I feel my eyes swimming with tears, and I clutch the banister of the staircase. How can I possibly explain to him how messed up things got, when I don’t understand it myself?

He didn’t come back here for me. There’s no mistaking those words he said. And maybe he means them. Because maybe, just maybe, what we had wasn’t what I thought it was. Or maybe the kiss with Ollie hurt him so much, he’s saving face.

I mutter good night and hurry down the stairs, leaving him standing there in the half-light. It’s one o’clock in the morning when I make it to my dorm room and collapse on my bed. Pru’s already passed out on top of her covers, but I’m not even considering sleep. How could I?

Levi didn’t come back here for me. He doesn’t want to be with me. Does he mean it? Could he mean it?

I cry myself to sleep, getting only two fitful hours before I have to wake up for my classes in the morning. My agitated dreams are tangled landscapes featuring Ollie, Levi, my past, and the unknown of my future, all melting into one frightening Daliesque topography. When I wake the next morning and see the harsh light filtering in through the window, I can barely face myself in the mirror while brushing my teeth. What have I done?

I spend all my time on homework and helping Maude try to hack into Gravelle’s server, so she can learn everything she can about the stealth virus. If there’s a way to deactivate it, she’s determined to find it. Alone in my room, where I’m hiding out these days, afraid to confront Ollie and afraid that facing Levi will feel like another blow to the chest, I gobble up articles on telepathy, wondering if that’s the name of what I did, or what happened to me, when I read the thoughts of Harlowe, Ollie, and Ransom.

October passes into November. The air grows colder, and students drag their heaviest coats out of suitcases. I’m dismayed to see that anti-clone sentiments have only increased on campus since Harlowe’s blog post was published. Students have petitioned Darkwood to investigate the Similars’ extraordinary strength, and several parents have threatened to withdraw their kids if the school doesn’t address and disprove the claims. Every time I see Jane, she’s talking with a teacher or administrator, a deep furrow in her brow. I overhear her tell a parent that an investigation would be unfair and unlawful. The Similars are minors, and any salacious claims about their strength are pure conjecture. It’s also none of the school’s business.