Inara Scott - The Candidates (Delcroix Academy, Book 1)

DANCIA!

I pulled off my headphones and waited, hoping I was hearing the TV and not Grandma calling. I checked the clock: ten fifteen, which meant The Price is Right was on and Grandma should have been occupied.

It came again, this time from the hall outside my room. Dancia, can you come out, please? Theres someone here to see you.

Music blared through the headphones, and I leaned over to turn down my ancient silver CD player. Surely I had misheard Grandma. Someone to see me? Dancia Lewis, the incredible invisible girl? No way.

I threw open my bedroom door, expecting to see my four-foot-tall grandmother entertaining a neighbors cat in our living room. Instead, a pair of well-dressed strangers sitting on the couch turned toward me in unison, got to their feet, and smiled.

I restrained the urge to slam my door. On the right stood a teenage guy with thick chestnut hair, chocolaty brown eyes, and the kind of perfectly square jaw I thought only existed on models. He wore khaki pants and a white shirtclassic preppy gear, though on him it looked incredibly hot.

The man on the left had black hair with wings of pure white at the temples, and unbelievable blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. Not that Ive ever seen the Caribbean, but I swear you could have cut and pasted his eyes right into an ad for the Bahamas.

Meanwhile, I looked like I didnt know how to operate a washing machine. My gym shorts had a glob of strawberry jelly on them from breakfast, my wrinkled gray T-shirt looked like it had been slept in (which it had), and my Seattle Mariners baseball hat had a dark ring around the brim.

Grandma practically winced as her gaze traveled up and down my outfit. Her taste runs toward matching velour tracksuits, so I dont usually worry about her opinion much. Still, this time I think she was right.

She moved quickly, snatching the hat off my head, and I felt my curls spring instantly back into place. Without thinking, I tried to flatten them back down with my hands. I should have known it was a lost cause. I work pretty hard at being unremarkable, but theres nothing I can do about my hair. Its light blond and super curly. Very hard to miss. White-girl fro, if you know what I mean. I tried to dye it once, but you cannot imagine what happens to dry, frizzy hair when you dye it. Its not pretty.

Grandma dragged me the ten feet from my bedroom to the couch. This is my granddaughter, Dancia Lewis, she said proudly.

Miss Lewis, so nice to meet you. Im Richard Judan, chief recruiter for Delcroix Academy. The older man stepped forward and shook my hand. His voice was deep and smooth, like a politicians or TV newscasters.

Delcroix? I repeated, like some idiotic parrot.

Delcroix Academy is this ritzy private school on the outskirts of Danville, where Grandma and I live. Its about eighty miles from Seattle; too far to commute for work, but Ive heard some people buy houses between Seattle and Danville just so they can send their kids to Delcroix and keep jobs in Seattle. Because, really, who would live in Danville if they didnt have to?

The school sits on a hill overlooking our town. An iron fence surrounds endless lawns, which are green even in the middle of summer, when the rest of Danvilles grass withers and dies. Enormous front gates open only for the buses that bring kids to and from school each day. People have to leave their cars in a special parking lot at the bottom of the hill and take the buses up, even the teachers. I guess its a security thing. Half the kids are probably royalty from some foreign country. They definitely dont hang out in town. The kids at my school make fun of them the way you make fun of a movie star, or the president. Famous people you see from a distance, but never expect to meet.

Yes, Delcroix. Caribbean Blue Eyes gave me a smile so white it gleamed, then gestured toward his sidekick. This is Cameron Sanders. Hell be a junior at Delcroix this fall, and hes one of our student recruiters. He works with me over the summer to identify potential new freshman and tell them about the school.

Call me Cam. The boy stuck out his hand for me to shake. He was tall, way taller than me, and Im a good five foot nine. In middle school I really had to slouch to hide the fact that I was the tallest girl in my class. Naturally, Grandma is always on me to stand up straight.

Hi, Cam. I tried to wipe my hand surreptitiously on my shorts, because it had suddenly become damp, and the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was one of those people who always had sweaty palms. I couldnt avoid meeting his eyes, so I looked, and instantly I got this fluttery feeling in my chest. Even though I knew it was impossible for a guy that attractive to ever notice a girl like me, his gaze felt warm and inviting. He had an air of athletic outdoorsyness, like he could run a marathon or climb a mountain and look gorgeous doing it.

Reluctantly, I extended my hand.

Great to finally meet you, Dancia. He closed his palm over mine, and I could barely keep from jumping when an electric shock rippled through my arm.

It sounds weird, but I seriously felt something, like when I was five and accidentally put my finger in a socket. Static electricity from the carpet, I guess, except it felt stronger than that. I knew I couldnt be imagining it, because it wasnt exactly a good feeling, and if Id imagined touching Cam, it would have felt good.

Startled, I jerked my hand away and dropped my eyes, but not before I caught him smiling at me. It was a comforting smile, like he felt the shock too, and he wanted to tell me it was all right.

Mr. Judan smiled as well. But his smile wasnt comforting. It was triumphant. Like hed won the lottery or something.