Blue Bloods by Melissa de la Cruz

What's on the back of the book:
They're young, Fabulous and Fanged . . .

And they rule Manhattan from the trendy uptown clubs to the downtown boutiques. Fifteen-year-old Schuyler Van Alen has never quite fit in at her exclusive prep school - she's more of a vintage than a Versace girl - but all that's about to change . . .

Because Schuyler has just found out she's a Blue Blood. The Blue Bloods are the city's glamorous and secret vampire elite. They're young, beautiful and powerful. But now they're being murdered. And Schuyler must find out who - or what - is behind it, before she's next.

A piece from the book:
Across the street, Schuyler saw a cab pull up to the curb, and a tall blond guy stepped out of it. Just as he emerged, another cab barreled down the street on the opposite side. It was swerving recklessly, and at first it looked like it would miss him, but at the last moment, the boy threw himself in its path and disappeared underneath its wheels. The taxicab never even stopped, just kept going as if nothing happened.
"Oh my God!" Schuyler screamed.
The guy had been hit - she was sure of it - he'd been run over - he was surely dead.
"Did you see that?" she asked, frantically looking around for Oliver, who seemed to have disappeared. Schuyler ran across the street, fully expecting to see a dead body, but the boy was standing right in front of her, counting the change in his wallet. He slammed the door shut and sent his taxi on its way. He was whole and unhurt.
"You should be dead," she whispered.
"Excuse me?" he asked, a quizzical smile on his face.
Schuyler was a little taken aback - she recognized him from school. It was Jack Force. The famous Jack Force. One of those guys - head of the lacrosse team, lead in the school play, his term paper on shopping malls published in Wired, so handsome she couldn't even meet his eye.
Maybe she was dreaming things. Maybe she just thought she'd seen him dive in front of the cab. That had to be it. She was just tired.
"I didn't know you were a dazehead," she blurted awkwardly, meaning a Trance acolyte.
"I'm not, actually. I'm headed over there," he explained, motioning to the club next door to The Bank, where a very intoxicated rock star was steering several giggling groupies past the velvet rope.
Schuyler blushed. "Oh, I should have known."
He smiled at her kindly. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why apologize? How would you have known that? You read minds or something?" he asked.
"Maybe I do. And maybe it's an off day." She smiled. He was flirting with her, and she was flirting back. Okay, so it was definitely just her imagination. He had totally not thrown himself in front of the cab.