“Hmm,” she said. “I think you should let them. The work comes first, you know.”

“Um—I’ll try it.” Nobody had ever given me permission to step outside the rules of the Academy.

“Can I tell you something else that I’ve learned?” she whispered, eyes on fire.

“Sure.” I leaned in.

“These people”—she twirled that plaster-dusted fingernail ever so slightly to indicate the entire room—“these people will make not only your work, but you yourself into a commodity. They’ll buy you and sell you. Let them. But make sure you always do it on your own terms.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, the other four members of Pine City were looking at us—the rays of their eyes burned my skin—and Carey closed up.

“You can go,” she pronounced somberly, like a nun at school, and I did.

As I headed for the door, dodging the elbows of a cluster of drunk bankers, their suit jackets off, ties loose, Tyler Savage wrapped an arm around Carey Logan’s waist and held her one inch above the floor, like she was floating, and he whispered something. They were steps behind me, and when she laughed, this big, open laugh, I stopped and turned at the sound. They didn’t notice me. She placed her hand on his cheek, and then—almost as if it was the first time, and maybe it was—they held each other against the wall and kissed so deeply that I knew I ought to look away.

I didn’t think anyone would ever love me like that, or treat me with so much care.

Somehow, I got a ride the four blocks back to the bus stop in time, doubled on the handlebars of a stranger who kissed me! hard! before pedaling away without so much as an introduction. And though it wasn’t the same as being kissed by someone like Tyler Savage or Carey Logan, I grinned the whole way back to the Academy.

That was when I decided I would move to New York.

*  *  *