“Emma followed him out of the dance,” Ollie explains. “Said he was going to inject himself…”

“With the plasma from his ‘experiment,’” I explain. “Your plasma. Let’s just say, if I go missing, it’s because I’ve been sentenced to duty for the rest of my life. Ransom didn’t even deny that he’s been experimenting on you. He’s already injected himself with the ‘cocktail.’ That’s what he called it. He said you have no rights because you signed a contract…”

“We did,” Jago answers. “He’s not wrong.”

“But would it even hold up, in court?” I press.

“We’ve talked about this, Emma,” Maude jumps in. “It’s not in our best interests to fight him on this.”

“Prudence?” says a voice, and we all look up to see Tessa standing there by our table, balancing a tray in one hand and a supple leather bag in the other. She wears another funky outfit—a purple bomber jacket with shredded jeans and patent leather booties. “Pru?” she repeats. “Can I sit here?”

“Um. Sure?” Pru answers, completely blindsided. Tessa wants to sit next to her? After conking her over the head last year with a rowing oar in the boathouse and leaving her for dead? What could she possibly have to say to Pru, anyway? Tessa’s lucky that judge took pity on her and sent her to a treatment facility, not prison. How can she act like everything’s normal?

Tessa sets down her tray, places her bag on an empty chair, and gingerly takes the spot next to Pru. I find myself tensing, feeling protective of Pru and everything she’s gone through this last year.

“I’m not that great at this,” Tessa says, looking for once like she actually cares about something other than her nail polish color. “So please hear me out. I’ve been practicing for weeks. I’m sorry for what I did to you last year. It wasn’t fair. I screwed up badly, and I really, really hope we can be friends going forward. Okay?” Tessa pauses. What is she expecting, applause? Ollie and I share a look. Pru bristles.

“Friends. You want us to be friends,” Pru repeats.

“Yes. I’ve been participating in these workshops at Creekside—that’s my treatment facility—and all the experts say the first step toward gaining self-acceptance is to apologize to all the people you’ve wronged.” She suddenly looks unsure of herself. She fiddles with the strap of her bag.

“I seriously can’t believe you’re making this about you,” I snap.

I don’t have a chance to say more, because there’s a commotion on the other side of the dining hall. We all look over to see what’s going on.

“No way.” Ollie laughs, looking surprised and maybe a little impressed. “Seriously?”