“No,” I say vehemently. She lied for me? I don’t understand why she went so far out of her way to cover up what I did out there.

“Right,” she says, and I can practically hear her raising her eyebrows at me in her voice. “You know those things are dangerous, yeah? He’s not a good apothecary.”

“Yeah, I know,” I snap.

“Okay,” she says, and I’m lost for a moment. Where’s the classic Ana Álvarez sarcastic remark?

A sharp pain lances through my brain. I hiss audibly, my body tensing against this sudden-onset headache.

“You okay?” Ana asks.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask, opening my eyes slightly. The tile floor shines with a multicolored latticework. I keep my gaze trained there, with Ana’s scuffed black loafers in the corner of my vision.

“Um, something bad happened to you?” she says, a note of amusement entering her voice. She shifts, and I see a little more of her crossed legs peeking under the stall door.

“No, I’m serious,” I say loudly. My heart is still pounding too quickly. I wish it would calm down, because it’s making me even more anxious than I already am.

“Okay?”

“Why? We’re, like, nemesises,” I blurt out.

She snickers. “Nemesises?”

“Nemeses. Whatever.”

“Literally what are you talking about?”

“We’re enemies! We compete for the same stuff all the time, and you’re always making fun of me, and we both want the scholarship, and—and—” I’ve run out of stuff to say, but now I’m breathing hard and raring to unleash hell. “You’re my nemesis, okay? You’re mean to me, and I’m mean to you. So why are you being nice to me?”

We sit there in silence. My head throbs. I glance at her foot, wondering what she’s thinking. Will she leave me alone now?

A quiet sound comes from the other side of the door. My brow furrows in confusion. And then she bursts into hysterical laughter, cackling so hard that she gasps for breath.

“Why are you laughing at me?” I yelp, so enraged that I stomp my foot like an angry toddler.

“I’m s-such an idiot,” she hiccups out through her laughter. “I th-thought we were friends.”

“What?” I say incredulously.

She gets her laughter under control and sighs. “Or, like, friendly rivals?”

“How?” I say, my jaw hanging to the floor. “We fight all the time.”

“I thought it was banter?”

“Banter? You’re mean to me.”

“I dunno—I thought it was, like, our thing.” A small giggle breaks out of her. “I can’t believe you actually hated me all this time.”

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious about this.”