I glare at him, nails digging into the skin of my palms. Thane’s eyes fall to my hands, and I jump when he reaches for my arm. “Stop.” His touch is like a shock to my joints, forcing my bones to straighten and relax. It takes me a moment, but I finally ask, “How do you know about the coin?”

“Lily told me some things. And then I did my own research,” he says, and his smile is like blood smeared across his face. “It’s not the first time someone’s gotten ahold of resurrection coins. Why do you think we have curfew?”

We stare at one another, and I feel as I did before in Thane’s presence—trapped. I don’t like being vulnerable.

Still, he’s had suspicions about me for over a week and hasn’t told anyone. What is his deal?

“What else do you know? And what do you want from me?”

He maintains that smudge of a smile.

“Meet me at June’s Café for coffee at three.”

“You can’t tell me now?”

He shakes his head. “It’s best not to talk here, and if you must know, I don’t mind getting under Savior’s skin.”

It’s then I notice he’s not even looking at me. His gaze has traveled over my head. I twist and find Shy standing in the crowd, frozen in place. He’s pale, and his eyes look like glittering diamonds. I’m not sure if they glisten from unshed tears or anger.

I turn back to Thane.

“Getting under his skin?”

“Yeah, I’m guessing he doesn’t want you to be friends with me.”

“Why would he care?” I shoot back.

“Oh, he cares. Maybe not about you in particular, but he cares about what you are.”

Those words hit me hard, like Thane jabbed me in the side with an icepick.

He looks down at me again before pushing past me. “See you at three.”

When I turn back toward Shy, he’s moved away. I shuffle back into the auditorium and sit in the back with Lennon during Lily’s memorial, not wanting to take seats from people who actually knew her well. The memorial consists of a slideshow of pictures, featuring familiar faces—Shy, Natalie, Jacobi, even Thane. There are others too, people I’ve seen in the hallway between classes or at Shy’s lunch table.

Pop music filters through the sound system, setting a surprisingly upbeat tone. I guess it was Lily’s favorite band. It conflicts horribly with the symphony of sniffles and sobs present during decrescendo or transitions between songs.

The last half of the memorial, people stand up and share stories about Lily. Jacobi goes first, then Natalie, and then Shy.

He stands under the spotlight, and it washes the color from his face, leaving behind just his bright blue eyes.