The conversation is cut short when Principal Fleischer strides to the front of the room to announce this year’s stratum rankings. She informs the student body that Maude Gravelle will be this year’s Ten leader, which is met with light applause. A lot of kids twist in their seats, and some even stand up in place, to get a better look at Maude. She’s the exact DNA copy of last year’s Ten leader, which makes her uniquely interesting to many of our classmates, though not to me. I don’t even see Madison’s face when I look at Maude anymore. I only see my friend.

“Moving on to the rankings,” Fleischer continues. “Please wait for your name to be called. Then retrieve your envelope.” The members of the junior class straighten in their chairs, but us seniors, already ranked last year, listen with mild curiosity. I’m too preoccupied to care who’ll be joining us in the Ten. It’s not until the faces of the new junior members are projected on the eight-foot view screen that I snap to attention. I don’t personally know most of these new Ten members or recognize them from my classes, but one face stands out to me. It takes me a second to place her.

“She was leading the protest this morning,” Ollie whispers in my ear, getting there faster than me.

He’s right. It’s the girl with the silver hair. According to the stratum announcement, her name is Harlowe Shaw. My heart sinks. We’ll be in the Ten together. And worse, so will Pippa, Theodora, and Maude.

I snag Maude and Pru at the end of dinner. “The junior with the number-two stratum? She was one of the protestors this morning.”

Maude doesn’t look fazed. “I’m aware.”

“Ransom’s still letting kids get away with that?” Pru asks, visibly agitated.

That’s right; I’d almost forgotten that Pru missed that hateful display this morning. I’m glad she didn’t see it. She doesn’t need that right now.

“What do we do?” I moan. “Induct this girl into our group like everything’s normal?”

“What choice do we have?” Maude asks. “We don’t pick who’s in the Ten. Madison didn’t want a single one of us in it last year. But even she couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Except torment us.”

“Except that,” Maude agrees.

This is a disaster. Tradition dictates that we should be holding the first midnight session tonight. We’re going to have to welcome Harlowe Shaw into Darkwood’s most esteemed group. I don’t know if I can be in the same room with her without throwing a punch.