in fact, she said. You know Sebastian?

We met last week on campus.

Ahh. Ms. Horowitz nodded again. Yes, Sebastian Weber’s a new student, but he’s been out sick this week. Poor thing.

Sick with a concussion? Stella barely kept herself from asking. That was definitely going to lead to too many questions.

Okay, she said with a nod. Uh, thanks.

Now the question was whether to tell the others. On the one hand: solid proof that her mystery guy existed and really went to school here. On the other hand: high probability that she’d get additional grief for being a concussive menace.

In the end, Stella decided to head to field hockey practice without saying anything.

That Friday night, everyone abandoned her.

Stella’s parents wanted to go out on a real date, and their regular babysitter was unavailable, so Stella got stuck watching her little brother Jaime. Nadia and Austin had made a commitment to babysit the Archer twins, Jenny’s mom had the night off and had bribed Jenny with promises of fancy dessert, and now it was just Stella and her three-year-old brother. There were only so many times a person could watch Caillou without wanting to throw something.

Still, the gang was gonna do their weekly movie night on Saturday. If Stella powered through enough of her homework tonight, she could basically spend the rest of the weekend in a state of lazy bliss.

If.

Stella, Jaime said querulously. Stella glanced away from her laptop screen to her little brother’s grubby upturned face, with its halo of cherubic curls—a deadly combo that ensured he got what he wanted from every grownup ever at least 90% of the time. And Stella was almost a grownup.

What is it? she asked.

Jaime stared up at her, lower lip trembling. Train.

Stella glanced to the TV, which was still playing Caillou’s totally boring animated adventures.

The train show isn’t on right now, JJ.

My train, Jaime protested. "Afuera."

You left your train outside? Stella said, her eyebrows arching. Jaime nodded, taking her hand in his tiny one and tugging her in the direction of the door. Stella sighed. It figured he’d remember the freaking thing now, way after dark and just before his bedtime.

I’ll get it, she said, gently extricating her hand. "Quédate aquí, okay?"

It took some doing to get Jaime to actually stay (and Stella knew he knew what she’d said: her mother kept her updated on all his bilingual triumphs), but an episode of The Berenstain Bears finally came on and distracted him. Stella slipped into her flip-flops and sidled out the front door.

Cool evening had settled