I falter, no comeback in sight. In the end, I give up. “I gotta go,” I mutter. I pick up my tray and leave, ignoring the look of disappointment on Alice’s face.

That night I lie in bed with the window open, twisting my hair and listening to the shouts and conversations on the busy sidewalk below. Old East is close to the north perimeter, so I suppose every week we’ll be able to hear the undergrads leaving the campus grounds and heading to the main drag for the bars and clubs. For a moment, I wonder if I’ll hear the Legendborn. Maybe they’ll go back to the biergarten to celebrate the end of the Trials.

I make myself imagine the gala, even though it hurts. A grand room, hundreds of people in formal wear. A stage. When I imagine Nick in a tuxedo and bow tie, I curl into a tight ball of want on my bed. I lean into the vision to remind myself of the loss. I see him. Tall, handsome, and—for a short while, a quick moment, a heartbeat—mine.

On the other side of the room, Alice’s snores are light and even. I know she’s right. I don’t have homeostasis. I don’t have equilibrium, no matter the stimuli. Patricia knew it, saw it, and wanted nothing of it.

My agony has a hunger, I’ve discovered. It doesn’t want the truth. Not really. It just wants to feed itself sorrow until no other emotion is left.

My father calls before eight on Friday morning. He knows I don’t have an early class on Fridays, but he rarely calls me before noon, especially this close to the weekend when his shop is busiest.

“Dad?” I say, holding my phone to my ear as I pull on a pair of jeans.

“Hey, kiddo.” I half expect to hear the heavy clink of a dropped tool on concrete and the high-pitched whirr-whine of a pneumatic wrench, but there’s nothing like that. “You busy?”

“Nope. My first class is at ten. What’s up?”

“Come have breakfast with me. My treat.”

I chuckle. “If only.”

“Naw, kid. Meet me downstairs and bring your books.”

I freeze. “You’re here?”

“Yep. Sittin’ in the lot.”

“… why are you here?”

“Oh, just in the area.”

It’s a four-hour drive, and if he’s here, that means he took off work. No “in the area” about it. I close my eyes and sigh. “Alice.”

“Is a good friend,” he finishes with a warm laugh. “Better hurry before one of these meter cops gives me a ticket.”