“I’ll go,” I say quickly, heading to the door. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I bolt to the exit. I don’t know what to be more scared of, my own ability to see into Jane’s mind, or the fact a clone was killed…for being a clone.

When I find my friends in the dining hall, the feeds are already playing a news story about this brutal act. Jaeger Stanwick’s been invited to speak as an expert, and he calls for legislation that would protect clones, not endanger them. The faces of my friends go rigid as they take in this news. Jago grabs Maude’s hand. I want to search Levi’s face, but I avoid looking in his direction. I can’t right now. I’m not ready to face him.

“My dad’s returning to the Quarry,” Pru tells us, taking her eyes off the feeds. “He took a leave of absence, after my mom…” She looks at each one of us in turn. “The Quarry is ramping up its efforts. They say this is a full-blown crisis, and that the time is now to protect clones against this wave of bigotry. The hundred members and counting are dedicating themselves full time to the cause. Dad’s forbidden me to join until I’ve graduated,” she adds, scowling. “Apparently it was my mom’s dying wish that I get a Darkwood diploma.”

After lunch, Ollie and I walk back to our respective dorms. He’s rehashing all the details of his college trip—telling me for the third or fourth time since he got back that NYU’s film program is basically his whole reason for living. “You were right, Emma,” he adds. “I can’t go to USC just to stay close to my family. If I get into NYU…I’m going.” I’m so happy to see the smile in his eyes. But my own mind’s so far away. I heard his mother’s thoughts. That’s four people now: Harlowe, Ollie, Ransom, Jane. With a sense of dread, I wonder whose mind I’ll see into next. The thought sends a shiver down my spine. We turn a corner and almost walk straight into Harlowe, who’s handing out freshly printed DAAM flyers.

“Big rally coming up in March. There’s still room for volunteers.” She grins at me.

I snatch one of the flyers out of her hands, irate. I crumple the flyer in my fist, slamming my hand against the metal of the recycling bin as I try to discard it.

“Ow!” I gasp, clutching my throbbing hand. “That really hurt.”

Ollie takes my hand and cups it gently between his own. “You didn’t have to take it out on the poor, unsuspecting trash can, you know.”

I will away the tears that spring to my eyes. Tears not just of pain, but for the Similars, and clones everywhere.