I could feel the kid staring at the back of my head, and I didn’t know whether or not to be annoyed or flattered. He wasn’t bad looking, but at the same time, no one ever said it was a good idea to get involved with a good looking guy—that’s almost a bad idea, if you look at my family history. I kept glancing at the clock unconciously. Ten minutes left of class, and I was wondering when he was going to talk to me again. Did I really want to talk to him? I tried to comb my fingers through the knots in my hair, realizing it was a losing battle and settling back in my seat. Hopefully he didn’t mind. If he did, I might need to find a brush. Looking decent for the locals might be a good idea.