“People who are trained to use knives have expectations for themselves and others. Defy these expectations and you can win,” he continues with emphasis. “Most people mistakenly use weapons as though there are invisible boundaries or rules dictating conduct. You don’t. You integrate moves you’ve learned in soccer and secret handshakes you made up with Emily—this way of thinking is the key. Just because there isn’t a clear shot doesn’t mean you can’t win. There is always a work-around and a way to surprise your opponent. It just takes creativity and a lack of self-imposed boundaries.”

“Take what you need,” I say to Ash, but when I look up from my knife drawer, he isn’t standing next to me. “Ash?”

I turn around to find him examining my room, which I’m certain tells him all kinds of personal things about me. His expression is curious, like my things surprise him in some way he wasn’t expecting. I follow his eyes toward my picture collages and to my bookshelf, which is covered with knickknacks, my book collection on plants and trees, and my mom’s old CDs and movies, most of which are scuffed and imperfect from the countless number of times Emily and I played them. And as I look over my belongings, I realize that a month ago I would have called these things unremarkable, brushed them off as normal or griped about wanting a new iPod. But in this moment, they seem invaluable—a catalogue of my childhood imbued with more memories than I can put into words. And I wonder: Will I ever see these things again? Will I ever sit in my bed, which my dad built, listening to music with Emily and talking about our plans for the weekend?

“Okay, now, let’s see,” Ash says. He joins me at the dresser and turns his attention to the knives, nodding approvingly. “Not bad,” he says.

“You mean awesome,” I say, looking back at the drawer and the knife collection I’ve always been proud of.

He smirks. “Well, not quite as good as mine,” he says. “But only because you’re missing some collector’s pieces.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Are you trying to make me jealous? Because it’s working.”

“Or trying to convince you to come and visit my house in Egypt when this is all over,” he says with a sly grin.

I look at him sideways. “You think your parents would be okay with that?”

“With you? The disowned firstborn of the Lion and Bear Families that everyone’s hunting…what could they possibly object to?” But I can hear in his voice that even though he’s making light of it, this mess with my family is a big deal. At present, there is nowhere I belong in the Strategia world.