When I explain how my brother died, I feel like I’m collecting ashes from his funeral pyre, clawing through the hot cinders of his life with my bare hands.

Gem and Nelinha sit on either side of me. Ester, still quietly sniffling, sits on Nelinha’s right. I don’t know if Ester is crying because of Dr. Hewett’s condition, or the loss of the school, or the scary new place and new people she is having to deal with. All are solid reasons.

As usual, the other two prefects should be in on this conversation, but they seem content to let Ester and Nelinha be their stand-ins. Franklin remains in the sick bay, tending to Dr. Hewett. Tia Romero, bless her, is playing aunt to everybody. She’s herding the rest of the crew around, making sure they don’t get zapped by lasers or mechanical dragonflies as they settle into the base.

When I’m done with my story, Luca and Ophelia give each other a long look. They don’t seem surprised by anything I’ve told them. Their expressions convey grim vindication, as if they’ve been fearing this news for years.

Ophelia adjusts her steel-rimmed glasses. She sets her elbows on the table and laces her fingers, letting her bangles cascade down her forearms. “Ana, I’m so sorry. You deserved better from us.”

Her tone surprises me almost as much as her apology. She sounds angry and bitter, which makes me realize how much of those emotions I’ve been holding inside for the past three days. I swallow back the taste of bile. I guess it’s a welcome change from debilitating sorrow.

“What did I deserve?” I ask. “Maybe the truth?”

Luca frowns into his cup of espresso. “Certo. La veritá. Ma non è così semplice, cara mia.”

“Why not?” I demand. “It seems pretty simple to me. Why did Dev have to keep silent about what he knew? Why did Ester have to live with her secrets?”

Ester blushes.

I realize maybe I should not have put her on the spot like that, which makes me scowl even harder at Ophelia. “And do not tell me the school was trying to protect me.”

Ophelia shakes her head. “No, Ana. The school was trying to protect itself.”

“And you went along with it.”

Gem clears his throat, a subtle warning that my tone is getting aggressive. I’m not sure why I’m so angry at Luca and Ophelia. I barely know them. They’ve been kind to us so far, aside from the threats of annihilation.

With a sigh, Luca dips a biscotto in his espresso. “Ana, when your parents died…Ophelia and I were here with them. We were part of their team.”