An ache expands from the back of my mouth all the way down my sternum. “Thank you for telling me.”
Daphne must think I’m still upset about my grandparents. She pats my shoulder. “They’re set in their opinions, but they dowant what’s best for us. Even you. We just… don’t always agree on what that is.”
“Yeah.” If she expects me to have any sympathy for those snuffers, she can forget it. “Well, I’d better get back to my work.”
As I return to my bedroom, the phone I left on my vanity is just chiming. I pick it up, assuming it’ll be chatter from my friends.
Instead, a brief text from an unknown contact pops up on the screen.
Back off and stick to your own kind bitch.
My fingers shiver around the phone. Something I did today pissed someone off.
Did some enemy of my double’s notice me hanging around Beacon Prep after all? That’s the only place I investigated.
Whoever sent this, whether they’re Other Elodie’s killer or not, it’s obvious they didn’t want me there.
Which means the first chance I get, I’m going back.
Twenty-Eight
Asher
I’ve just settled into my seat at the back of the Divination classroom when Cole gets up from behind his desk. “We’ll be doing direct partner readings today. I’m picking the pairs. You know the drill by now.”
Several of my classmates stifle groans. My stomach knots for a different reason.
My brother’s demeanor is as cool and caustic as he usually acts in professor mode, but I know he hates the direct partner exercises at least as much as his students do. He’s vented to me at home about the “absurd” rules enforced by the academy’s administration, demanding that the junior and senior Divination class carry out a session at least once a month.
And that he secretly records the sessions too. I can’t stop my gaze from darting toward the corners of the room, wondering where the concealed camera has been set up.
What the hell does the administration want withthat? It isn’t as if our readings usually expose more than superficial embarrassments.
There’s only so far Cole is willing to push back against their demands, though. He doesn’t want to jeopardize my position at the school by risking his own.
The knowledge that he’s enduring yet another torment on my behalf sits heavy in my gut as he calls one pair of students and then another and another to sit in the two chairs he’s placed in the middle of our semi-circle.
Each pair faces each other, their knees only a few inches apart. They go back and forth for several turns, reading each other’s personal ephemera and trying to pick out some detail they can share.
Most of the offerings are pretty mundane. What the other person ate for breakfast. How they got to school. Who they were chatting with on the green. How they felt during the class before this one. What they doodled in their notebook.
Occasionally, one person objects that their partner got it wrong. Mostly, they just nod in acknowledgment and take their own turn.
But everyone knows that higher marks go to more insightful divinations. If you can discern something your partner would want to hide from you—and the rest of the class—you’ll see a nice boost to your grade. So as each pair warms up, the exchange becomes increasingly tense.
Cadance Hathaway narrows her eyes at Kenneth Hearst. “You got a good dressing down last night—some lady telling you off.” Her cheeks are still pink from his last remarks about the zit she dabbed concealer over this morning and the bit of magical sabotage she inflicted on her neighbor in science class.
She doesn’t guess who the lady might have been, even though we’d all assume it’s Kenneth’s mother. If she makes an extraspeculation and it happens to be wrong, he can reject the entire statement and she gets no points.
His expression ticks, a flush spreading up his pale neck to match his ruddy hair. As much as he looks like he’d prefer to argue, he gives a quick dip of his head.
Cole claps his hands. “And you’re done. Decent showing from both of you. Back to your seats.”
His gaze sweeps over the rest of the room, and his jaw tightens. I brace myself, but I’m still not prepared for the next names out of his mouth.
“We have time for one more pair: Elodie Devine and Asher Raith.”
Across the room, Elodie’s tanned face remains carefully blank, but I catch the momentary tensing of her shoulders. As she rises from her desk, I peel myself off my chair.
