Then I see it: the lab.
It’s a small but efficient space, with stainless steel countertops, industrial sinks, and rows of neatly labeled glass jars. My eyes scan the space when the boxes stacked in the corner stop me in my tracks.Myboxes.
“Are those?” I trail off and head toward them.
Cami strolls next to me. “I kept them. After you left, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. I thought… I don’t know. Maybe one day you’d want them back.”
I run my fingers over the label on one of the boxes, and my chest feels heavy. I know inside these boxes are the remnants of a life I have buried—notes, equipment, and everything frombefore. The memories hit me hard. I remember the first time I made Z, and Cami had looked at me with wide eyes as the drug hit her.“This isn’t X,” she said, “This is way beyond. We should call it Z.”
I try to shake it off. “I can’t, Cami,” I whisper. "I have Ella to think about. I can't risk her losing anyone else."
“Just think about it,” she says softly. “This could be the answer, Vi. For all of us.”
Chapter 3
The Worst Pep Talk I’ve Ever Given Myself
Violet
The drive home dissolves into headlights and wet pavement. By the time I pull into our lot, I don’t have an answer, just Ella’s future ricocheting in my skull.
I barely get the door open before her voice hits me.
“We have to talk about Langport.” She’s in the hallway, arms folded, chin up. Those dark eyes could cut stone.
Of course we do.
“Can I sit first?” I ask.
She follows me into the living room but doesn’t wait for me to get comfortable. “Sam’s going,” she blurts. “They told her this morning. Her family’s already looking for places in London. Do you get what that means, Vi? She’s leaving. Everyone always leaves.”
I open my mouth, but she barrels on.
“I can’t just stay here while she gets everything. She’s my best friend. We planned this together—the dorms, the classes, and the stupid late-night cafés. I helped her fill out her essay, and now she’s the one packing? Do you know how messed up that feels?” Her voice cracks halfway through the rant, but she powers through it. “She’s already talking about how she and her dad are touring the campus next month. I should be going too. I got accepted first. I earned it. But she gets to go because her parents can swipe a card.”
There’s a silence that hums between us — heavy, electric.
“I hate it here,” she whispers. “I hate this town. Every time I walk past the hospital, I see them. Every time I hear sirens, I see the crash. Sam was the only thing that didn’t remind me of all that, and now she’s leaving too.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know if I want to hold her or punch the wall.
“Oh, Ella,” I manage, voice low. “I know this feels—”
“Feels?” she snaps. “This isn’t justfeelings, Vi. This is my life. Langport isn’t some fantasy school for me—it’s a way out. You think I want to keep being the charity case at Greenview? The girl whose parents died, so she goes for free? Everyone already pities us. I’m tired of being the poor tragedy.”
That one hits like a slap.
I bite back the hundred things I want to say—about how I’m doing everything I can, about how none of this was supposed to be my job, and about how I miss Mom and Dad too. But she’s not wrong. Not really.
“Ella,” I say carefully, “I’m proud of you. You worked your ass off for this. But…”
Her eyes harden. “But what?” You don’t think I deserve to go?” she snaps.
“Of course, Ella, you 100% deserve it,” I say quickly. “That’s not what this is about at all.”
“Then what?” she demands. “Is it because it’s too far away? Or because you don’t want me to go because you won't have a life without me?”
Her words land like a gut punch, leaving me raw and stunned. My chest tightens at the sting of her accusation, and it sinks deeper than I ever expected. A tangle of guilt and shame rises up in me. I hate that my body is so honest. My face is calm, and everything under my skin is setting itself on fire. I wish it were that simple and selfish, but I can’t lie to her to make it easier for me.
