“I brought sustenance,” he says, holding up a bag of M&M’s in one hand and Slushees in the other. The minute I see him, tears spring to my eyes, and I go into his arms, into that space in his chest that feels sturdier than it used to. Ollie wraps his arms around me, and for a second, I can almost believe it’s two years ago. Before everything changed so irrevocably.

“Walk?” I ask him. He nods, following me out of Cypress to the grassy patch behind the dorms where we used to study, or pretend to, lying on our backs looking up at the cloud formations. That’s what we do now, only there’s no pretense of studying. He’s lying inches from me, like he always used to, and the grass is still green beneath us. It will stay that way for another month before the cold Vermont winter lays its gloved hand over our campus, rendering everything gray and withered.

“Em. I need to tell you something.”

My throat tightens, and I keep my eyes squarely on the sky. Don’t say it, Ollie. Please. Because I don’t know what I’ll do…

“I know I’ve been putting on a happy face,” he says quickly. “But the truth is—I’m struggling. To make sense of everything that happened last year.”

That gets my attention. It’s not what I was expecting, and I turn on my side, resting my head on my hand, my arm propped up on my elbow.

“The thing is,” Ollie says, squinting up at the cloud cover and shading his eyes with his hand, “I can’t deal with the fact that my father is a murderer. Before you say anything. He is. He killed that boy, that Duplicate who had my DNA. Gravelle treated him like he was expendable. Not even human. Half of my genes come from him. From that monster who is my dad—”

“Wrong,” I say emphatically. “That man is not your father. How many times do I have to say it?”

“But he is!” Ollie says, sitting up and flexing his hands into fists. “I know he didn’t raise me. I didn’t get my values from him. Or my beliefs about right and wrong. The Similars got all that,” he mutters, and in that moment his face looks shaded and hardened, like he’s not a boy anymore, not really. “I was lucky,” Ollie goes on. “I had my mom and Booker. I don’t know what’s worse, honestly. Being Gravelle’s biological son, or being the kids he raised from birth. All I know is that the Similars can choose to distance themselves from him. They can eventually walk away. I can never walk away from his DNA—”

“And neither can Levi,” I say, my heart lurching in my chest as I sit up too.