We merge with the crowd of PE students as Coach David instructs us.

“You know the drill. Run one lap, walk one lap—five sets,” says Coach David, though he doesn’t look like he’s all that invested in our overall wellness. “Anyone who wants extra credit can run two laps and walk one.”

Extra credit? Who needs extra credit in PE? Then Coach David addresses Lennon and me. “Ryder, new girl—” Students turn to stare and move a couple of steps away. Clearly, they heard about my episode in art class. Lennon’s the only one who doesn’t seem to know—or care. “Ten points deducted for tardiness.”

Seriously? Today is the worst.

Coach David places the whistle in his mouth and blows. Lennon and I hang back until most of the crowd disbands.

“By the way,” Lennon says, nudging me with her elbow before we hit our stride running. “He’s number twenty-two.”

“Who?”

“Shy.” Lennon gives me a lopsided grin, and I avoid her gaze, hoping to hide my flushed face. “He’s hard to forget, isn’t he?”

The tone of Lennon’s voice is admiring, and I wonder if she has a crush on Shy, but what I’ve seen of their interactions today told me the feelings definitely aren’t reciprocated. Who has caught Shy’s attention, and how many of those girls has Natalie managed to chase away with her overprotectiveness?

We begin our lap.

“So,” I say, breathing raggedly. “This curfew thing…does anyone actually obey it?”

“Yeah, it’s hard not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the doors lock at ten, and the only exits that work have fire alarms.”

This place is more like a prison than I imagined. No wonder Shy’s glad he doesn’t live here.

“Apparently, there were talks about lifting it, but then about fifty years back, a girl snuck out after curfew and hung herself in front of Emerson Hall. Left a suicide note and everything.”

Well, that explains a few things. Though it doesn’t explain what she wanted from me.

“But why keep curfew for the whole county?”

She shrugs. “I guess they think it controls crime. Lots of people on Roundtable have speculated about it, but it’s all woo-woo stuff about cults and mind control and rumors about ghosts from the old asylum cursing the whole town. None of it makes sense.”

I have a feeling the curfew has to do with the dead. They have a tendency to disrupt things, especially after dark.

“You’re not thinking about breaking curfew, are you?” Lennon asks.

There is only one reason I want outside after midnight, and it has nothing to do with the dead. It has nothing to do with boys. It has everything to do with my dreams.

“No.”

Lennon sounds relieved. “Good. You won’t like it anyway.”

“Why?”