Scarlett tries staying strong, but she cracks. Something else we have in common is we’re both ugly criers. I would be mortified if anyone photographed me while I was this red in the face and wiping snot whereas Scarlett might rip out someone’s eyes. Even now when it’s just us, she’s hiding behind her hand, and I can make out the moon in the background.

“Val, this doesn’t make sense. You’re fine! Why is this happening?”

I shake my head.

“Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“No. I’m not ready for another talk about how I’m going to hell.”

“They better not be self-righteous about this or we’ll never talk to them again.” That promise is alive and well in Scarlett’s eyes for a whole second before she realizes I can’t honor it with her. Or that I can, but not in the way she’s intending. The next wave of tears flood down her face. “Val, I need to catch my flight. I’ll be there by the morning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come,” I say, even though it’s the opposite of what I want. I need to say goodbye to my sister in person. I’m protective of her, though. “It might be safer for you if you don’t.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone,” Scarlett says, unlocking her car door and settling into the driver’s seat.

I’m flashing back to the day she almost died. “Scar, stop. You can’t drive in this condition. Just sit and breathe.”

Once she calms down, we take deep breaths together, until her heavy cry quiets into a whimper.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to be alone. I made some new friends in Times Square. This is Dalma’s phone and—”

Scarlett’s eyes widen, and she leans forward, like when we’re watching a thriller and she figures out the twist. “But what if they’re the reason you—”

“They’re not going to kill me. They actually convinced me to sign up for Death-Cast. They’re really good people.”

“You can’t know that. They’re strangers.”

“And despite that, Orion saved my life.”

She’s quiet, like she’s processing how she got the plot twist wrong. “What do you mean he saved your life?”

This is all scary enough. Telling her that I was shot at isn’t going to keep her calm enough to drive safely to the airport so she can catch her flight.

“I had a close call, but I’m okay.”

“No you’re not.” She closes her eyes.

I don’t ask if she’s praying. That’s her business.

“Scar, you’re going to miss your flight if you don’t leave soon.”