I take off my wig and shove it in my bag, pulling my coat hood up in its place. Then I zigzag us around the back of my house along a sheltered path that provides maximum coverage. I put out my hand to tell Ash to stop about five feet from the cleared grass of my backyard. We both stand perfectly still and listen, scanning the forest for any sign of other Strategia.

When I’m reasonably certain that there is no immediate threat, I look at Ash and nod.

“Let’s make a run for it,” Ash says, his breath warm on my ear, and we do.

We sprint full-speed across the grass. I take the steps to my back porch two at a time, an action so familiar that despite the potential danger, a smile appears on my face. I pull my keys out of my coat pocket and without even looking at them I find the right one. I slip it into my back door, turn it, and jiggle the handle so that it doesn’t stick. In five seconds flat we’re inside my living room, Ash silently closing the door behind us.

I stop dead in my tracks, scouring my living room to be sure that no unknown threats await us. Ash moves to the bathroom, then to my dad’s bedroom, and I do the same with the kitchen and my bedroom. After we’ve opened doors and checked in closets and under the beds, certain that there isn’t a Strategia lurking there, we meet silently back in the living room, my shoulders dropping an inch.

Everything is exactly as I left it the night I departed for Academy Absconditi. Dad must have driven me to the airport and never returned. The cushy tan couch still has the red plaid blanket strewn across it, and the bowl with popcorn remnants hasn’t been cleaned. The living room smells faintly like fireplace, as it always does, and my dad’s snow boots stand on a plastic mat near the front door. For a split second I can almost believe that the Academy wasn’t real, that my aunt Jo is still alive, and that my dad is on his way home from work. The hope is so intense that I close my eyes for a second, trying to hold the moment a little longer.

“What weapons do you have here?” Ash asks, and the reality of our situation shatters my train of thought.

“Right. Uh, let’s see,” I say, reluctantly turning away from the living room. “I have a knife collection in my room.”

Ash nods. “Knives work and they’re easy to conceal. Let’s see them.”