I turned to look for an escape route, but the bench was surrounded. I started to worry about being late for dinner. Laura would be angry. And where was Agatha? Oh, God, we’d lost Agatha! The last time I’d seen her, she’d been in her wheelchair. And now she’d been swallowed by the lilies.

Then, suddenly, there was movement to my left.

Agatha came out of the flowers.

She stared down at me impassively.

“Go back to the green wing,” she said.

My eyes popped open.

I was alone in my dark little room. It was nearly midnight.

Go back to the green wing.

The words had sounded too real in the dream, like they’d crossed over into my sleep from the real, waking world. But of course I was alone, so that was impossible.

I crept across the nursery to the door and went to turn the knob—

But it was locked.

I stared at it, trying to figure out if I was right or wrong and if I was right, why? Why had Laura locked us in?

Barrett was gone. Her son was safe from my peasant wiles.

What trouble could I possibly get into now?

CHAPTER

23

“I’VE BEEN THINKING that what we need is a change,” Laura said. “Would you like more eggs?”

She held the platter out to me in midair, so I had no choice but to take some more eggs, although I’d already eaten a full serving.

“Agatha has her doctor’s appointment today,” she said. “But after that, let’s do something fun. We could have a dance party. Or play cards.”

This was the part where a bad orphan would answer sullenly, distracted from her duties by her brooding sadness. Or demand to know why the bedroom door had been locked—if it even had been locked. It opened easily enough that morning.

But me? I’m a good orphan. “Yeah,” I said. “Sounds fun.”

Laura beamed at me. “It’s such a gift to have you here with us. You’re really just like family, you know.”

“I was actually wondering if we could figure out some things today,” I said. “Maybe my school enrollment. I might need a physical—although that would be ridiculous, considering how much time I’ve spent in hospitals this year.”

It was meant to be a joke. But it didn’t land.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh—I just mean, you’d think they’d learned everything they needed to back after the accident.” Way to wreck a joke, Laura.

“No,” Laura said. “About the enrollment? We don’t have anything to do. It’s all set up.”

“It is? Oh, wow, okay. Great.” That was something to wrap my head around. And worry about. “When’s the first day?”

She smiled. “Whenever you like.”

Uh.

“No, I mean—when does the school year start? I can just start when everyone else starts.”