“Okay. Maybe this is the good stuff.” I hefted it up and peered over his shoulder as he opened it up.

“Maybe. I’m crossing—”

“Fuck.” I didn’t let him finish the thought because I knew what I was seeing and it wasn’t good.

“More scrolls.” Even Jasper sounded beyond dejected. “Okay. Let’s actually dig. There might be something hiding.”

But there wasn’t. This wasn’t a treasure hunt, and there wasn’t some secret panel on the bottom of the box hiding a cache of rare cards. Jasper checked, even going so far as to turn each of the boxes upside down. Nothing.

“All right. This isn’t an utter disaster.” The way Jasper was wringing his hands said otherwise, right along with my stomach, which was making me regret those sandwiches. I popped two mints, but the sour feeling stayed.

“How so? Bruno’s home next weekend. I’m out of time.”

“We are not out of time.” He drew his shoulders back, the commanding leader who wrangled his cosplay group into shape making an appearance. “I’ll play George and—”

“I told you. I hate that idea.” I might really enjoy bossy Jasper, but not right then, and not about my life. I pushed away from the table and stalked to the other side of the small room. “And it’s not your call.”

“Actually, it kind of is.” Jasper followed after me. “It’s my ticket to the launch party. And it’s my need to help you. Let me help you.”

“Not like that.” A faded poster on the wall welcomed newcomers to Odyssey, mocking me.

“Okay. I think you’re being stubborn, but whatever.” Jasper slumped into one of the folding chairs. I hated how defeated he sounded and was about to rub his shoulder when he added, “Maybe the best thing is to own up to what happened to Bruno.”

“No. I can’t do that.” I took three steps backward, running into the wall. “I mean, here I am, life a mess again. Lost his cards. Lost my place to live—”

“But think about what you’ve gained.” Jasper turned in his chair, eyes boring into mine. And I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he meant. Self-respect. Ambition. Pride. Friends. Him. Definitely him and everything that included, every wonderful moment of the past few weeks. But none of that was going to matter. This wasn’t one of Jasper’s equations where one side balanced the other.

“He won’t see that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. He’s been a success at everything. School. Special forces. Every sport and game he’s tried. And me? I keep messing up. And now I’m a failure. Again.”

“Gee. Tell us how you really feel.” Jasper leaped out of his chair, took a step toward me, then apparently changed his mind and stomped to the other side of the table.