He’s not in his room, or the library, or any of our usual spots on campus. So I head to the only other place I can think of—Jane’s office.

I knock softly and announce myself. “Jane? It’s Emma. Can I come in?”

The door opens, revealing Ollie, pacing and gazing out the window at Dark Lake. Jane’s behind her desk, looking a lot less like a headmistress and a lot more like the Jane I know and love.

“Hi,” I say to them both. It’s all I utter before Jane walks up and throws her arms around me, holding onto me like she doesn’t want to let go. I’m surprised; though I’ve always thought of Jane like a surrogate mom, I’ve never quite known where I stood with her.

“That was a brave thing you did, Emma,” she says, breaking the hug but still holding onto my shoulders.

“I wasn’t being brave,” I explain to her. “I was being honest.” My eyes flick to Ollie, standing there with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, surveying me. I can’t read what’s on his face, and for the first time since that thing started happening and I began reading minds, I actually want it to happen so I can know what he’s thinking.

It doesn’t.

“Either way,” Jane goes on, her eyes still fixed on me. “I need you to know that I support you. As a friend—as your best friend’s mom, I support you—and as your headmistress, I stand by you. Interim or not.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, appreciating every word she’s saying, but still focused on Ollie. With each passing second, I grow increasingly worried about what his reaction will be. Why is he being so quiet? “Ollie,” I begin, not at all sure how I’m going to say this. “I couldn’t tell you last year. Not when I first got the note. Gravelle’s note. You had gone through the biggest ordeal of your life. You’d come back from the dead. It didn’t seem fair to tell you something that might have been fake. A lie. Another trick on Gravelle’s part. But then—things happened this year. I jumped out of Harlowe’s car. I lied to you, Ollie. That car was going fifty miles an hour. Maybe more.”

Jane starts to jump in here, a look of concern on her face, but I hold up a hand.

“I wasn’t hurt. I mean, I was, initially, but my scrapes healed so quickly. That was when I realized something was wrong. Or, maybe, right,” I fumble. “It’s taken me a long time to realize that while this changes everything—everything—I’m still me. Right? Ollie, please say something.”