“What?” She looks surprised and offended, and this time, I can’t blame her.

I try to backtrack—“I mean…”

Niamh … Niamh is Brody. I didn’t even know Brody had a first name. (I mean, of course Brody had a first name.) The girls my age were afraid to speak to her. She was our best attacker. Six foot one, built like a brick wall. Crowley, her thighs were a wonder—you could serve tea on them. And she had this short, platinum-blond hair, all quiffed up like Niall Horan.

“I mean…” I say again, “your hair.”

Niamh touches her dark brown bun. “Oh. Well. I got tired of bleaching it. And getting it razored every three weeks. Vet school is a grind.”

Brody. Niamh is Brody. She was absolutely merciless on the field. She plowed into me once. I had time to get out of the way, but I was paralyzed with fear when she came bearing down on me. Her face was all red. White hair, black eyebrows. That monstrous nose. I should have recognized that nose!

“You shoved me once,” I say.

Niamh shrugs. “I shoved everyone.”

“Like, really shoved me.”

She brushes some grass off her boots. “It was lacrosse.”

“A noncontact sport.”

“Yeah, the way you played it.”

“Hey,” I object, “I was good at lacrosse!”

Niamh looks at me again. Gimlet-eyed, even in sunglasses. “Were you really?”

“Not in fifth year, but eventually.”

“Huh.” Niamh doesn’t look like she believes me. It’s a very Brody look.

“Our team went to Nationals my last year!” I insist.

“That’s nice,” she says. “The closest I got to Nationals was seventh year. We had to cancel our qualifying match because your boyfriend brought home a werewolf, and the whole school was quarantined.”

“He didn’t bring it home; he fought it in the dining hall.” I keep leaning towards her to make my arguments, but none of them are landing. “He fought four!”

Niamh shrugs. “The match was cancelled.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get the lupine virus.”

“I was vaccinated. The whole team was vaccinated!”

“Well, don’t take it out on me,” I say. “I didn’t cancel your precious lacrosse match.”

“You were part of the goings-on.”

My mouth drops open. “I. Was. Kidnapped.”

Niamh rolls her eyes, very meaningfully, like what I’ve just said is both irrelevant and ludicrous.

I lean towards her again. “What was that? Do you not believe I was kidnapped?”

“We all believed you were kidnapped … the first time.”

“The first—Are you serious?”

Niamh is holding her hands up. “It doesn’t matter, Agatha. It’s ancient history.”

“As the person who was actually kidnapped, multiple times, it doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago.”

“Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it. I’m sure it was very dramatic for your whole … circle.”