She laughs. “So, tell me about yourself. You from Blue Falls?” Her eyes are curious, not spiteful or mean, and her tone is interested and friendly, like she actually wants to talk to me. I’m still wary. But there’s no passive-aggressive politeness to her words, unlike everyone else I’ve met, including her brother, who seems to hate every second in my company. Except for earlier when he was trying to be nice. Probably so he could suss out my weak spots for eventual attack and pillage.

“Yes. I was born here.”

Her head tilts. “Huh. I’ve never seen you around.”

“That’s intentional.”

She grins. “Were you homeschooled or what?”

“For a time. I started at Blue Falls High sophomore year.”

She watches me, lips pursed. “I really hope you win this whole competition thing.”

My brows lift to my hairline. “But Fitz is your brother.”

She shrugs. “Little brother. By three years.”

“He’s still family,” I point out.

“He’s a pain in the ass. Besides, this whole situation is good for him.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because his heretofore blissful existence has basically been shattered. I mean, come on, Reese. If you’re from here and you went to Blue Falls High, you know how Fitz and Abby are. Or were, I guess. He thought she was the most important thing in his life, and now he’s seeing her for what she truly is. Now maybe he can move on and be happy. I don’t think he even realizes how unhappy he’s been.”

I’m not sure how to respond. She’s talking so openly and I’m not used to having candid conversations like this with someone I barely know.

“Maybe I can help you, even. If the opportunity arises.”

“You want to help me beat him?”

“Yes.”

“You want him to lose.”

“Sometimes losing is better than winning. You can’t grow without a little pain.”

A faint glimmer of guilt moves through me. Conspiring with Fitz’s sister to make him lose? I would feel terrible if Scarlett pitted herself against me. On the other hand, it’s not my fault Annabel is offering her assistance, just like it’s not my fault Fitz is having a hard go of it.

I’m a victim of circumstance. As a matter of fact, he triggered all of this to begin with.

I firm my resolve with a nod. “Right. How, exactly, are you going to help me?”

She shrugs. “I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. But it won’t hurt to have someone in your corner, don’t you think?”

The slam of a door yanks me from the only hour of sleep I’ve gotten all night.

The couch is worse than not good.

Not good is an understatement of gigantic proportions.

Scientific notation would be necessary to quantify how awful it is.

The noise-canceling headphones don’t help when people don’t see you and accidently sit on your face. Which has happened more than once. And I don’t think always accidently.