Maybe the reason why I was still here instead of on a bus heading to New York or Seattle, anywhere but Denali, was because I had feelings for Carlo. Unlike me, he was one of the Hellenicus who thought that having a soul mate was a gift. And his trust in the process planted doubts in my mind that I couldn’t shake off. As if knowing that I was thinking about him, my phone buzzed. Carlo. I quickly unlocked my phone and pulled up his text. It started with his usual greeting,

Buonasera, cara mia.

That night, I decided that I wanted, more than anything, to know if Carlo was my soul mate or not. If by my birthday we did not have a click, at least I wouldn’t have to live the rest of my life haunted by what-ifs.

It was risky to have hope because hope led to expectation, which could also lead to disappointment. I’d heard about it often, how a Hellenicus went to their first Gathering certain that their significant other was their other half only to be heartbroken when they discovered their beloved was meant for someone else. And there was no guarantee that things would work out—look at Bryan’s parents; look at mine fighting all the time. I was also aware that if I went to the Gathering and my soul mate turned out to be somebody other than Carlo, my whole plan was ruined. But if I didn’t click with anyone, then I still had my savings. I could escape before next year’s Gathering, and my original plan to live in hiding among the Nescient would remain intact.

After spending most of the night mulling the pros and cons over in my mind, I woke up to the sun peeking through the slits in my blinds, my alarm ringing, and my mom’s voice shouting through my bedroom door telling me to get up. I had chosen to stay. I would go to my first Gathering. When it came to Carlo, I simply had to know.

Chapter Two

It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and I’d already lost my temper.

“Mom, I’ve told you, I’m done packing!” I hissed through gritted teeth. My mom slid the zipper around the suitcase, then dumped the contents onto my bed—every piece of clothing that I had spent hours ironing and putting neatly inside. “Why. Did. You. Do. That?”

Ignoring me, my mom tossed aside all of the old T-shirts I loved so much. She pulled out dresses and some faux-fur coats from the plastic bag she’d had with her when she had barged into my room and packed them in place of my choices.

“I’m not going to wear those.”