Kenzi stepped from the rug onto the wood floor. "Not street crime in Santa Barbara, foiled street crime. It's for my journalism final project. Some people are saying there's a mystical force at work. Maybe even Santa Barbara come back herself."

"Can't it just be a coincidence? Criminals mess up all the time, right?"

"People don't like coincidences. Like the way it's no coincidence that you are trying to make me talk about this rather than answer my questions about what happened with you and Will. One minute it looks like you two are totally-and I might add, finally-hooking up and the next you are back here in our room. Ruining, I might also add, a totally ace romantic evening for me."

"I did tell you," Miranda groaned. "It was nothing. Nothing happened."

Slouching against the Town Car now as the last of the daylight faded, Miranda thought that nothing was an understatement. It had been worse than nothing. That expression on Will's face, the one that hovered between you've-got-something-green-caught-in-your-teeth and oh-hello-Professor-Crazy, a mixture of horror and, well, horror, when she'd finally gotten up the guts to-

That's when it hit her. The articles on Kenzi's desk had all come out on Thursdays, reporting on things that had happened-things she'd done-on Wednesdays.

"Wednesday and Saturday afternoons free," she heard Caleb saying, repeating her words.

That was bad. That was really bad. She was going to have to lay low.

The gold Lexus SUV behind her pulled away from the curb and Miranda could hear the couple inside fighting over the sound of their air conditioner. The woman at the wheel turning her head to yell at her husband-Don't lie to me! I know you were with her! — hitting the gas hard right as the family with the little blond girl stepped into the crosswalk in front of her…

Afterward no one was really sure what had happened.

One second the car was careening toward the family in the crosswalk, the next there was a blur and they were on the curb, bewildered but safe.

As she watched the gold SUV speed off into the distance, Miranda felt the adrenaline thrill she always got after she'd acted without thinking, saved someone. It was addictive, like a drug.

And dangerous, like a drug, she reminded herself.

I think you should get yourself a dictionary. That is not what "laying low" means.

Shut up. It was only a handspring and a little push. Hardly some big tactical maneuver.

You shouldn't have done it. It was too risky. You're not invisible, you know.

But I wasn't seen. It was fine.

This time.

Miranda wondered if everyone had a voice in their head permanently set to the U-Suck channel.

What are you trying to do, anyway? Do you think you can save everyone? When you couldn't even-

Shut up.

"What?" a girl's voice asked and Miranda was startled to realize she'd spoken aloud, and someone was standing there.

The girl was about Miranda's height but younger, maybe fourteen, and dressed like she'd been studying early Madonna videos and wanted to be sure that if mesh shirts worn over bras, fingerless gloves, teased hair, thick black eyeliner, rubber bracelets, petticoat skirts with fishnets, and ankle boots came back in style, she'd be ready.

"I'm sorry," Miranda said, "I was talking to myself." Not exactly how the Mature Driver Person she was supposed to be should act.

"Oh." The girl held the sign with the word CUMEAN on it out to Miranda. "You'll want this. And this," she said, handing her a small square box.

Miranda took the sign but shook her head at the box. "That's not mine."

"It must be. And me, too. I mean, I'm Sibby Cumean." She pointed at the sign.

Miranda pocketed the box to open the back door for the girl, wondering what kind of parent let their fourteen-year-old get picked up by a stranger at eight at night.

"Can't I ride in front?"

"Clients prefer the back," Miranda said in her most professional voice.

"What you really mean is that you prefer it when they ride in the back. But what if I want to ride in the front? Don't clients get to do what they want?"

5Bs Luxury Transport was named after a set of principles the owner, Tony Bosun, had made up-B on time, B polite, B accommodating, B discreet, B sure to get paid. Even though Miranda suspected he'd come up with them when he was drunk late one night, she tried to follow the rules and she was pretty sure this counted as B accommodating. She moved to open the front door.

The girl shook her head. "Never mind. I'll stay in back."

Miranda plastered on a smile. What a rad day she was having! Her VIP client was a tiny demon, her dream guy was going to the prom with someone else, and the sheriff's deputy she had a crush on not only knew it but joked about it with his girlfriend! Awesome.

At least, she told herself, things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Oh, now you've done it.

Shut up.

Sibby Cumean started talking as soon as they got out of the airport.

"How long have you been driving people around?" she asked Miranda.

A year.

"Did you grow up here?"

"No."

"Do you have any brothers?"

"No."

"Any sisters?"

"N-no."

"Do you like driving?"

"Yes."

"Do you have to wear that boring black suit?"

"Yes."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Um, not."

"Fine. Eighteen."

"Have you ever had sex?"

Miranda cleared her throat. "I don't think that question is appropriate." She heard herself sound like Dr. Trope, the assistant head of school, with the voice he used to tell her he wasn't listening to another excuse about why she was late getting back to campus, rules were made for a reason and that reason wasn't so she could flout them for her amusement; and speaking of late, did she plan at some point to decide what she was going to do next year or just irresponsibly forfeit her place at the several top-tier colleges she'd been accepted to, making the school look bad and herself look worse; and really he didn't know what had gotten into her recently, where was the Miranda Kiss who was going to be a doctor and save the world, who was a credit to the school and herself, rather than the one who was on her way to being expelled-is that what you really want, young lady? A voice she knew well since she seemed to have been hearing it at least once a week since early November.

"You're a virgin," Sibby announced, like she was confirming a sad fact she'd long suspected.

"That's not-"

"Do you at least have a boyfriend?"

"Not at this-"

"A girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you have any friends? You're not really very good at conversation."

Miranda was beginning to understand why the girl's relatives hadn't come to the airport for her.

"I have lots of friends."

"Sure. I believe you. What do you do for fun?"

"Answer questions."

"Please never try to be funny again." Sibby leaned forward. "Have you ever thought of wearing some black eyeliner? It would be an improvement."

B polite! "Thanks."

"Can you pull up?"

"Um, we're at a stoplight."

"Just go forward a tiny-perfect."

Looking in the side mirror, Miranda saw that Sibby had rolled down her window and was leaning out, saying now to the guys in the jeep next to them, "Where are you boys going?"

The guys answered, "A little moonlight surfing. Want to come, goddess?"

"I'm not a goddess. Do you think I look like one?"

"I can't tell. Maybe if you take off your shirt."

"Maybe if you give me a kiss."

Miranda hit the button to roll up the window.

"What are you doing?" Sibby demanded. "You could have broken my hand."

"Put your seat belt on, please."

"Put your seat belt on, please," Sibby mimicked, slumping back into the seat. "Oh my gods, I was just trying to be sociable."