In her head, Tanvi tried to retreat from the soccer balls and Nitya’s words. She just wanted her bracelet—and the emptiness that surrounded it.

Instead, she backed into what felt like a school of vengeful jellyfish, tentacles tipped with spotty memories: a younger Nitya building a castle out of cardboard paper towel tubes, their parents complaining that the bowls in the dishwasher were still crusty, a summer meal of sweet-and-sour mock duck chased by raspberry water ice. Each one stung Tanvi’s heart, demanding that she look at it. That she remember.

Tanvi was cracking like an egg. Little fissures were forming all over her, and she would dribble out, drop by gooey drop, until there was nothing left. These awful dreams, these memories—it was all their fault.

She screamed, loud and long. It shredded the lining of her throat, making her cough. From the diaphragm, a familiar voice, but one she couldn’t place, floated up in her thoughts. Something about . . . singing?

Tanvi screamed again, this time from her belly, and again. She screamed her resentment and uselessness, the confusion and pointless feelings shoving through her, at this depersonalized room that could have belonged to anyone at all, at how ridiculous these unwanted, half-cooked recollections were. More than anything, she screamed at herself for being stupid enough to care.

Her head threatened to pop like a kernel of corn. She needed to get out of this box and talk to Venkat.

Tanvi had never gone to the appraisal room at night before. Night was for harvesting. She couldn’t be sure Venkat would even be there. How long did council meetings run? But she didn’t know how else to find him.

You don’t know much at all, do you?

Baring her teeth at the thought, Tanvi slunk out of the dingy passage and into the room. It was so small, like a jail cell. She shivered. The spell of the memories still lingered, and all she wanted was to be outside.

Well, that and not to be dreaming, let alone remembering.

She waited awhile, but when Venkat didn’t show up, she inspected the room. There was a small panel she’d never noticed before. Curious, she opened it a crack. Voices sounded from far off.

Maybe one of them was Venkat?

The passageway was totally different than hers, amply lit with sconces shaped like praying nagas and filled with colorful carvings. Her eyes watered, forcing her to squint as she hurried through it.

At the other end of the passageway, two massive gold doors with the royal emblem towered over her. Tanvi didn’t remember standing here before—or did she? The tangle of memories in her head pulsed, throbbing, throbbing until she pushed the question away.

The voices sounded again. Voices, plural. She couldn’t just mosey on in.

But maybe, she allowed, eyeing the doors, she didn’t have to.