“What?” I recoil, and my chest tightens with icy dread.

“You act like my life is over because I didn’t get into college on my first try, and now I’m going to a non-licensing college,” she continues. “I’m going to be fine, Shay. I’m sorry I’m not as smart and perfect as you, but going to a non-licensing college does not make me a failure.”

I feel the pain in her voice like a slap to the face. “I never thought you were a failure,” I say softly. “I just wanted you to go to a good school. You’re really smart. And super good at magic.”

Her steely gaze doesn’t lighten. “I know you hold yourself to these ridiculously high standards, but not everybody is going to have the same goals as you. Maybe I’ll never go to a licensing college.”

Ridiculously high standards? My standards for myself might be high, but they’re not ridiculously high. And what is she saying about never going to a licensing college? That’s a massive change from what her goals were before. “But you probably won’t get as good of a job without a license,” I say hesitantly.

At that, she softens slightly. “I know that’s a really big deal for you, but it’s not the same for me,” she says. “If I don’t make a lot of money, it’s not the end of the world. I just want to have a job I like.”

“Oh,” I say, and it sounds like the air has been knocked out of me. I suddenly realize that there’s a fundamental difference in our thinking here. A licensing college is my ticket to a better life for me and my family. But Lex and her family already have that better life.

The little illusion of Lex, somehow imposing despite its size, stares me down. “You know it’s fine to go to a regular college, right?”

I gape at her, baffled. No, I don’t know that. What has my time at T. K. Anderson taught me if not that there is only one path to success? If you get into a licensing college, they put you on the school website as a success story. If you don’t, you might as well be dead.

“Okay,” she says, and her disappointment cuts through me. “So you think that all the people who don’t get into licensing colleges are stupid and lazy.”

“No!” I protest.

“Oh, so it’s fine for other people to go, but if I go, then I’m not living up to my potential?” she snaps, her eyes flashing dangerously. In those words, I hear an echo of what I’m sure her parents are saying to her. I feel small and horribly mean.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I really didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”