“So what do you do now? Go to the press? The police?” Even though she’s suggesting these things, I can see her fidgeting with the silver rings on her fingers—a sure sign she is nervous about my response.

“Until I can remember more, there’s not enough evidence to go to the authorities. Mom promised to talk to Eric Smith about Carter stealing Jinx. So, honestly? Now all I want to do is be able to go back to my real school.”

Zora blinks at me, and I bite my lower lip, realizing how insensitive I’m being. St. Agnes might not be my school, but it is Zora’s. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, Z.”

She blinks again. “For what?”

“I don’t mean that St. Agnes isn’t a real school…”

To my relief, she laughs. “Don’t be a dummy. Come on, I was almost as invested in you getting into Profectus as you were! It’s always been your dream, not mine. I was just thinking…maybe there’s a way for you to get a level three baku after all. Then they’ll have to let you in.”

I sigh. “It’s not that simple. And there’s no way I can afford to buy another baku—let alone a level three. Not unless you know a way to hack the lottery.”

“Ha, no. But you already turned a broken pile of smoldering metal into a fully functioning level three cat baku. Why don’t you work on turning Slick into a level three over the Christmas vacation? We’ve only got another couple of days left at school, so you won’t miss much. Then you can restart at Profectus in the new year.” She lowers her voice. “I know you don’t want to replace Jinx…”

“I let him go,” I say, before I can stop myself.

“What?” Zora gasps.

Even as the words leave my mouth, I know them to be true. The memory is suddenly clear as day.

We were outside, by the cat park. I’d given Jinx a choice: to stay with me or to go and be with his own kind.

He chose his own kind.

Emotions flood through me, a mixture of relief and sadness. At least now I know that Jinx is safe. Hopefully, he’s happy too. He’s found his place.

I have to get back to mine.

“It…it was the right decision,” I say to Zora’s still-shocked face. “But I like your plan for me to work on Slick.” The more I think about it, the better the idea becomes. The differences between level ones and level threes are mostly mechanical—with a bit of imagination and creativity, I might be able to turn Slick into some kind of super beetle.

My words bring Zora back to reality. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work,” she says, tentatively. “Are you sure you’re okay about Jinx?”