Suki Clear had ruled the outcasts at her old school. Now she stood in a hallway with five hundred rooms and no clue where they hid. She wanted the same crown here at Chaos Falls High. But you can't lead a crowd you can't find. She walked the first floor twice. Preppy kids clustered by the lockers. Jocks blocked the stairs. None of them were hers. Her black boots echoed on the tile. Her red bangs stuck to her forehead. Her side ponytail swung as she turned another corner into another identical hall. The school felt built to swallow her. Three floors. Endless doors. She pulled one open and found a supply closet. She opened another and found a crying freshman. Nobody knew what she meant when she asked about the outcasts. One girl just backed away from Suki's face. Suki almost gave up. Then she heard it. Low engine noise, rattling through a cracked window at the end of the hall. She followed the sound down a back stairwell and out a service door. Behind the school sat a cracked lot. A dozen kids in black leaned against the wall. Painted nails. Chains. Torn jackets. She had found them. Her pulse jumped. These were her people, and she would take them. A motorcycle sat at the center, and a boy sat on it. He was tall. Silver hair swept back like something from an old movie. His fingernails were black, and his biker jacket hung open. The others watched him the way you watch a leader. Suki's stomach flipped before her brain caught up. He was, she admitted, the most attractive boy she had ever seen. She crossed the lot. Heads turned toward her. "Who runs this crowd?" she asked. The silver-haired boy didn't get off the bike. He looked her over slowly, then smirked. "That would be me," he said. "Hidan. And you're standing in my spot." The others laughed. One of them told her the new girls usually asked permission first. Suki's face went flat and cold. The flutter in her chest died fast. This boy wasn't a prize. He was the thing in her way. You couldn't be queen while a king sat on the throne. "I don't ask permission," she said. Hidan's smirk widened. He revved the engine once, just to talk over her. "Cute," he said. "Come back when someone actually likes you." The crowd chuckled again. They didn't move to make room. They stood with him, not her. That was the answer to her whole day of searching. She had found the outcasts. She had also found the one person she had to destroy to own them. Suki turned and walked back inside. She had the location now. She had the target now. And she had a promise for herself. By the end of the year, they would laugh at Hidan, and cheer for her.

Suki found her first classroom on the third floor. Her cheeks still burned from the lot behind the school. Hidan's words followed her up every stair. Come back when someone actually likes you. Nobody out there had taken her side. She needed a plan, but plans needed people, and right now she had none. She stepped inside and scanned for an empty seat. Only one chair sat open, in the back corner. She dropped into it. The girl beside her flinched and stared down at her notebook. Light brown hair. Straight bangs. A soft blue cardigan buttoned to the neck. She looked like the kind of girl teachers forgot to call on. A stack of other students' homework sat on her desk, done in her neat handwriting. Suki knew that look. This was a girl people used and then walked past. Suki didn't have time to be gentle. "You go here long?" she asked. The girl nodded without looking up. Her pencil kept moving. "Then you know things," Suki said. "The kids in black. Behind the school. Who are they?" The pencil stopped. The girl glanced sideways, then back down, like meeting Suki's eyes might cost her something. "They're the Akatsuki," she said. Her voice barely cleared the desk. "The outcasts. Everyone calls them that." Suki leaned closer. "And the one on the motorcycle?" "Hidan. He runs them." The girl finally looked up. "He's led them two years. Nobody's ever pushed him out." Two years. Suki filed that away. This quiet girl knew more about the crowd than the crowd would ever tell her. She wasn't just filling in blanks. She was handing Suki a map. "What's your name?" Suki asked. "Chii." She said it like an apology. Two boys at the next desk snorted. One of them reached over and slid Chii's homework stack toward himself. "Thanks, nerd," he said, and didn't ask. Chii shrank into her cardigan. She said nothing. Suki's face went cold and flat. She grabbed the papers back and dropped them in front of Chii. "She's busy," Suki said. Her voice had no give in it. The boy opened his mouth, saw her expression, and shut it. He turned around. Chii stared at Suki like she'd grown a second head. "You didn't have to do that." "I know." Suki almost smiled. "You're smart. Smart is useful." The bell rang. Students filled the seats around them. Suki didn't move to another spot. An hour ago she'd had no one. Now she had a girl who knew every name, every history, every weakness in Hidan's crowd. That was worth ten kids in torn jackets. "Sit with me at lunch," Suki said. It wasn't a question. Chii hesitated, then nodded. Her pencil started moving again, faster now. Suki turned to the front. She still couldn't beat Hidan alone. But she wasn't alone anymore.

The lunchroom roared with noise. Suki carried her tray between the tables, black sleeves pushed up, her side ponytail swinging. Chii trailed close behind, clutching her own tray with both hands. They looked for two open seats. Suki had spent the morning turning over what Chii told her about Hidan. Two years in charge. No one had knocked him down. Somewhere he had a crack. She just needed to find it. A boy stood up three tables away. He wore a beanie and a hoodie two sizes too big. His hazel eyes locked on Suki and stayed there. He forgot his own lunch and walked straight over, nearly tripping on a backpack strap. "Hey," he said, too loud. "You're new. I'm Jay." Suki knew the look on his face. She'd seen it before. He stared at her like she'd hung the moon. To her it meant nothing. He felt like a little brother trailing after her, sweet and harmless. "We're finding a table," she said flat. "Sit with me," Jay said fast. "I've got room. Best table. Trust me." Beside Suki, Chii went pink. Her cheeks glowed under her bangs. She stared at Jay, then at the floor, then at Jay again. Suki caught it all. Chii wasn't blushing at the food. Interesting. Suki almost said no. But a table was a table, and Chii looked ready to melt into her cardigan. "Fine," Suki said. She steered Chii ahead of her, and they followed Jay across the room. The table sat in a back corner, half hidden. A laptop rested there, open. Layers of skater stickers covered every inch of the lid, peeling metal bands and grinning skulls. The screen showed lines of code, green text scrolling in a black window. Suki set her tray down slow and looked at it. "You do that?" she asked, pointing. Jay grinned and dropped into his seat. "Yeah. Little project. I got into the school's grade system last week. Just for fun." He tapped the keys. Files opened, closed, opened again. "I can pull up pretty much anything. Records. Schedules. Whatever." Suki's mean face didn't move. Inside, something clicked. This boy who followed her like a puppy could crack open locked doors. Grade records. Discipline files. Everything the school buried about a boy who'd ruled the outcasts for two years. She pulled the chair beside him and sat. "Anything," she repeated. "What about one student. Everything on him." "Sure. Name?" "Hidan." Jay's fingers stopped. He glanced up, hesitant now. Chii's eyes went wide across the table. Suki leaned toward the glowing screen, her red bangs falling forward. "Find me his weakness," she said. "Everybody has one." Jay swallowed, then started typing. The stickers on the laptop caught the light. For the first time since the lot behind the school, Suki felt the ground tilt her way. She had a spy now. And a way in.