I stare at Tessa like I’m seeing a ghost. This is definitely not Theodora. I saw Theodora ten minutes ago, back with the other Similars in their costumes. This girl is wearing something trendy, something I doubt Theodora would ever put on. She’s paired a sweater that looks like it’s made of gold chain mail with distressed, wide-legged denim jeans. On her feet are the chunkiest, and tallest, woven platform sandals I’ve ever seen. Her face glows from some kind of shimmery makeup, and her hair looks like it’s been highlighted with streaks of copper.
“Hi,” she says emotionlessly, staring right at me.
“Hi?” I answer back. No one’s seen Tessa since she checked into that facility. “What’s up, Archer?” I say, feeling annoyed they’re in my way, though I’m admittedly a teeny bit curious as to what they’re doing here. Why is Archer back on campus again so soon?
“Hey,” Archer says, flashing a huge smile that reveals his unnaturally white teeth.
I shift my weight, antsy. Then I make a move to walk around them, but they both edge that same way, subtly blocking me. I decide to address Archer, because it’s easier; I have no desire to talk to Tessa, and no clue what to say to her. Are you less prone to violent attacks now? doesn’t seem appropriate.
“What are you doing back at Darkwood, Archer? Didn’t I hear you were filming an outrageously popular show somewhere?”
“Thailand. Shooting wrapped. I’m starting NYU next week.” Archer shrugs. “You know. At their drama program.”
“So you decided to come here? Why come back to high school when you don’t absolutely have to? Wouldn’t you rather be at a movie premiere or something?”
“Totally, but I’m visiting my buddy Ansel. He said there’s some kind of…party this weekend?” Archer pries, grinning at me rakishly. I’m not amused.
I sigh. “The masquerade ball. Let me guess. You want to crash it?”
“It’s not crashing if you used to go here,” Tessa says in that characteristic deadpan voice of hers.
“‘Used to’ being the operative words,” I snap back. “How’d you get out of the treatment center, anyway? I thought the judge said you had to go for at least six months.”
“I do, but I checked out for the weekend,” Tessa says airily. “It’s completely allowed.”
“The dance starts in ten minutes in the dining hall,” I tell them, eager to end this interaction as quickly as possible. “You’ll need costumes. Masks or capes.” I’m hoping this is enough information to get them to leave me alone.
“Awesome,” says Archer, smiling at me again.
“What’d I miss?” asks Jake Choate, bounding up behind them. He’s wearing a shimmery silver shirt and a slick blazer. “I was peeing in the bushes back there,” he says to me, like I care one iota. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
I don’t even respond. But I do notice the time on my plum. It’s almost eight o’clock. I sigh, turning back up the path, and use my Darkwood key to unlock the gate again. I hold the door open for Tessa, Jake, and Archer, who don’t bother to thank me.
I leave them behind, racing back to the dance. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I see Ollie there. Act like you never heard his thoughts, of course. If that thing happens again… I don’t know how I’ll react or what I’ll say. But for the sake of my best friend on the planet, I’m going to have to risk it.
• • •
The dance is already in full swing by the time I arrive. The dining hall has been transformed: twinkling lights are strung across the ceiling in an intricate web, and there are lush plants and flowers everywhere. With all the costumes and masks, some gold and glittering, others dark velvet, the place gives off an eerie, unfamiliar vibe. I can’t see anyone’s eyes. As I wind through the crowd, looking for Ollie and Pru, I lift my hood up over my head, suddenly feeling the urge to be anonymous, like everyone else.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I bristle, startled. When I spin around, it’s Ollie, his gray eyes sparkling through the eyeholes of his mask, which he’s holding up to his face. I feel instantly warmer from his touch, but chilly at the same time.
“Found you,” he says. I relax at the sound of his voice, so familiar to me, like my favorite, worn-in jeans. The ones he was teasing me about earlier—only I wasn’t supposed to hear. “What happened before?” He lowers his mask so I can see his face. “You ran out of there like you’d seen a ghost.”
I wait for it to happen again. For me to hear his thoughts.
But there’s nothing. Just me, and Ollie, and the crowd around us. I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Bathroom emergency.” I shrug. “Do you really want to know?”
“Definitely not.”
I laugh, snagging his mask from his hand and holding it up to my own face, covering it. “I’ll take that, thank you very much.”
“Get your own disguise!” Ollie chuckles.
I have to keep us busy, I realize. So busy he won’t have a chance to get me alone and say those things to me out loud. Because my answer to him will always be that we’re best friends, nothing more. And I don’t want to hurt Ollie. It makes me nauseous even thinking about it.
“Where’s Pru?” I blurt. “Did you walk over with her?”
“She went to find Pippa,” Ollie shouts. The music has picked up, and we have to talk loudly to hear each other. Good.
“Let’s look for her,” I say, grabbing Ollie’s hand and guiding him through the crowd. The costumes are so intricate and colorful, the space so full, it’s almost dizzying. We move past a student in an elaborate Wonder Woman costume; two girls and a boy dressed as the Schuyler sisters from Hamilton; a couple of fairies with smoky eyes and dazzling headdresses; multiple Severus Snapes, Hermiones, and Harrys; and more capes, cloaks, and masks than I can count.
“Pru!” I shout, spotting her across the way and making a beeline toward her. I tap her on the shoulder, only realizing in that moment that this isn’t Pru at all—it’s Pippa. She’s dressed in the cloak and hood I saw her in earlier. Next to her are Theodora and Maude, and I spot Ansel and Jago nearby, similarly garbed. “Pippa,” I correct myself. “Sorry, I never do that.”
Pippa smiles, not offended. “Pru’s here somewhere…”
I scan the room for her, but it’s so hard to pick anyone out of the dense crowd. My eyes land on a knot of kids I’d much rather not run into: Harlowe, with Ivy and Graham at her side. I don’t even register their costumes. I’m too busy feeling my blood starting to boil at the sight of them.
“Emma,” Ollie warns, sensing that I’m about to walk up to them. “Ignore them. Let’s go to the lake. Get some air.”
But I can’t go to the lake with Ollie, because I can’t be alone with him.
Before I can respond, a thumping beat blasts through the speakers, and a makeshift dance floor emerges in the center of the room, with kids letting loose and pulling out their best moves. Ollie starts leading me by the hand, in the direction of the dance floor.
“When’s the last time you saw me dance on purpose?” I shout. Ollie laughs, and I feel my heartbeat increasing as I wonder what he’s thinking. Maybe the dance floor’s the safest place to be. The Similars join us, and Pru finds us too. Soon everyone’s getting lost in rhythm, feeling the infectious beat, surrounded by Darkwood kids on all sides, everyone masked and sweaty and embellished. Enchanted, almost, or otherworldly. But I’m still standing solidly on the ground, and all I can think about is Levi. Whether he’s safe. Whether he’s thinking about me, at all. How much I ache for him to be here. How unfair it is that he never gets to enjoy these simple moments, like a regular high school student. Ollie does a little spin, flashing me his biggest smile, and that’s when I hear it.
“That’s Oliver Ward,” a girl near me in a bedazzled costume notes to her girlfriends.
“Suuuper cute. Right?” says another girl.
A guy next
to her raises an eyebrow. “We talked about this, Summer. He’s mine.”
“We so did not—”
I feel my cheeks flushing and distance myself from those kids. It’s weird hearing other students talk about Ollie like that.
So when he grabs my hand, pulling me toward him so that our bodies are, all of a sudden, extremely close, my chest pressed against his, the velvet of his cape brushing up against my thin T-shirt, I feel my heartbeat start to work double time.
No, no, no. Not now. Please don’t say it. I don’t want to hurt you.
His mask gone now, Ollie stares down at me with those gray, familiar eyes of his. “Em,” he breathes, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “There’s something I gotta tell you.”
“Is this thing on?” says a voice over the microphone. The music cuts out, and the room is plunged into silence. Every single person on the dance floor, including Ollie and me, turns to look at the person behind the mic.
“Sorry, everyone. Didn’t mean to interrupt the par-tay,” the voice goes on, laughing. Squinting through the darkened crowd, I can see who’s talking—it’s Archer, dressed in a sweeping cape, with his semi-long hair moussed back attractively. I get why this guy’s become an overnight star. He’s conventionally gorgeous, with his dark complexion, deep brown eyes, and hundred-watt smile. Plus, everyone loves his chill attitude and the way he seems to perpetually be in on some private joke. Still, I’d choose the quiet, thoughtful Ansel in a toss-up, any day. I’m happy Archer’s welcomed Ansel into his family, but that’s about as far as my love for Archer goes. Right now, though? I’m relieved Archer’s taken the mic, giving me an out. I take a teeny step away from Ollie.
“Turn the music back on!” someone yells. There are laughs and snickers from the crowd.
“Don’t you know who that is?” a girl’s voice shouts. “Archer de Leon. The star of Space Wars! Let him talk!” There are rumblings and more talking among the crowd. It seems some kids didn’t realize they were in the presence of Hollywood royalty.
Archer quiets everyone down. “This’ll only take a second. Okay, Headmaster? You mind if I make a little toast?” Archer’s eyes seek out Headmaster Ransom’s in the crowd. I follow them till I see Ransom myself. He gestures for Archer to go ahead. That’s the thing about Archer. Even as an alum who doesn’t go to this school anymore, he commands everyone’s attention. Archer raises the cup he holds in his hand. “To all the kids at Darkwood I used to love,” he laughs, tripping a little over his feet. “Especially Ansel Gravelle. My boy.” Now he looks for his Similar in the crowd, and when he finds him, his face spreads into a giant grin. It’s obvious now: Archer’s drunk. Why am I not surprised? “Come on up here, Ansel, buddy!”
Ansel, who’s standing with Maude and Pippa, not far from me and Ollie, gives a half-hearted wave. “That’s okay! I’m good here,” he calls out.
“Come on! Dude! You’re like my brother,” Archer goes on, getting louder with every sentence. “And bros stick together!”
“What happened to Archer while I was gone last year?” Ollie whispers in my ear. I shrug, my eyes still glued to the makeshift stage.
“I don’t know. Fame happened? Apparently Space Wars was streamed more times than any other show this summer, so…” I shrug.
The crowd’s starting to egg Archer on, calling out for Ansel to join his original up at the mic. Flustered, Ansel relents, making his way through the clusters of Darkwood students to the front. Ansel hops up next to his DNA twin, and Archer throws his arm around his Similar’s shoulders. The crowd starts cheering wildly.
“Lemme tell you about something that happened to me on the set of my show last week,” Archer says. He’s starting to slur his words. If it wasn’t obvious to everyone before, it is now. Archer’s wasted. And maybe even high. Who knows? “It’s been hard to get used to how famous I am,” Archer continues, “so when this group of teenagers practically mowed me down trying to take a selfie with me, the producers actually had to call security on ’em!”
There’s a reaction from the student body. Most cheer and holler, though a few others start talking among themselves. They’re restless and wish he’d wrap up his speech. Plus, I can tell that Ansel wishes he were anywhere but up on that stage.
“I knew Archie was kind of conceited,” a girl next to me says to her friend. “He posts like four selfies a day. But wow. Fame’s really gone to his head.”
“Anyone want to take a selfie with me right now?” Archer asks the crowd, and the girl next to me shoots her friend a look that says See what I mean? “You could get right in between me and Ansel. De Leon sandwich!” At that point, Ansel extricates himself from Archer’s grasp and slips down off the stage, walking back toward us. He looks mortified, but relieved to have escaped.
“That’s enough,” barks Headmaster Ransom, who has stepped up to take the mic out of Archer’s hands. “Mr. de Leon, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Hey, no problem, sir. If anyone wants a photo op with me, I’ll be right outside. No biggie if you want to sell it to the media! And I’m not opposed to taking my shirt off. Or my pants—” The sound of Archer’s voice cuts out. Someone’s pulled the plug on the AV system. Headmaster Ransom once again tells Archer to get down off the stage, but Archer’s not listening. He’s still trying to entertain the crowd. I crane my neck to get a better look at what’s happening, and I see Tessa and Jake step up and practically drag Archer off the stage. From the looks of things, they’re promising Ransom they’ll handle this. Once Ransom seems convinced Archer is leaving the dance and isn’t coming back, he starts toward the exit.
“Yikes,” Ollie says, gently taking me by the arm and spinning me around to face him. “That was quite the show Archer put on. Wanna take a walk?”
In that moment, I panic.
“I can’t, I—” I spot Headmaster Ransom making his way to the back of the room, to the dining hall entrance. My eyes follow him to the door.
—no reason to keep studying the Similars. I have their blood plasma, which is all I need now—
It’s happening again. I’m hearing things. Thoughts. Headmaster Ransom’s voice is whispering softly in my ear. Like Harlowe’s and Ollie’s.
—going to inject it in my office—
I’m seeing right into Ransom’s mind.
“I have to go,” I blurt. “It’s Ransom. He’s going to inject himself with the Similars’ plasma.”
“How do you know that?” Oliver asks, perplexed.
“I can’t explain it. I just do.”
“Can’t you worry about this tomorrow? We haven’t dissected all the ludicrous aspects of this dance yet.” Ollie’s eyebrows knit with tension. “I know it’s important to you, this Ransom thing. I don’t really get why, but—”
“It’s important to me because they’re my friends,” I say, frustrated that he can’t see why this matters so much. He was barely here last year. He isn’t friends with Maude and the others the way I am. He never saw them in those chairs, hooked up to IVs. What Ollie witnessed at Harlowe’s reverse hazing was only the tip of the iceberg. My friends have been through so much. “I’ll explain it all tomorrow. One more dance before I go?” It’s the last thing I want to do right now, but I don’t want to hurt Ollie’s feelings. So I stay for one more song. When it ends, I stretch up on tiptoe to give Ollie a peck on the cheek. To his credit, Ollie doesn’t say anything or show his disappointment. Still, I sense it there, and I hate myself for leaving now. For not letting him tell me about his feelings. For dodging him at every turn. “Fill me in on everything at breakfast tomorrow. Make a spreadsheet!” I call out as I start to leave. “We can ridicule the dance by category. Decorations. Costumes. Awkward impromptu speeches by teen heartthrobs!”
I go, escaping the same way Ransom left, through the wide double doors.
I run all the way across the darkened campus to his office, leaving be
hind the merriment of the dining hall, the twinkling lights, the costumes, the festivities. Leaving Ollie behind too, his unsaid words still lingering in the air between us.
I’m not even out of breath when I arrive at Ransom’s office. I’ve got that adrenaline-rush feeling again, like I did after I heard Harlowe’s and Ollie’s thoughts. I’m starting to think there’s some connection. But I don’t dwell on that now. I reach for the knob of the unlocked door and push it open. Ransom is behind his desk, sitting in his imposing leather chair, when I slip inside.
Plasma
“You can’t do this!” My voice sounds breathless, and I’m shaking. I was a lot more confident about this on my jog over here. Now I feel like someone who’s about to accuse the head of her boarding school of something unthinkable. And criminal.
Ransom looks up from his desk, which is littered with vials and tubing. Next to him is an IV pole with a bag hanging from it. My stomach turns at the sight of it. What kind of illicit medical procedure is going on here?
“Emmaline? May I help you?” He doesn’t make any moves to hide the medical equipment or try to mask what he’s doing. For some reason, that makes me feel even sicker.
I hate this man and his hypocrisy. I stare at him, bracing myself to hear his thoughts again. But nothing comes. I’m starting to think that this thing—this disturbing ability—is entirely out of my control.
“I know what you’re about to do,” I say before I lose my nerve. I feel my cheeks flushing, and I don’t take my hand off the doorknob. Gripping it is the only thing keeping me from running straight out of here. “I bet Principal Fleischer told you last year, didn’t she? About how I discovered the Similars in the abandoned science building? Hooked up to all those machines? I know the Huxleys have been funding your research, if you can even call it that. Personally, I’d call it exploitation.”
“Emmaline,” Ransom warns. “It would really be in your best interests to return to the masquerade ball. I don’t remember inviting you into my office. Do you?”
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