“Not all of us can afford to skip every period.” I force a grin, but the words come out more barbed than I mean them to. “Sorry—it’s just…I hate feeling this useless.”

Taika the Talentless, Taika the Talentless, the voice blasts through my brain. If only it came with volume control or a mute button.

“I need some time to think,” I add. “Can we still meet at lunch?”

“Of course.”

“See you then.”

He gives me a salute and I watch him amble down the corridor, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, clearly in no hurry.

I can only imagine what it must feel like being that powerful, knowing you’re so naturally gifted you don’t even need to try, and people will still treat you like a god. It must feel amazing knowing you’ll end up a successful mage one day, leading a division of the UCMW or taking over your parents’ empire.

Every time I think about my future, as much as I dream about winning a Pulitzer, I know I’ll probably wind up creating “What kind of pizza topping are you?” quizzes for people bored on social media. At least, that’s what Toivo tells me every time I mention wanting to be a journalist. It’s not fair.

And it’s not fair Natalie kept that picture of the two of us. This would be so much easier if she hated me and I could pretend I didn’t care what happened to her.

9

I expect to find Morgan surrounded by a group of friends, all with ripped jeans and skateboards, chatting, laughing, and generally enjoying

their status as school royalty.

Instead, he sits alone at a corner table by the window, his gaze on the courtyard where the younger grades are having recess. Milky sunshine seeps through the clouds, grazing the windows and illuminating his face as he pushes the day’s insipid bolognese around his plate with a fork.

I take a moment to scan the cafeteria, wondering once again if this is some sort of joke. Are his friends all going to pounce the moment I sit down? A few stray glances wander my way from the other tables. Of course, Natalie isn’t here, and I look away when Ekaterina notices me staring.

“Hey.” I slip my tray onto the table but don’t sit down yet. “This seat taken?”

“Hey, tervetuloa.” Morgan smiles. His Finnish pronunciation is awful but I appreciate the welcome nonetheless. “And no, it’s completely free.”

“Where are your friends?” Still nervous, I’m tempted to look over my shoulder.

“You’re it.” There’s a weight to the way he says it that makes me think maybe he isn’t as popular as I thought.