After PE, Lennon and I part ways at Emerson. I pull my phone from my locker and find I have a message from Mom.

Running late. Be there soon.

Maybe someone is looking out for me after all. I shove my books in my backpack and head toward the front office. Mom’s delay might not give me time to cross campus again, but I can check lost and found.

When I reach the office, the three ladies from yesterday are still behind the glass. They stand away from the desk so that their whole bodies are visible. Mrs. Cole spots me first and offers a smile, though I still think it’s forced.

“Miss Silby, what can we do for you?”

“I wondered if you have a lost and found?”

She maintains that smile. “What did you lose?”

My answer is poised on my tongue. I’d known all along I’d have to say it—a gold coin with the image of a raven—but my whole head pricks, as if my hair wants to free itself from my scalp. The sensation drips down my back, and my gaze slips past Mrs. Cole and her fake smile to the darker presence behind her.

Thane.

He stands in the shadow of the office, watching me curiously, and my whole body feels frozen. I can’t seem to clear the words from my throat, especially after the encounter I had with him this morning. He already believes I had something to do with Vera’s disappearance, and the fact that he’s absolutely right means I can’t trust him.

“Miss Silby?” Mrs. Cole asks again, and I offer a smile, though it feels wobbly and just as forced as hers. To make it worse, a breathy laugh escapes from between my lips.

“You know what.” I reach into the mesh pocket of my backpack, my fingers closing around my phone. “I’m such an idiot. I found what I thought I lost.” I lift the phone, and Mrs. Cole’s brows draw together. Clearly, she doesn’t believe me, but I take a step away from the counter. As I turn, Mrs. Cole’s voice strains through the mechanical filter.

“Take care, Miss Silby.”

I don’t respond. My feet carry me forward, around the corner, and through the first door on my right—the women’s restroom. I take a moment to breathe, releasing the tension knotting my chest before approaching the sink. My reflection looks harsh—pale face, black hair, lips the color of a bitten cherry, chapped. I’m not used to this version of me. I turn on the faucet and splash water on my face, cooling my pink cheeks, when I hear a soft sniffle. I pause and look up but see no one behind me in the mirror.