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  But I’m not going to go back into the hole of depression that I was in for the first couple months after he died. I’m going to enjoy every second that life gives me. I will miss him, but I have to keep moving on. That is what Eduard would have wanted.

  His death changed me, but I like the new me. My only wish is that Eduard could see the girl that I’ve become. I think he’d be proud.

  “So when are we going on this date?” I ask him.

  “Well, homecoming is this week,” he says.

  “Weekend,” I correct.

  “Well, it kind of lasts all week. It’s spirit week,” he says.

  “Oh, right,” I say. “Savannah said something about how there should be a Star Wars day. But yeah, I was wondering about pajama day. Who wants to wear their pajamas all day?”

  He looks at me, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m joking.

  “Katerina, you are one weird girl,” he says.

  “Well, you asked me out. What does that say about you?”

  He grins. “It says that I like weird, but pretty, girls with Russian accents.”

  “Still, I don’t understand. Why would you guys want people to see you in your pajamas?” I ask. “I would be embarrassed.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “Well, I wear sweat pants to bed. I would never, ever wear them in public.”

  “You know the school banned sweat pants, besides on pajama day, because the girls would wear them all the time,” he says. “No leggings, sweat pants or yoga pants allowed during school hours. Ever.”

  “I wish they’d ban skinny jeans,” I say.

  He laughs. “You and me both. If they did that, half of the student body would have to go buy pants because I doubt they own anything else.”

  “Savannah included,” I say, thinking I haven’t seen her wear anything else.

  “So, you won’t participate in pajama day?” he asks. “I mean, you don’t have to participate in anything, but it’s fun.”

  “What are the other days?” I ask.

  “I can’t remember. But I know there is 80’s day. We have to dress up like they did in the 80’s,” he says.

  I try to remember American fashion in the 80’s, but I have no clue. “I guess I will participate for everyday except pajama day. I don’t care if everybody else wears their pajamas, there is no way I’d do that.”

  “I guess our date will have to wait until after homecoming,” he says. “Don’t make plans for the weekend after homecoming. I want to take you out on a proper date.”

  “And what does a proper date entail?” I ask.

  “You’ll see.”

  I can’t wait.

  Damon Hartley has managed to steal my heart.

  Too bad my dad wants to kill him.

  THREE

  Nerdy Monday.

  I actually Googled “how to dress like a nerd.”

  The first thing I found is that you need fake glasses. I was going to skip that step, but not so surprisingly, Savannah told me she had an extra pair that I could borrow. She gave me the purple ones and she is using some neon yellow ones.

  I also wear a high wasted purple, plaid skirt, I tuck in my plain white t-shirt and put on a pair of suspenders. I wear knee high argyle socks with my converse.

  “Is this nerdy enough?” I ask Savannah.

  “How do you look cute, even as a nerd. So not fair,” she says. “Maybe put your hair in two pigtails. Then you’ll be set.”

  “Okay,” I say, then quickly fix my hair. I’m not sure I like it like this, but it’s just for one day.

  Marcus, my bodyguard who thankfully doesn’t snore, says I totally look like a nerd.

  And he said it just like that too.

  “You totally look nerdy.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “I have a niece who is thirteen,” he says, like that makes the fact that he used the word “totally” less weird.

  Tristan was quiet on our run this morning. I think something is bothering him, but he’s not saying what. I just hope that he’s not keeping information from me—maybe information about my father or Kazimir.

  Or Dimitri. What if he found out Dimitri decided to join my dad’s ranks? I mean, he was pretty sure he’s going to, but I’m hoping he won’t. Maybe Tristan knows his decision and doesn’t want to tell me because he knows it will hurt me if Dimitri decided to join in.

  When I walk into the dining hall for breakfast, Damon walks up to me.

  “Wow. You’re hot even as a nerd,” he says.

  Damon isn’t dressed up like a nerd.

  “Why aren’t you participating?” I ask.

  “I didn’t have anything to wear,” he answers.

  “I’m sure there is a mall somewhere close by.”

  “Yeah, I hate shopping. People are always staring and taking pictures,” he says. “I try to avoid going out in public as much as I can. That’s why I like spending so much time abroad. I don’t get recognized nearly as often when I’m in another country.”

  “Oh, right. I almost forgot. President’s son,” I say. “I can’t imagine being famous. It must suck.”

  “Trust me, I don’t want to be. But my dad never asked my opinion when he ran for office,” he says. “Is it bad that I didn’t want my dad to win the election? If I would’ve been old enough to vote, I would’ve voted against him.”

  “That’s so mean,” I say.

  He doesn’t respond. He just shrugs.

  We get our food and then head to the table. Savannah, Kaiden and Madox aren’t in the cafeteria yet, so we sit at the table alone. All six of Damon’s bodyguards stand close by.

  “They have a very boring job,” I say, nodding to the group.

  “Yep,” he says. “I figure my dad must pay them a lot. Four of the six have kids that they hardly ever get to see because they’re here with me.”

  “Your dad loves you. He’s trying to protect you.”

  He snorts. “My dad doesn’t even know me.”

  “What do you think your dad would say if he knew you were friends with me? You know, since it’s my dad who wants you dead,” I say.

  He frowns. “I haven’t even met your parents yet and they already hate me.”

  “My mom won’t hate you,” I tell him. “I don’t know if you’ll get to meet them for a while. Well, probably never my dad. But the rest of my family. I wish my family was normal. I wish that you could come to Russia with me and meet them.”

  “Me too,” he says.

  “I don’t even get to go home alone for Christmas.”

  “Good,” he says. “Is Tristan going with you?”

  I nod. “Apparently I have to pretend that he’s my boyfriend. It’s going to be so awkward.”

  “Why does he have to pretend to be your boyfriend?” he asks, looking a little pale at the idea.

  “Because I can’t exactly be like, ‘Hey, Dad. This is Tristan. He’s my bodyguard, making sure you don’t go psycho and kill me.’ So, it’s the only option, really,” I say. “I wish there was another way.”

  “I do too,” Damon says, now frowning.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I just don’t like the idea of Tristan going home with you pretending to be your boyfriend.”

  “I’m not into Tristan,” I tell him, grabbing his hand. “I’m into you. And only you.”

  “Why? I mean, Tristan is all… you know… muscly. And older,” he says. “You guys spend a lot of time together. How could you not like him? And his dad isn’t the president, so you can go places with him and not be stared at.”

  “Tristan spends time with me because it’s his job,” I say. “He’s getting paid. And I’m sure he’s annoyed to be spending so much time with a sixteen year old girl. He’s more like a brother to me.”

  Except I don’t find my brother attractive.

  But finding him attractive doesn’t mean anything.

  “I’m sorry,” Damon says. “I’m just jealous.”


  “Maybe you just need to spend more time with me then,” I say, feeling weird for doing so. I’m so not good at this whole flirting thing.

  He smiles big at my comment. “I would be very okay with that.”

  “Ugh, get a room,” I hear Tristan say, right before he sits down beside me.

  “Do you see what I have to put up with?” I ask Damon.

  “You just have one. I have six. So no complaining,” he says.

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  I can’t help but think that Damon and I made a positive step forward today. I like that he’s jealous, even though he has no reason to be.

  Curious.

  That night, while I’m hanging out in the student lounge with Savannah, Kaiden, Madox and Damon, I spot Jade Bello. She’s sitting in a corner by herself, reading a book. I haven’t tried to talk to her since I found out she’s my cousin.

  “Guys, I’ll be right back,” I say to them, and get up.

  I walk over to her. She doesn’t notice that anybody has walked up. The room is full of people, all talking loudly, but she’s focused on her book. I wonder if she even hears the noise at all.

  “Jade,” I say.

  She jumps a little and looks up at me. Her face is a little red. “Sorry. Scary scene.”

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I say.

  “It’s okay,” she says, pushing her dark framed glasses up her nose.

  “So, we’re cousins.”

  “Yeah.” She bites her lip, waiting for me to continue.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know. My mum never talks about your mum,” I say. “I didn’t even know I had a cousin.”

  “Yeah. They had a falling out. They only started talking again over the summer. After my mom heard about…” her voice cuts off. “Well, your brother dying, she got ahold of her. They’ve talked almost everyday since. My mom is hoping she’ll come visit in America soon.”

  My mum didn’t tell me that.

  “Your eyes are the same color as mine,” I tell her.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Everybody always tells me my eyes are freaky—because they’re such a light color of blue. They look better on you since you have blonde hair. They look paler with my dark hair.”

  “Don’t worry. People get nicer when you get older,” I say, remembering what it was like to be a freshman. “And I think your eyes are beautiful with your hair.”

  “Thanks,” she says, grinning big at the compliment.

  “Do I have any more cousins?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. Neither do I. I mean, besides you and your brothers. My dad bailed before I was born. I never even met him. So maybe I have some cousins on his side, but I suppose I’ll never know.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. I wonder what is worse—knowing your father is a liar, or never knowing him.

  “It’s okay,” she says. “My mom is awesome. She’s all I need.”

  I can tell what she said is well rehearsed. But it’s not the truth.

  “There is nothing wrong with being curious,” I tell her. “About your dad I mean.”

  She looks down at her hands. “I don’t want to hurt my mom.”

  “Okay. If you ever want to talk about things, let me know. I know a guy who can help you find your dad and your mom would never have to know,” I say, thinking of Tristan.

  “Thanks,” she says, looking hopeful. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You’re okay, Katerina.”

  “You too, Jade.”

  I think I am going to like having a cousin.

  Especially Jade.

  She’s kind of awesome.

  FOUR

  Flashback Tuesday.

  Americans are so weird.

  More so in the 1980’s.

  Big hair. Mismatching clothes. Scrunchies. And don’t even get me started on the awful music they listened to. Not that American music is much better now days. I much prefer Russian music.

  “You dressing up for 80’s day?” Tristan asks, and I swing punches at him. He blocks each one with precision. Just once I’d like him not to block. Not that I’d really punch him. I’d stop before I did that. But I’d like to beat him.

  “I don’t know,” I say, taking deep, even breaths, like Tristan taught me. “Americans back then were so weird. Not that you guys still aren’t weird.”

  He laughs, blocking another punch. “That hurts. You think I’m weird?”

  “Very,” I say, swinging my arm at his stomach.

  He blocks it.

  Dang it.

  “I resent that,” he says. “Maybe Russians are the weird ones.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” I say, swinging another punch.

  Perfect block.

  I decide to try something different. I use my leg.

  I watch in slow motion as Tristan falls to the floor.

  Oops. I thought he was going to block me.

  “My bad,” I say, using a saying I’ve heard a few people on campus using. It’s kind of like an apology, but you’re not actually saying sorry. I like it. I hold out a hand to help him up. He grabs it, but instead of letting me help him up, he pulls me down. I hit the floor beside him.

  He laughs.

  “Ouch,” I say, rubbing my hip. “That was so cruel, Tristan Thomas.”

  “You did it first. Katerina Mikhailovna Vasin.”

  “You said my middle name right,” I say, sitting up.

  He sits up beside me. “I’m learning Russian.”

  “Learning? I thought you were fluent.”

  “Nope. I just started learning in July,” he says.

  “But you understood Kazimir when he had a knife to my throat,” I say, feeling confused.

  “I’m taking advanced night classes,” he tells me. “I Skype with my teacher for three hours every single night. It’s supposed to be a four month program. And I did understand him. I didn’t understand every word, but enough to fill in the gaps.”

  “Oh,” I say. “I was wondering why you didn’t understand what I was saying when I spoke Russian to you when we first met, but then you understood Kazimir. It makes sense now. It must be hard to learn a second language.”

  “Very,” he says.

  “I’m lucky I was raised speaking both,” I say.

  He gets up off the floor and holds out a hand to help me up. He pulls me up, and we get back to training.

  I think about what Damon said—about him being a distraction while I’m training. I wonder if he’s right. When I train, I’ll probably end up paying too much attention to him. Maybe we should train separately.

  “Damon is up to two and a half miles,” I tell Tristan, taking swings at him.

  “That’s good,” he says.

  “I was thinking about the whole training him thing,” I say. “Maybe you should train him separate, because I think he would be distracting to me. I mean, I like him. You know?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he says. “I agree. You really need to focus on training and I really don’t want to watch the two of you drool over each other when I’m trying to help you. You’re my priority though. I can’t spend as much time with him.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say.

  “You want to block now?” he asks. “I’ll try to hit you.”

  I sigh, hating this part.

  He’s so much better than I am.

  “Sure,” I say, knowing that I not only need to know how to fight, but also how to defend myself in said fight.

  We start out slow at first. Him throwing punches. Me blocking. Out of ten punches, I’m able to block nine of them, which is a huge improvement from when we first started training.

  “I’m impressed,” he says, swinging at me.

  “Thanks,” I say, grinning at the compliment.

  Tristan never compliments anybody. Ever. So I know I must be good.

  He swings another punch, this time at my face.

  I move my arm to block it, but I’m too slow.

&
nbsp; His fist connects with my nose.

  “Agh!” I scream, cover my nose. I feel something warm drip down.

  “Oh my… I’m sorry, Katerina. Let me see,” he says, taking my hands away.

  I feel the blood dripping down from my nose and my chin, staining the shirt I’m wearing. He grabs a nearby towel and puts it under my nose.

  I’m not crying, but tears fill my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Tristan says again, as the tears run down my cheek.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s so not your fault.”

  He wipes the tears from under my eyes. “I made you cry.”

  “I’m not crying,” I say.

  He frowns. “We should probably go to the doctor and get your nose checked out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He touches my nose, making me wince from the pain.

  “Come on, Katerina. I’m taking you to the doctor,” he says.

  I pull the towel away from my nose and blood starts dripping down again.

  I look at the blood stained towel and feel sick to my stomach.

  “Are you okay?” Tristan asks. “You look sick.”

  “Blood,” I say, everything going fuzzy around the edges.

  “You don’t like blood?”

  “N…”

  The words don’t get out of my mouth before everything goes black.

  His job.

  I wake up in a hospital bed.

  Except this time, it’s not because I was nearly killed. This time, it’s because I fainted at the side of blood. In front of Tristan. Which I am sure he is going to tease me for the rest of my life. I’m positive he will find the whole thing very hilarious.

  I reach up to my nose, and wince at the pain when I touch it.

  Yep, it still hurts.

  “It’s not broken,” Tristan says.

  “That’s good,” I say. “But that means you were holding back.”

  “Maybe a little,” he says.

  “You can’t do that.”