Oh, how I’ve longed for this. Our rapport. Our “usness.” With a jolt in my stomach I think of everything I’m keeping from him. The last thing I want to do is lie to Ollie. But I can’t tell him any of it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

At dinner, we all sit together: me, Pru, the Similars, and Ollie. A few tables over, Jake, Madison, and Archer compare plums. Archer laughs at something Madison’s showing him. I wonder why Madison and Archer are still here, hanging around… Probably to keep Jake company. Jake’s other friends have all left Darkwood to start college, and I bet he’s lonely. Not that I care.

Tessa isn’t here. Although she did manage to graduate last year, she hasn’t started college yet. A judge deemed her violent act against Pru, in the school boathouse, to have been brought on by post-traumatic stress disorder. He ordered her to live in a treatment center for six months.

Ansel’s telling us animatedly about his summer at the de Leons’. While Archer spent most of July and August on set in Thailand shooting a movie, Ansel got to know Archer’s dads, interning for them at their production company. I’m only half listening. All I can think about is Gravelle’s holo-call. His sickening message to me. The fact that my email to Levi is what caused Gravelle to lash out…

“You okay?” Ollie asks, digging into his casserole.

I could kick myself for being such an open book. I force myself to hide how not okay I really am. “Of course. Just enjoying this delicious gourmet fare. I forgot how much I missed it,” I add, grimacing for effect.

“Look, I know they aren’t my family. Not really,” Ansel’s saying between bites of in vitro chicken.

“Who says they aren’t?” Pippa pipes up. “People look for their birth parents all the time, don’t they? Isn’t it kind of like that for us?”

“The Huxleys are not my parents, birth or otherwise,” Maude responds.

“No,” Pippa agrees quietly. “They aren’t.”

“And I suppose I should start visiting Damian Leroy in prison?” Theodora snaps.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Sorry,” Theodora sighs. “I’m happy for you, Pippa. You too, Ansel. It’s just that Maude, Levi, and I aren’t exactly eager to be adopted by our DNA parents. No offense,” she adds for Oliver’s benefit.

“And it makes us want to vomit even calling them that. I prefer ‘unwilling DNA donors,’” Maude adds, spearing a carrot with her fork.