“She was front and center in that fashion show.”

“She had a mask on.” His dark eyes studied me. “You guys don’t look alike at all.”

“We get that a lot.”

Trey still looked troubled, and I had no idea why. “You’re smart to keep her out of modeling,” he said at last. “She’s too young.”

“It’s a religious thing,” I said, knowing Trey wouldn’t quiz me for many details on our “faith.”

“Whatever it is, keep her out of the public eye.” He scrawled his name on the lab and shut his textbook. “You don’t want her plastered all over magazines or something. Lots of creepy people out there.”

Now I was the one left staring. I agreed with him. Too much exposure meant the Moroi dissidents could find Jill. But why would Trey feel that way, too? His claims that she was too young were sound, I supposed, but there was something vaguely unsettling about the exchange. The way he’d watched her walk away was too weird. But then, what other reason aside from concern could he have?

The normality of the next couple of days was welcome—normality being relative around here, of course. Adrian kept sending me e-mails, asking me to rescue him (while also offering unsolicited dating advice). Ms. Terwilliger continued her passive aggressive attempts to teach me magic. Eddie continued in his fierce dedication to Jill. And Angeline continued her not-so-subtle advances on Eddie.

After watching her “accidentally” spill her water bottle all over her white T-shirt at practice with him one day, I knew something would have to be done, no matter what Eddie had said about his personal life. Like so many awkward and unpleasant tasks in our cohort, I had a feeling I was the one who would have to do it. I figured this would be some sort of stern, heart-to-heart talk about the proper way to solicit someone’s attention, but on the night of my date with Brayden, it was soon made clear to me that I was apparently the last person who should be giving dating advice.

“You’re wearing that?” demanded Kristin, pointing an accusing finger at the outfit I’d neatly set out on my bed. She and Julia had taken it upon themselves to inspect me before I went out. Jill and Angeline had tagged along without invitation, and I couldn’t help but notice that everyone seemed a lot more excited about this than I was. Mostly I was a tangle of nerves and fear. This was what it must feel like to go into a test without having studied. It was a new experience for me.

“It’s not a school uniform,” I said. I’d had enough sense to know wearing that would be unacceptable. “And it’s a color. Kind of.”

Julia held up the top I’d selected, a crisp cotton blouse with short sleeves and a high, button-up collar. The whole thing was a soft shade of lemon yellow, which I thought would score me points with this group since everyone accused me of not wearing colors. I’d even combined it with a pair of jeans. She shook her head. “This is the kind of shirt that says, ‘You’re never getting in here.’”