“How perfect and not at all coincidental. Francis needs a nap. I’m going to take Harlow upstairs so she can lie down too.”

Harlow said, “I don’t need an escort.”

“Well, hello. Welcome back,” Stella said. “And too bad because you’re getting one.”

“What time would we start, then?” Luna asked. “I don’t think we should waste too much time. I’m fine staying up for as long as it takes. I’m not even tired yet.”

Oh dear God, Nicole thought. She’d spent the afternoon gallivanting around with Francis while they were being buried alive and getting their bones broken. The least she could do was make sure they ate and got some rest after what they’d been through. Someone had to take care of them.

But who was she to decide that for them? They’d sacrificed so much, maybe they should all just keep playing. Maybe she should just let them win. She didn’t deserve that much money when all she did to earn it was get to know a cute boy.

Everything felt off balance. The guilt spiral had kicked up again, trapping her in a whirlpool of doubt. She couldn’t think, couldn’t see reason.

Stella said, “Resting isn’t wasting time. That’s capitalism talking—break the cycle.”

“I definitely want to change out of this thing,” Alex said, pulling on his jumpsuit. His words sounded garbled, like he was thirty seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion. “I’m in for upstairs too.”

“Majority rules.” Stella locked eyes with Nicole. “Let’s go.”

Back in Crayola Hall, Nicole followed Luna to her room, the adjoining door to Alex’s suite noticeably open. “Hey,” she said, “do you need help getting changed because of your arm? You can say no.”

“Oh, um.” Luna looked around her room as if she were searching for something. “Yeah. Olive helped me earlier.” She walked to her closet first, grabbing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and then to the bathroom, where Nicole followed and asked, “Do you want to take a shower? I can go find a bag to wrap your arm, so your bandages don’t get wet.”

“No, I just want to change my clothes. Alex needs me.”

“You two are so cute,” she said, undoing the straps to Luna’s sling.

“I think he’s mad, though.”

“At you? Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Luna winced taking the jumpsuit off. “It’s really starting to hurt again.”

“Almost done,” Nicole said, kneeling. “Step out.” The shirt was a bit harder to get on. Maneuvering it around her arm without making her straighten it took a few tries. “Maybe we should steal you some button-up shirts from the Wardrobe Room. Sit down, I’ll do your hair.”

“Can you put it in a ponytail? Don’t comb it out, please. It’ll just get poofy.”

“I got you. Don’t worry.”