Haven smiles for the first time in days, and it feels warm on her face, like the sun finding her after being gone forever. Punishing the Grays is only fair. They shouldn’t be able to walk into this house and take whatever they want — including her sister. Even Mom and Dad know there’s something wrong with Imogen, and her nonresponsive ways, and her sea-glass eyes, and that the Grays must have something to do with it.

Mom looks at the bag again, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I didn’t want any of that in the house to begin with.” She steps inside and slams the side door. Haven’s disappointment closes in on her.

Mom was supposed to do something.

“Haven,” Mom says, slipping out of her shoes and walking to the living room in her peach-colored socks. Haven is still bingeing on the sight of Imogen’s ex-friends like a bad television show. “Come away from that window.”

“But they’re not leaving, Mom,” Haven says, pitching her voice just so, to make sure Mom understands.

They’re the victims of the weirdest girls in Tempest, California.

Imogen appears in the background, still wearing her dirty old nightgown, hair unbound. Haven pulls hers up into a neat bun as she watches her dad put away the groceries and her mom weigh the options.

Mom picks up the phone and calls the school.

The Grays: Now

Danny is shaking by the time the Grays gather in detention. The teacher in charge, Ms. Lefevre, settles behind her desk, one eye on the possible panic attack in the third row, the other on a thick detective novel she clearly wants to read.

“It’s just detention,” Lelia says to Danny, but Danny’s breathing stays jagged.

“The school has a red flag planted in my behavioral issues,” Danny says. “They called my mom already. She left me a message. I’m in trouble, but she wants to talk about how much.”

Rush has been in so many forms of trouble with her own parents that she remembers that feeling, even if it’s a little dusty. She stopped caring a long time ago. She puts one finger on the spiky bone of Danny’s wrist and rubs.

Danny closes her eyes, looking relieved. But then a desk screeches as Hawthorn drags the Grays into a circle. The other students seem determined to ignore them. Two skinny freshman boys are eyeing each other like they’ve recently indulged in a fight, and there are three sophomores who, judging by how vigorously they’re texting under the desks, probably got in trouble for taking out their phones in class.