Yes, it was grand—even despite the nasty urban rot surrounding it. Across the street was a series of restaurants and lesser hotels that hadn’t seen a customer in fifty years, boarded and blackened with pollution and mildew. Down the road both ways I saw only more of the same, and except for the large parking garage next to the station, it seemed that everything for blocks around was decrepit and deserted.

But the station. I was grudgingly impressed.

Our teachers ushered us into the lobby. By then my neck was aching, but I couldn’t stop myself. An enormous domed ceiling in gold-and-red glass loomed above us, and even the most cynical of students gaped at the glittering glass-and-iron chandeliers. I finally dropped my head and saw my own reflection in the polished marble floor.

The guide started talking in a squeaky old-man voice that matched his appearance in every way. “In 1840,” he began, and my mind was already wandering. God, to have stood so long, to have seen and survived so much, only to be turned into a cheesy hotel. It was positively criminal.

With increasing irritation, I sensed someone pressing close to me in the crowd. For once I was actually listening to the lesson and enjoying it, and I didn’t want anyone interrupting. I shuffled forward a foot or two towards the front, but April followed me. I knew it was her. I could smell her expensive cherry lip balm even before I saw her, and everyone else knew enough to leave me alone.

I tried to ignore her, but when she whispered into my ear there was little I could do to pretend she wasn’t there.

“So it’s you, huh? You’re the one everyone was talking about.”

I nodded, acknowledging that I’d heard her without admitting guilt. I kept my eyes forward, still dutifully watching our guide. “Maybe.”

“It is you. I knew it was.”

“Then why’d you ask?” I muttered over my shoulder, still refusing to face her.

“Why didn’t you just say yes?”

I didn’t answer, hoping without real hope that she might go away.

“Why did your cousin try to kill you?” she asked bluntly.

The question startled me so much I evaded an answer without even meaning to. “How did you know he was my cousin?” I hadn’t even known it until the trial was over, and I’d found out in the privacy of my kitchen. What did this girl know, anyway?

“Everybody knows. They said it on the news. And they said your mother was in a crazy hospital when she had you. They said she was only a teenager and she died and you don’t even know who your father is. They said your cousin thought you were a wicked witch and that’s why he did it.”