“It’s the perfect time. Guys, look!” Esther held her phone out to show the gathered Brethren the series of pictures Susan had just sent of the treasure trove of goods up in Jasper’s room. Esther swiped through the pictures. “We didn’t take your stuff! It’s all here in Jasper’s room, ready to be sold for a profit.”

“OK.” Reggie shrugged, and the others exchanged somewhat resigned glances, mumbling apologies to Daisy and Esther before peering a little more closely at the bag in Esther’s hand and asking if she had any more packets of crisps with her.

But Daisy wasn’t done. Slamming the “Book of Zoise” shut with a clap, she straightened her spine, her gaze blazing out across the room.

“Are you just going to accept this?” When Daisy spoke, Esther gave her an admiring glance.

The Brethren stopped their shuffling about and arguing over crisps and turned to look up at her, and for a moment, Daisy felt the same heady surge of power that Jasper must have felt at the start of every session, faces turned toward him in hushed adoration, waiting for him to proclaim their fate.

“How many of us came here because we needed somewhere to belong?” There was an almost universal avoiding of her gaze. “Because it was hard fitting in, because we missed home, because we weren’t sure we were doing the right thing? We’re first-year students! That’s how we’re supposed to feel. Jasper and Elise know this—they were freshmen once, too. But instead of reassuring us, telling us that it’s normal to feel like this, they took advantage.”

“How is giving us free weed taking advantage?” someone piped up.

“You knew?” Daisy frowned, but her confusion was overshadowed by Esther’s dramatics.

“IT’S NOT FREE! They’re getting you to hand over all your stuff and selling it online. Zoise is nothing more than a front for a fencing ring! You’re neck-deep in the criminal underworld!”

Technically they were comfortably seated in the basement of a well-to-do suburb of Sheffield, but Esther had never been one to let the facts get in the way of a good narrative. Which meant it was probably best not to let her control that narrative.

“The point is,” Daisy persisted, “they knew we were vulnerable, and they exploited us. The belt system is set up to encourage us to give and give and give, until we have nothing left and we’re asked to leave. We might be numbed to the world while we’re down here, high on cookies and meditation, but the reason we came here—to university—wasn’t to avoid the rest of the world; it was to explore it. And I don’t know about you, but I prefer my friends not to drug me without my consent.”