Irritated by the bolt of electricity the recollection sends through me, I yank the covers over my head.

“Don’t remind me.” I peek at her from under the blanket. “Everyone who bet on me probably hates me now.” And they’ll never know how close I came to winning. I realize I want everyone at Keystone—and beyond—to know I can beat Garrett, that I’m good at this. Ugh. The Influencer in me will never die.

“You’re too hard on yourself. They knew what they were doing. It’s called gambling for a reason. You were a long shot.” She jumps out of bed, surprisingly perky after last night’s celebration. I barely remember her coming in; I finished crying myself to sleep hours before she returned. The post-Quest adrenaline dump combined with journaling really did a number on me. It couldn’t also be because I lost… I’m not that pathetic, am I? I went after something I wanted, and I lost, but I tried my best. It should be enough…

“And you beat Kyran and Chloe. That’s something,” she says, rummaging through her dresser drawer. “Kyran wouldn’t have come close if he hadn’t followed you or if he’d had to crack Tut’s lock by himself. Think about that.”

“I don’t want to think about any of it.”

“Too bad. You’re what everyone is talking about. I don’t think you can escape it.”

“Wonderful.”

I watch her pull on tall black boots and a full skirt. Today is a rare street-clothes day. After our partners are announced at the assembly this morning, we have the day free. It’s our last break before it’s full steam ahead on our heists.

Rayelle examines her backside in the mirror and smiles. Seeming satisfied with herself, she fixes her eyes on me. “Come on. Get up.” She marches over and rips the covers off me. “We don’t want to be late.”

“I do.”

She rolls her eyes. “Get dressed. You’ll feel better. What are you going to wear? Don’t you want to look special for your partner?”

“No. I’ll probably get stuck with Liam.” Grimacing, I snatch my blanket back. “Besides, I don’t have anything to wear.” Except for the Balenciaga, and that’s not happening. “I didn’t know we were ever supposed to look normal.”

“You can borrow something from me.” She tugs on my arm. “You have to go to the assembly. It’s mandatory.”

I sigh, wishing she wasn’t right. “Fine.” Heaving myself to the floor, I rummage through Rayelle’s open drawer, selecting a pair of baggy jeans and a Cirque du Soleil T-shirt. Not bothering with makeup, I tie my hair into a squat ponytail and plop back onto the bed, waiting until she finishes.

Rayelle frowns. “That’s it?”

I shrug. “I’m not trying to impress anyone.”