“I spoke to your little birdies,” the larger girl whispers while Darcy gulps down her coffee. “They’re on their way.”

“Gracias mucho.” Darcy slaps the empty tin cup to the table. Before Lacrishia can top anyone else off, two Beginners trot over from their respective tables and slide into ours. Vance, the Beginner who melted down during this morning’s run, sandwiches himself between Molly and the swaggering trans boy from Expulsion. Lacrishia casts me another warm, bashful smile before floating back to the kitchen with her coffee pot.

“What is this, your secret Mission: Impossible team?” Molly asks, frowning as Vance nudges closer.

“Well, Miss Comments,” Darcy says, “actually yes.”

“Hi, Marcos,” Vance greets my seatmate, who’s grown even more sullen since they sat down. Vance stares, smiling, his eyes glistening like he’s a kitten who’s decided it’s finally time for his attention. Is he flirting? This jellybean might be just some eighth grader, but nevertheless, noxious chemicals flood my brain as it enters Jealous Attack Mode.

Am I really jealous of a middle schooler flirting with a guy who isn’t my boyfriend? I’m truly in a great place mentally right now.

Darcy knocks the table, and we snap to attention. “This is Vance Olmos, and next to him is Jack Singer.” Darcy waits a pregnant moment before Jack smirks and leans in to clarify:

“You’ve heard me called a different name in class. If you want to use that name, Nightlight certainly would love that. But if you do, you’re not with us. Call me Jack and you are.” The dare doesn’t rest on the table long. Molly, Marcos, and I smile and whisper, “Hey, Jack” in unison. “Yay,” Jack says with a grin as he wiggles a toothpick between his incisors, every inch of him a rascal. Another strong gust of relief blows into my head knowing that Jack, like Darcy and Lacrishia, is putting on an act for Nightlight and isn’t as conflicted as his Expulsion story had Briggs believe.

“Connor, let our birdies know what you need them to find and where they can find it,” Darcy instructs as if this is some business meeting.

“Uh, not sure what you’re asking,” I say, “but I’m not putting these, like, twelve-year-olds in harm’s way—”

The Beginners flinch at the insinuation that they’re anything as common or tawdry as twelve, but Darcy speaks for them: “They’re thirteen and fourteen, and you can’t be the spy, new guy. Everyone’s watching you.”

“I’m with Connor,” Molly says. “If we all work together, we can easily just steal the boat—”