The other elective, however, is a harder choice.

At lunch I marked stars next to Journalism and Yearbook. I’ve always been intrigued by the media. I don’t have any experience, but I’m sure I could learn the necessary programs easily enough. But then this afternoon I overheard someone say that Miranda is social editor on the school paper, and I don’t need that conflict. I erase the star next to journalism.

For some reason I also starred Ancient Greek and Tae Kwon Do. When Ms. West suggested languages and athletics this morning, they didn’t sound appealing at all. But as I read over the list, they started to look kind of interesting. Now, in the quiet of our apartment, they seem weird again. When would I ever use Greek? And my trying martial arts would probably only lead to injury—mine or someone else’s. I erase both stars.

The last star is on Pottery and Sculpture. When I was in elementary school, I always loved art classes when we got to be hands-on with clay. I was never any good at it, but it was fun. It might be a nice reprieve from the rigorous academics at Alpha. It wouldn’t do anything for my college applications, though.

I’m about to erase the remaining stars and circle Yearbook when the lock on the front door clicks open. There is no other sound, just the whisper of a breeze against my back as the door soundlessly swings open. I know it’s Thane. No one moves as quietly as my brother. He’s like a ninja cat burglar.

If we paired his stealth with my computer skills, we could be an epic spy team.

“Hey, Thane,” I say without turning around. I draw a dark circle around my elective choice. “How was school?”

“Fine.”

Did I mention that Thane isn’t big on talking either? Some days I think he’s a recovering mime. But I know he’s just really thoughtful. He spends a lot of time in his head. He also has some emotional baggage—protective walls that none of us have been able to fully crack. We chip pieces away from time to time, but mostly his life before he came to live with us is a well-guarded mystery.

“You must be Grace,” another, brighter boy voice says. “Thane told me all about you.”

Jerking back from the table and nearly knocking my chair over, I turn to see who Thane has brought home.

My breath catches in my throat.