“Ow,” I said, rubbing the spot where she’d pinched me. “Why did you do that?”

“He is not your One,” Calla admonished. “You are not supposed to talk to any of them.”

“I didn’t start the conversation,” I said, defending myself. “But he did ask a bunch of questions while we were dancing.”

“Well, that might happen. I guess.” Calla’s eyes narrowed, watching the boy suspiciously. “If it happens again, I would just keep my answers brief. Yes or no. Please or thank you. It is not good for us to interact with the other boys, outside of the dancing ritual.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” I said.

The boy returned to the table. He placed a cup of punch in front of both Calla and me. “Thank you,” I said. He nodded, then moved to the next girl beside me, leaving his red coin behind. “You forgot—”

Calla nudged me in the ribs.

“Cut it out,” I whispered.

“He didn’t forget. That’s his placeholder. It helps them remember which girl they started with. When he gets back to you, he’ll pick it up. That’s how we’ll know it’s time for the last dance.”

Another boy stood beside Calla, offering his hand. I chugged my punch, barely finishing it before a boy stood beside me, impatiently tapping his toe. I immediately disliked him. I tried to smooth things over by giving him a smile. He merely nodded toward the dance floor, turned, and walked away. I followed behind him, trying to rein in my irritation.

As I stood in front of him, he reached down and roughly grabbed me around my waist, pulling me against him a little too close for my comfort. I tried to step back, put some distance between us, but his strong hands just pulled me closer. All I could see were his eyes, but I knew they held a smirk. I hoped this boy was not Haden.

This waltz dragged out longer than the first. I was happy the boy was silent throughout the entirety of the dance. I didn’t trust myself to hold my temper if I opened my mouth.

When the song finally ended, the boy released me, then pointed at the table for me to return to my seat. I followed him back. He didn’t pull out my chair or ask if I’d like something to eat or drink. He moved away quickly, positioning himself beside the next girl. Her eyes were fearful. The mask on the boy’s face rose slightly as if pushed up by a rise in his cheeks, evidence of a sick smile on his hidden face.

“Play nice, Maxen,” said a boy who passed by us on his way to greet his next dance partner.

“Why?” Maxen asked.

“Because we’re all still going to be brothers tomorrow. You don’t know to which one of us each girl belongs.”