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I kick off my shoes and climb on. “I saw Melody all over Bellamy, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying it, so I . . .” I trail off and shrug. “I don’t know, I felt like he needed help.”

“I think the vampire can help himself,” she says with a shake of her head.

Maybe, but Ever didn’t see the look on his face. “Anyway, I don’t really like being around people⁠—”

“I’ve noticed,” Ever interjects with a grin.

“—so I left. Sorry if I killed the vibe.”

“You didn’t!” she assures me. Ever takes another drink, a laugh tumbling out of her, some joke I’m not privy too.

“What?” I ask, eyebrows twisting together.

“I had the weirdest déjà vu just now. Back in high school, my cousins and I went out to a party, and the next morning we were sitting on the bed like this. I have this one cousin who is a real introvert. Anyway, our conversation reminded me of that morning. Isn’t it funny how you remember stuff like that?”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from my childhood.”

She studies me. “Oh?” is all she says, even though I know she’s dying of curiosity. I haven’t exactly shared much about myself. Besides thinking that no one would be interested, I guess part of me is worried that if I do share all my baggage, it might be too much for her.

“Well, obviously you know I’m an orphan. My parents died when I was a kid.”

“Do you mind if I ask how?”

“I don’t remember.” I look at the coffee in my hand. “All I remember is it happened, and my twin—” I swallow hard and fiddle with the charm around my neck. “My twin was taken away, given to a different guardian, I guess.”

“Oh, Raina, I had no idea you have a sister.” She places her hand on mine. “It must suck not to know where she is.”

I nod. “I’ve been trying to find her. I checked the databases, tried to check enrollments at other universities, but I haven’t discovered anything useful. Anyway, sometimes I hear people talking about their childhoods, and they all have these detailed memories. I don’t have that. It’s almost like a blank space lives where they should be.”

“A classic trauma response.”

I give her a questioning look.

She sets her coffee on the bedside table. “My aunt is a psychologist. She works with paranorms with all types of mental health issues. Depression, anxiety, PTSD.”

“And you think I have one of those?”

“I’m no expert, not by a long shot, but I remember her talking about how some patients with trauma don’t remember pieces of their past. Maybe your brain is protecting itself,” she says with a shrug.

I frown. I don’t think I have PTSD—that’s for paranorms who have been in battle. I think it’s more likely that Mr. Peters paid someone to erase my past, but they didn’t get everything. “Well, whatever it is, Carver seems to think I’m getting in my own way. I guess I’m wondering if this is part of the problem.”

“It might be,” Ever says. “If you want to talk to my aunt, I can give you her number.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. I can handle it.”

She would never say it aloud, but the way Ever watches me tells me she’s not so sure I can. I change the topic, and she thankfully moves on with me, but as we talk and laugh about Eli and Bree’s antics last night, I can’t help wondering if there’s more to the missing memories than I thought.

Wondering about my past and the blank spaces in my mind has consumed my weekend, but today it’s back to reality. The uneasy quiet that’s settled over the gym as we wait for Practical Casting to start keeps me from ruminating on it. There’s too much tension writhing around the room. In weeks past, there was excited chatter and laughing before class. Now that the rankings are revealed, there’ll be no more friendly practice. My stomach is hard as I sit next to Eli, who is as quiet as me.

Today, students will be paired based on their powers.

A massive electronic ranking board is hung on the lime-washed stone wall directly across from where we sit. That’s where the list of sparring partners will live. It’s tied into the broader ranking system at Diremount. How well we do in our classes determines overall rank.

“Incoming,” Eli murmurs.

Professor Silverstone strides across the polished walnut floors, Drake following her. Both come to stand before where we’re all seated on the bleachers. The professor always looks so different here than in the history classroom, with her fatigues and form-fitting top. Less a professor and more a badass warrior.

She’s the rare type of Foundation I actually like. She’s not smug and condescending. She genuinely wants to help all of her students become the best they can be.