LITMIR.BIZ

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all thoughts of strategy fled; Zoe’s stomach knotted. With narrowed eyes, she looked at the grainy black-and-white picture of the king and queen. Brad Young and Candice Love. Her crush and the girl who’d stolen him away from her.

      She gave a low growl. Candice was the mean, snotty bitch behind making Zoe’s high-school life a living hell. Galaxies apart socially, the two girls had been in direct competition in most things academic. Zoe snickered, remembering that four out of five times, she’d beaten Candice.

      But Candice had had her revenge. Her whispers had taken Zoe’s one spark of happiness and turned it into a worthless misery. Buzz of Zoe’s parents and the affair had surfaced the same week she’d won the Governors’ Award for Excellence. Candice had been the one whispering loudest, saying that since Zoe’s mom had been fooling around with the principal, his recommendation and support of Zoe were based on her mother’s bedroom skills. Zoe hadn’t believed the gossip. She knew her parents were having problems, but cheating wasn’t one of them. But she’d never forgiven Candice for starting the ugly rumor. Or for planting those doubts in Zoe’s head.

      Which meant helping out her brother was also her chance to go back, show the stuck-up cheerleader and her gang of friends that she was all those things Meghan tried to convince her she was. Hot and successful.

      “Okay, fine,” she decided with a determined thrust of her chin. “I’ll go.”

      “Thanks, Zoe.” Meghan’s gratitude, apparent in her blue eyes and huge, relieved smile, gave Zoe a warm feeling. Helping was good. Meghan picked up the reunion folder and flipped through the pages. “You need a costume. And you’re late sending an RSVP, so it might be hard to get a room at the reunion hotel.”

      “I’m going, but I’m not wearing some stupid costume. The last thing I want to do is dress up and make nice with the people who so easily judged and dismissed me,” she sneered as though she didn’t care. And she didn’t. At least, not much.

      “Please, Zoe. If you’re going to get these people to help you find Gandalf, you have to at least pretend you’re going to play their game.”

      Zoe wrinkled her nose. Play nice? She hadn’t factored that into her calculations. But the pitiful begging look on Meghan’s face forced her to nod.

      “I’ll take care of the RSVP,” she said with her best negotiation smile. “The reunion is at Drake Inn. I know the owners. So I’ll be right there in the thick of things and able to track down all the Gandalf insider info. But I’m not doing a costume.”

      Meghan waved the purple and orange flyer. “You have to. It’s a costume party!” she declared.

      “No, thanks,” Zoe said. “I’ll find a sexy little dress and wear that instead.”

      She wasn’t going for the reunion festivities. She was going to help out her brother. And maybe, just maybe for a second shot at the crush that got away. A chance to show the hottie football star, Brad Young, just what he’d missed out on. Blond and buff, he’d inspired many a fantasy and her sadly failed attempt to divest herself of that pesky virginity problem.

      And then he’d left her high and dry.

      Oh, yeah. The promise of showing everyone—Brad, Candice and all the people who’d mocked her—just how well she was doing was the last bit of incentive she needed to return to hell and chase down Gandalf.

      As she imagined that scenario and considered shopping for new lingerie, Zoe tapped her bottom lip and considered. Die a virgin, her ass. The problem with a title like that, though, was how the hell did one prove it wrong?

       Two weeks later

      ZOE STRODE UP TO the beveled-glass doors of the Drake Inn, her four-inch stiletto boots rat-a-tat-tatting against the stamped cement. She’d spent a lot of time here in her teens since her best friend Dex’s parents owned the place.

      After Meghan had convinced her to attend the reunion, Zoe had pulled out her one photo album and laughed over the few happy memories she had of Bradford. All of them had included her best friend, Dex.

      As much an oddball as she was, Dex had joined in with Zoe’s schemes and dreams. They had sketched castles in the air of the wonders they’d accomplish when they were out from under the oppressive judgment of all the small-town minds that didn’t understand them.

      A brainy Goth-girl and a geeky math nerd, both proud not to fit in with their mainstream classmates.

      She could use some of that youthful arrogance now. Oh, sure, she was still distinctive and self-assured. People treated her with respect, curried her favor and sought out her professional advice. But as soon as she drove into town, all her old doubts, self-consciousness and worry about not fitting in had hit her.

      It’d been one thing to plan a brilliant reunion coup with Meghan in her living room, to draw up a list of ideas, just the way she’d outline a plan of attack for one of the flailing businesses that regularly consulted her. Zoe had made a roster of people to talk to. She’d gone through the yearbook and researched all of her classmates, coming up with a list of possible wizards. She’d e-mailed everyone she knew in the business industry who might have any ideas about Gandalf, and she had had Meghan use Zach’s contacts to dig for information.

      Her plan for this week? Divide and conquer. She’d talk to everyone on her list, from teacher to geek. She’d poke around all the places Gandalf featured in his video games and see if she could find some clues. She’d pull strings, make nice and play sleuth. One way or another, if Gandalf was in Bradford, Zoe would track him down for Zach.

      But now, faced with actually implementing the plan? She remembered what it’d felt like to be a gawky teen. Only now she didn’t have her Gothic F-you attitude to hide behind. Of course, she’d been faking it ten years ago anyway.

      She squared her shoulders. It’d served her well enough before, so she might as well fake it again. Phony attitude or not, she was on a mission. Like SweetCheeks, she had her orders and she was here to kick ass.

      Snickering at the image, Zoe reached the door and paused. She really didn’t want to go in there. The only way this could be less appealing was if she was going in for a back-to-back mammogram, root canal, public weigh-in.

      Would anyone recognize her? Maybe she wasn’t a pudgy Goth dressed in black with spiked hair and random piercings, but, as she glanced at her reflection in the door, she realized she hadn’t changed that much. Her short, wild hair was still black in places, along with chunky red and blond highlights. She still sported an extra five pounds, but now she emphasized those curves instead of hiding them in baggy T-shirts. And while she’d let most of her piercings close up, she wore a small diamond in her nose and eight in each ear.

      Yeah, she was still “different.” But at least now, she had enough confidence in her abilities not to let that bother her. Unlike in high school, when she’d been stuck in this town with no options, for this round she’d come with an agenda. And that gave her the advantage. She was on the ball and in command.

      And flying monkeys were delivering her luggage.

      Amused by her own idiotic pep talk, Zoe grabbed the brass handle and swung the door open.

      Showtime.

      Ten minutes and a room key later, Zoe crossed the lobby, congratulating herself. She’d checked in, gotten her reunion welcome package and managed to avoid any actual reunions.

      “Zoe? Zoe Gaston, the chic geek?”

      The shrill chorus stopped her in her tracks. Zoe gave a horrified little spasm before clearing her face and turning toward the giggling.

      The Fenton sisters. Two perfect, redheaded porcelain dolls with hearts of ice. Zoe had to fight to put a fake smile on her face. She fought even harder against the urge to run.

      “Hello,” she voiced tonelessly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

      “Well, well. You’ve certainly changed,” one said. The other eyed her up and down, probably

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