“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, Layla,” Nyx says, and her gaze is direct and probing. “I thought you were the smart twin. But every time I turn around I think you’re less neutral than the day before.” There is no showmanship in Nyx’s approach the way there is when Brendan is toying with someone. And she doesn’t look back at her friends for approval and solidarity the way Charles usually does. She’s direct. You can tell she says what she means and a threat is a threat.

I look from Nyx to Layla, and it’s obvious by Layla’s expression and rigid posture that whatever Nyx is talking about is important. Then it clicks. Neutral. Ash used that word when he asked me about my Strategia Family politics—he said “for, against, or neutral.”

Charles is standing next to Nyx, and he’s a good foot and a half taller than she is. He’s also right between us and the door. “I think maybe Layla always fell on the wrong side of politics, and that it just took her sloppy friend here to shine a light on it.” The contradiction between his silky voice and the words he chose makes me do a double take. He’s like a toddler, cursing with a smile.

One look at Layla and it’s clear she wishes she could disappear.

“Sloppy?” I say, boisterously enough that the whole ominous mood breaks. “Pshhht. If you’re trying to insult me, you’re going to have to be more creative than that.” They all look at me with dagger eyes, but I don’t care. I’m just happy to take the heat off Layla for a second. I owe her that much at least. “I met an eight-year-old a couple of weeks ago who called me a Skittle fart. Now that’s creativity.”

“Every time you open your mouth,” Brendan says, spreading his hands out like he has an audience of four hundred instead of four, “it only confirms the fact that you don’t belong here.”

“Just because you—” I start, but the door opens and a middle-aged woman I’m assuming is the professor walks in with three more students behind her. I shut my mouth and the five of us break apart, like we were never talking in the first place.

I knew these three would be a problem for me, but I never thought they’d target Layla because of me. I watch Layla, who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am, and wish I could apologize. But I know that at this point the situation has escalated beyond what an “I’m sorry” can fix.

“So you’re all here but you’re still wearing your cloaks,” the professor says. “I shouldn’t have to remind you to always be prepared.”