Ana pokes me in the side during AP Transfiguration just as I’ve fallen asleep again. “You alive there?” she whispers, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes. Yes, I am very alive,” I snap.

“Someone’s cranky.” She pushes her curls out of her face and continues to take notes.

I tune back in to the lecture. It seems like our teacher, Mrs. Lee, is on another one of her tangents about safety.

“I’ve been looking at the proposals some of you have submitted for your upcoming project, and I would like to once again remind you that transfiguration at your level is permanent. You do not have the skills to return things to their original forms without degrading the molecules.” Mrs. Lee presses her mouth into a very thin line. “I refuse to be the teacher with a death toll because you insisted on de-transfiguring as a beginner and spontaneously created carbon monoxide. I don’t care how impressive you think it will look on your college resume.”

When I glance at the board, I realize I’ve missed a good chunk of the material for today. My notes so far have weird scribbles where I fell asleep mid-word, and there are all these gaps in what I’ve written. I rub my hand across my face tiredly.

Ana slides her notebook across the lab table toward me. “You can copy mine.”

I shake my head and push the notebook back.

She pushes it toward me again, locking eyes with me. “Don’t worry—even if you copy my notes, I’ll still do better than you on the test.”

I scoff and yank the notebook from her. No matter how much she annoys me, her notes are excellent. Mrs. Lee’s eyes land on me, and I try to look like I’m paying attention.

“And no, you cannot transfigure anything alive for your project,” Mrs. Lee says. “Or anything adjacent to being alive. If you are questioning whether it counts as being alive, it’s not an option. You won’t be trying that kind of thing until your magic level is over seventy. Remember, you signed a waiver to be in this class.” Mrs. Lee gives us all an ominous look. “If something goes wrong, I will be fine. You will be dead.”

And on that cheery note, I scribble down the missing sections into my notes and return Ana’s notebook to her.

“You’re welcome,” Ana says, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes at her and return to the important task of desperately trying to stay conscious. I do pretty well for a bit, but then I blink for too long and Ana has to poke me awake again.