My father rides in front. I’ve placed myself strategically behind him in the back seat. It’s better if we can’t look at each other. Ever since I read Gravelle’s letter—the one where he revealed that I might not be me, but another girl, Eden, the replacement for the daughter my father originally loved—it’s been hard to face the man I call Dad. The gulf that already existed between us is now wider than ever. Every time I think about him, I wonder: Is this why he’s never loved me? Why he’s tolerated me, at best? Because I might not be me, but another girl? One born on a remote island. And if what Gravelle claims is really true, and my father’s kept this secret from me for all these years, how can I ever trust him again?

“Darkwood campus in five! Four! Three!” chirps the virtual driver of our car. She’s so peppy. Why can’t bots be programmable to fit your general mood? In this case, “utter relief that your best friend is alive, with a side of total despair over the boy you love.”

I know how lucky I am. Oliver is back. And for the most part, well. He’s listening to music through his earbuds, dozing in and out after our flight from California, a look of contentment on his face. He shouldn’t even be here right now. I spent nearly a year mourning his death. Believing he’d died by suicide. At the end of the school year, when I learned it had all been a trick, that he was alive… I fully appreciate that what I’ve been given is a precious gift: more time with the boy who befriended me in the third grade. Who knows I like to layer chips inside my sandwich and who teases me about all the right things: my sarcasm, the way I eat pizza—crust first—and never about the wrong things, like the fact that I’m always overcompensating. That my mother’s death left a permanent scar, its edges still raw. If only Ollie’s return weren’t inextricably tied to leaving Levi on Castor Island, at the hands of Gravelle.

“Emmaline,” the familiar voice of my bot, Dash, cuts through my tangled thoughts. “You have an incoming call. Do you wish to answer it?”

I look down at my plum. There’s no number listed, but it’s definitely ringing.

Could it be him? Levi?

The thought of it sends every nerve in my body tingling.

Is he okay?

That question sends fear coursing through me.

“Yes!” I whisper, frantic, as I shove my earbuds in. I don’t want to wake Ollie or tip off my father, whose head is bent over a work memo. But if there’s any chance this is Levi, there’s no way I’m not answering.