This was a good story about a teenage girl, Luce, that does not understand what is happening to her. She was at a very good prep school, getting fantastic grades and then something happened. But we don't find out what until at least a third of the way through the book. She gets sent to a school called Sword & Cross. It's a reform school. She sees a boy who looks so familiar. His name is Daniel. She needs to be with him because she belongs with him. He gets close then spurns her. Over and over. Luce is so confused. Another boy, Cam, likes her and she likes to be with him but then she sees the shadows. What will happen to Luce?
There’s something achingly familiar about Daniel Grigori.
Mysterious and aloof, he captures Luce Price’s attention from the moment she sees him on her first day at the Sword & Cross boarding school in sultry Savannah, Georgia. He’s the one bright spot in a place where cell phones are forbidden, the other students are all screw-ups, and security cameras watch every move.
Even though Daniel wants nothing to do with Luce–and goes out of his way to make that very clear–she can’t let it go. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, she has to find out what Daniel is so desperate to keep secret . . . even if it kills her.
As they came around the corner of the cinder-block classrooms, Arriane skidded to a halt. “Effect cool,” she said.
Luce nodded, already looking around the grounds. “Cool,” she repeated.
All the other students seemed to be clustered around the kudzu-strangled trees outside the building. No one looked exactly happy to be hanging out, but no one looked ready to go inside yet, either.
There hadn’t been much of a dress code at Dover, so Luce wasn’t used to the uniformity it gave a student body. Then again, even though every kid here was wearing the same black jeans and black sweater, there were still substantial differences in how they pulled it off.
A group of tattooed girls standing in a crossed-armed circle wore bangle bracelets up to their elbows. The black bandanas in their hair reminded Luce of a film she’d once seen about motorcycle-gang girls. She’d rented it because she’d thought: What could be cooler than an all-girls motorcycle gang? Now Luce’s eyes locked with those of one of the girls across the lawn. The sideways squint of the girl’s darkly lined cat-eyes made Luce quickly shift the direction of her gaze.
She noticed that a guy and a girl holding hands had sewn sequins in the shape of skulls and crossbones on the backs of their black sweaters. Every few seconds, one of them would pull the other in for a kiss on the temple, on the earlobe, on the eye. They looked a little rough, but it was obvious how much in love they were. Every time she saw their tongue rings flashing, Luce felt a lonely pinch inside her chest.
Behind the lovers, a cluster of blond boys stood pressed against the wall. Each of them wore a white oxford shirt under his sweater, the collar starched straight up. Their tailored black pants hit the bridges of their polished dress shoes perfectly. Of all the students on the quad, these boys seemed to Luce to be the closest thing to Doverites. But a closer look quickly set them apart from boys she used to know. Boys like Trevor.
Just standing in a group, these guys radiated a specific kind of toughness. It was right there in the look in their eyes. It was hard to explain, but it suddenly struck Luce that just like her, everyone at this school had a past. Everyone here probably had secrets they wouldn’t want to share. But she couldn’t figure out whether this realization made her feel more or less isolated.
Arriane noticed Luce’s eyes running over the rest of the kids.
“We all do what we can to make it through the day,” she said, shrugging. “But in case you hadn’t noticed the low-hanging vultures, this place pretty much reeks of death.” She took a seat on a bench under a weeping willow and patted the spot next to her for Luce. Luce wiped away a mound of wet, decaying leaves, but just before she sat down, she noticed another dress code violation.
A very attractive dress code violation.
No, attractive didn’t even come close to covering it.
He wore a bright red scarf around his neck. It wasn’t cold outside, but he had on a black leather motorcycle jacket over his black sweater, too. Maybe it was because his was the only spot of color on the quad, but he was all that Luce could look at. In fact, everything else so paled in comparison that, for one long moment, Luce completely forgot where she was.
She took in his deep golden hair and the matching tan. Her eyes ran over his high cheekbones, the dark sunglasses that covered his eyes, and the fullness of his lips. In all the movies Luce had seen, and in all the books she’d read, the love interest was empirically attractive—except for that one little flaw. The chipped tooth, the charming cowlick, the beauty mark on his left cheek. She knew why—if the hero was too unblemished, he’d risk becoming unapproachable. But approachable or not, Luce had always had a weakness for the sublimely gorgeous.
And sublimely gorgeous this guy was . . . but the crazy thing was, it wasn’t the way he looked that kept Luce’s rapt attention. She started to feel that there was something else, something bigger that, after her first glance, almost prevented her from really seeing him at all.