“Well then, no deal,” I say with a shrug and begin walking to the door. Counting the steps. I know she won’t let me just boot them out. She needs me for some reason. She needs to be no one. “Now please, I have a lot to get done tonight, movies to watch and Netflix to chill, so I’d kindly ask you to—”

“Fine,” she snaps and marches up to me. “Fine.”

This time when she offers to shake on the deal, it’s not in comradery. She looks almost pained. I smile and accept her outstretched hand.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Jessica Stone.”

DAY TWO

FRIDAY

“Starflame! I am not a Noxian Princess for you to save. I will be Queen, and you will kneel before me.”

—Princess Amara, Episode 43, “From Amara with Love”

Jess

AT NINE O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY MORNING, Ethan and I are dragging ourselves to the space-age elevator, still half asleep. I sip a double-shot dirty chai latte, hoping it’ll give me some sort of kick. I can’t remember what time I went to bed last night—I was up pacing and scrolling through Starfield hashtags, hoping no one’s realized that the leak is real or that it’s my script, before Ethan woke up and took my phone away.

“Go. To. Bed,” he enunciated and flopped back onto the couch.

I guess I did, eventually, but I don’t remember falling asleep.

We crowd into the elevator, squeezing between green face-painted witches and home-sewn Viking warriors.

I should still be sleeping.

Though, miraculously, my social is quiet this morning. Blissfully so. There are some rude or derogatory comments, but nothing I can’t swipe away with a swift DELETE.

It’s very cathartic.

Maybe the rest of the weekend will be this easy. I’ll find the person who stole my script and I’ll put an end to it, and then Diana will call me and confirm that Amara is well and truly dead.

The elevator dings to a stop on the eighth floor. Imogen’s room is at the far end, just beyond the flickering light.

I raise my hand to knock when Ethan stops me and pulls me away from the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?’ he whispers. “Think about it. She could ruin your career.”

“More than I’m ruining it myself, you mean?”

He frowns. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I have to find that script, and I’m counting on you to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, okay? You’ve babysat me my whole life. You can take care of one nerd girl for two days. It won’t be that hard.”