Ollie mutters something about me being as annoying as his mom, and I take the opportunity to rush out of there. I feel so guilty about avoiding him. But what can I do? It’s true, I do need to sleep. But I also need time alone with my thoughts. Time to process everything that’s happened since school started. Time to figure out how to be normal around Ollie. Because I worry we may never really be normal together again.

• • •

The next two weeks pass by in a blur. I still can’t get Harlowe’s voice out of my head and feel a nauseating flip in my stomach every time I think about what happened—how I read her thoughts—but I can’t dwell on what that means right now. Not a minute goes by when I’m not thinking about Levi, but I have classwork to dive into, and prepping for the Nine with Maude. We’ve all been inundated with information about college applications, which are the furthest thing from my mind, though I make a mental note to start narrowing down my list. I know what a privilege college is. I won’t squander it—I’d rather take time off than waste the opportunity. I don’t know if I’m in the right headspace for it. But I’ll try. I have to; my father would kill me if I didn’t.

“Maude,” I tell her one afternoon while we’re finishing our essays on Jane Eyre in the library. “Levi…”

“Levi what?” She puts down her tablet, looking concerned.

“I got a phone call. From Gravelle,” I say, suddenly feeling like I desperately need to share this with someone. It can’t be Ollie. He won’t understand.

“When?” she asks sharply.

“The day we came back to school,” I admit.

“And you’re only telling me this now?”

“Gravelle said Levi doesn’t want to come back here. That Darkwood was never a good fit for him.” I don’t let on how loaded this is for me, how fraught with emotion. Surely Levi hasn’t really forgotten me. Surely he doesn’t think that we weren’t a good fit. I know it doesn’t make logical sense; what we had last year was real, and he has to feel that too—right? But my heart isn’t so convinced.

“Sorry, but I don’t believe that for a second,” Maude says matter-of-factly.

I feel myself exhaling. “Me either. I mean, I don’t want to believe it, but…”

“Gravelle’s obviously keeping him there. Maybe indefinitely,” Maude adds. “I just hope he’ll let him out in time for Oxford.”

“Oxford?” I repeat. “As in, England? As in, all the way across the water? I mean, the pond?”