“Put down your paper, Christopher!” my mom exclaims. “We have a date with the snow!”

“What kind of missions did you go on with your parents?” I ask, fairly certain that missions in my house were different than in his.

“Mostly espionage,” Ash says. “They taught us how to negotiate for information and how to move around undetected.”

I nod, wondering if my parents would have done the same if my mom had lived longer. While my dad did train me in his own way, I still don’t understand why he didn’t tell me the truth about being Strategia.

“Order all the things,” I say, motioning to the menu in his hand. “I’m starved.”

He grins and I once again get pulled into his inviting look. “All the things it is.”

I smile back. “And stop looking at me like that, all attractive and what have you. It’s not fair.”

Ash laughs. “Got it. Food. Stop being attractive. And start dressing differently.”

“Right,” I say. “And if that doesn’t work we’ll just figure out a way to cover your face with something. That way I’ll be able to think clearly without wanting to kiss you. Now work on your list. I’m going to get ready so we can get out of here.” I walk back into the bedroom and hear Ash chuckling to himself.

I stand in the middle of the modern room for a few seconds, staring at my plaid duffel bag, not yet acclimated to this unfamiliar familiar world. The last time I was in Connecticut, I was at peace. My world was small. My family was small. And I had everything I needed. None of those things are true now.

I touch the back of my head, fish out the lock of hair Layla gave me from my own braid, and hold it to my heart like it might have the answers I’m looking for, or at least help me find my footing.

Chapter Seven

THE CLOSER WE get to my hometown, the more my stomach churns. For the past hour, I’ve been resisting the urge to look over my shoulder at the other passengers, wondering what type of threat might be lurking there. Instead, I fidget in my seat and tap the armrest with my fingers, unable to sit still. Ever since we left the hotel I’ve had this uneasy, vulnerable feeling, as though something ominous and deadly might spring out of every shadow. Ash insisted it would be unlikely that a fellow Strategia would be on the bus with us, but he also insisted I wear a wig, which he just happened to have in his luggage, like it’s common to pack disguises alongside travel-sized deodorant.