“And the teachers?” I ask, as we all briskly make our way out of the athletic building, having stopped only to use the restroom on our way. Jake’s already taken off, presumably to find the clones himself.

“Still no idea,” Theodora answers. “But I have news, about Tessa.”

“Yes?” My heart’s pounding out of my chest as we make our way outside, where the campus lawn is littered with students—some sunbathing in bikinis, others playing Frisbee and bocce ball. Music is blasting, and a couple of kids are floating on giant unicorn- and flamingo-shaped rafts in Dark Lake.

“We reached her. At Creekside,” Theodora explains. “She’s on her way here. She’s a little…”

“Mad,” Pippa supplies.

I feel my heart sink.

“Who are they?” I ask Pru and my friends, as we hurry to the dining hall to snag some breakfast. The last thing I’m thinking about is food, but my stomach reminds me with a rumble that I’m starving.

“DNA copies,” Maude says, stating the obvious. “The real question is: Is this our guardian’s doing? And why—”

Maude is interrupted by the sound of the fire alarm blaring. “This is not a drill,” an automated voice booms out. “There is a fire on the premises. I repeat: there is a fire on the premises. Immediately move to all exits and vacate all buildings. Immediately move to all exits and vacate all buildings.”

I manage to grab a bagel before we turn back to the double doors of the dining hall, which is now a bottleneck of kids yelling that we have to leave. Students are shoving each other out the door, some shouting. A first year’s crying, saying she barely escaped a fire when she was ten. Another girl grabs her by the arm and pulls her bodily out the door.

Once we’re outside, the alarm continues to blare. Kids stream out of the main house and every dorm, all convening on the grassy lawn by the circular drive. I’m scanning the grounds for any sign of our teachers and spot Tessa not far off—or Tessa’s look-alike, I guess I should say. She’s sprinting across the lawn, wearing only that purple bra from yesterday and underwear, and grasping her clothes in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other. Why isn’t she dressed? Was she hooking up with Henry Blackstone again? She’s yelling something—I’m not sure what, or who it’s directed at. No one notices her at first, but once they do, everyone stops their conversations to watch her run across the lawn.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Ollie says, his eyes glued to this Tessa impersonator. So are mine.

That’s when Jake runs past. Our Jake. He’s wearing the pajamas he had on all night in the janitor’s closet. And he is pissed.