It feels like eons later, but we finally make it to the door of Nightshade, Ollie’s dorm. “Go be brilliant. I’ll meet up with you later,” I say, almost shoving him through the door. “Go, go, go!”

Ollie salutes me before heading inside. I turn in the other direction and start walking. That was a close call. I’m surprised he didn’t say anything about his feelings. I need air. I don’t know how long I can do this, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I head the other way from the dorms, making sure to avoid that same shady path. I’m not looking where I’m going, and I’ve stumbled up to the soccer field, where a rowdy Saturday practice is in session. I’m not really following the players as they scurry over the grass, hunting the ball down. But as I gaze over them, vaguely noting the athletic shorts and T-shirts they wear with their cleats and soccer socks, I notice Jake. He’s running around like he didn’t just completely luck out, not getting into trouble for that stunt with the goat. If Ransom hadn’t collapsed, Jake would be in detention right now, paying for his crimes.

Jake’s got the ball now, and he’s kicking it lazily between his legs while another student—it looks like Willa, from the Nine—blows on a whistle, trying to get her team to pay attention.

“Coach Young isn’t here today, so you’re all gonna listen to me!” Willa shouts at her teammates through a megaphone. I’m not surprised Willa’s a soccer star; she’s athletic and elegant, with an easy confidence that radiates through everything she does. Knowing what I do—that she refused to take part in Harlowe’s reverse hazing ritual—makes me like her all the more.

Jake’s not listening to her, though. He’s goofing off with a couple of other kids, passing the ball and then tackling one of the other guys for fun.

“I said, I’m in charge!” Willa directs this comment pointedly to Jake, who continues to ignore her. “I’m gonna count down from five, Jake Choate. And if you’re still acting like an utter child, you’ll be banned from the field for twenty-four hours. Five. Four, three, two…one!” Jake’s lying on the grass, cracking up at something one of the other kids has said. Willa waltzes straight up to him, grabs him by the shirt, yanks him to his feet, and starts marching him to the edge of the field.

“What the hell?” Jake protests. “It was a joke! Diaz and Cooper weren’t listening, either.”

Jake stops talking when he looks up to find himself face-to-face with his exact DNA copy.

It’s Jago. And Jago is looking really pissed. Willa shoves Jake on the grass.