I walk straight to the bathroom after class.

I'm not about to do drugs or anything, so calm your horses. I just need a minute to myself.

Unfortunately, I'm tailed by Erin. Worst guy to hang with, I swear. Always on about achieving freedom from our government.

"Hey, Magno, where ya headed?"

I turn. "None of your business."

He frowns. "Jeez, I was just trying to see if you wanted to come to the party at Aurora's tonight."

I narrow my eyes. Aurora? But she was a person-hater. Why would she host a party?

"Fine, I'll come. But only because I wanna know what Aurora's up to," I say.

Erin grins. "Great, see you there."

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, but it's boring.

When I get home, I go to my room and slam the door. Lock it. I don't need Mom knowing I'm partying. I shower, then do some makeup, apply some eyeliner. I get a little crazy with the eyeliner and make a bunch of pretty swirly symbols. I put on some ripped jeans, a baggy shirt, and a flannel on.

I take one last look in the mirror, then flop on my bed and text Aurora.

[Hey, when's the party?]

She replies with, [Eight.]

I put my phone down and exhale. Then shake my hair out. It's still damp, even after blow-drying it.

What could be up with Aurora and Erin?

I think for a moment.

Then one name pops into my head. Jude Kirnan.

The guy that I can't face.

Last summer, I kind of, maybe, kissed him?

And he didn't take kindly to that.

To be fair, it was only on the cheek, but he slapped me.

I bury my face in my hands and groan. Please don't let that be what Aurora and Erin are doing.

My door opens and Mom is standing there, a letter in her hand.

She has her arms crossed. I sit up.

"What?"

Immediately, I can tell she's pissed.

"This letter is from a friend of yours, right?"

She tosses it at me. It smacks my shoulder.

I pick it up and freeze. Jude, that bastard.

Slowly, carefully, I read it. Shit.

"Mom, please, I can explain!"

"You'd better, young man."

I take a breath and comb my fingers through my hair. "So, Jude isn't my boyfriend. We've never dated. And I don't do drugs."

Mom narrows her eyes. "I find that hard to believe. Especially with that shirt and your freakish friends."

I wince. "They're not freakish. And I don't do drugs!"

"You'd better not be. . .you know," she says. "I will remove you from school and send you to a private one."

I look down. "I'm not."

We've talked about this before. If I don't like girls, she'll send me to a stupid school with nuns who think they can exorcise me. But I don't like girls. I just don't tell her that.

She leaves and I scream into my pillow.

How I hate this house.

It's seven-thirty, so I grab my bag and hoist myself out to window. Worst and best choice my parents ever made was letting me have a window.

I find my bike in the shed and bike to Aurora's. I find I'm a little early.

"Hey, Aurora," I say, setting my bag on the floor. "Need some help?"

Aurora looks up. "Yeah, I could use it."

We set up the party together and talk about Aurora's new friend who I suspect to be more.

Her name is Hera. Apparently, she's the same age as Aurora, and lives only two states over.

Guests trickle in slow at first, then steadily. Finally, the last of them are through the door.

The craziest of the partying has started, so I find a quieter corner.

I quickly find this to be a bad decision.

"Hey, there."

I look up and discover a brunet guy who smells strongly of alcohol.

"Hi," I say, and wave.

"You look awfully lonely over here. Care for some company?"

Usually, in parties, company either entails making out or something more intimate.

I shake my head. "Nah, I'm good."

His hand finds my hip. "You sure?"

I flinch away. "Yep. . ."

"'Cause I think you need a little loving," he says in my ear.

Suddenly, the guy is yanked off of me by the collar.

"I'm pretty sure he said he was good."

Jude fucking Kirnan.

He pushes the guy away.

The guy looks at him. Then me.

"Oh, I see. He's your little whore."

Jude turns to him. "No. He's not even my friend."

Somehow, the words sting.

The guy does leave me alone, though.

Jude sits next to me. "You alright?"

I scoot up against the wall and away from him. "Um, yeah. Thanks to you."

"I don't need your praise."

The way he says it is so cold. This guy pisses me off.

"Well, fine, don't take it then," I say, anger rising.

Jude looks to me, surprise etched into his features. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're okay. But I really didn't do much."

I roll my eyes. Of course, the golden boy would say that.

"What do you even want?" I ask, propping my chin on the heel of my palm.

Jude tilts his head. "To talk to you. I wanted to say I'm sorry for slapping you last summer."

"That was forever ago," I say. I'm eager to get off the subject.

"Well, you see, I didn't dislike it. It's just you surprised me."

I stare at him. Strawberry-blond hair in a shaggy cut. His undercut is darker, like brown. It's a little messy. Brown eyes focused intently on me. He's cute and it makes me mad. "Yeah, well, you surprised me with that slap."

His eyes are intense, like he's trying to figure out what I am.

"Please just kiss me," he says.

My gaze snaps so quickly to him, my head spins a little. "What?!"

His face is slightly flushed. "I want you to kiss me again."

I put my head in my hands. "Stop joking. It's not funny."

"I'm not joking. I've been meaning to ask you since, like, ten months ago."

I can't help looking up, letting my hands dangle. "No way. You're not. . .What about Madison?"

"I'm bi, Magno," Jude says, a small smile on his lips. "And she likes Erin."

I flush. "What the fuck. . ."

Jude brushes my hair out of my face, and I hate how much I like it.

"So, you really want me to kiss you?"

Jude nods. "Yeah."

I lean forward. Then yank back. "I'm too sober for this."

I get up and find a beer. I drink it, then another. Fifteen minutes later, I'm plastered.

Jude comes up next to me and I kiss him.

Wish granted, I think dimly.

I break away and inhale, but before I can kiss him again, someone hooks their arms under my shoulders and drags me away. I hear Jude yelling. The party is so chaotic, though, I highly doubt anyone hears him.

Something sticks into my neck and I slip into unconsciousness.

I wake to a masked figure standing over me. I jump hard and discover I'm bound to a chair. Wrists and ankles.

Also, I have a pounding headache.

It's very dark in here.

The figure steps back. "Good morning."

Instantly, I can tell they're using a voice-changer.

"Good morning," I reply. "Could you tell me where I am?"

"Underground."

I nod. Doesn't answer shit, but hey, gotta live the kidnapper life, right? "Why did you kidnap me?"

"I can't tell you that," the figure says. They sit on a chair in front of me.

"But I'm just your average high school student, why do you need me specifically?" I ask. I'm genuinely confused.

The figure tilts their head (creepy) and studies me. I think. I can't see their face. "You are far from average."

I consider this. If you count abusive households as something 'far from average', then sure. But otherwise, I'm as normal as normal gets.

I look up at the person. "Ooh, do I have, like, Obi-Wan Kenobi powers? The force? Maybe I can perform spells."

The figure pinches the bridge of their nose (I think) and sighs. "No. You have neither of those. I can't tell you much more."

Even through the voice-changer, I can hear exasperation. I grin.

"Got any ibuprofen? I got drunk at that party, and now my head hurts."

The figure gets up and digs through some hidden pocket. They come up with ibuprofen. "Here."

They stick three pills in my mouth and I swallow. It's weird, because I'm not used to dry-swallowing pills.

"So, do I have some special ability?" I ask. "Or is this just 'kidnap random ass highschoolers' day?"

"You do have an ability that you are clearly and frustratingly unaware of," the figure says.

"Okay, so I'm a wizard?"

"No." The figure turns away, hands on their hips. It's a very 'not in my twelve-thousand years of kidnapping' pose. Good.

I look up at the ceiling. It's made of dirt and moss. Personally, I think it's pretty. "Are the people who were at the party okay?"

The figure nods, turning back to me. "They weren't hurt. Our objective was you."

Wow, this guy sucks at their job.

"You said 'our'. Does that mean there are multiple people working with you?" I ask.

The figure seems to instinctively nod (again). Then holds up their hands. "No, it's just me."

I smile evilly. "Gotcha."

The person sags. "You. I hate you."

"Sounds about average for me," I say, looking around.

Mainly, the structure consists of dirt and moss. Dark green ferns pop up between cracks. The floor is stone, made in a circle. Faint light filters in from in front of me. Probably a door. Pink and purple flowers crop up in clusters. Yellow flowers here and there. Plenty of mushrooms. Mostly fly agarics, but also morels, honey fungus, amethyst deceivers, autumn chanterelles, and glistening inkcaps. There's also a circle of fairy ring champignons. Great, I'm in a fairy site.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the giant tree behind me that's supporting the ceiling. I think it's an ash.

"You can't use your ability here," the figure says. "You're in a fairy circle."

"Yeah, I guessed that. The fairy ring champignons are a dead giveaway. And circles are magic cancellers," I say. "I've done my research."

The figure stares (I think) at me. "You indeed have done your research."

I tilt my head back and forth. "Ah, well, you know, I try."

They sit back in their chair.

"Can I see your face?" I ask. "I think you're either really ugly or drop-dead gorgeous. No in between."

The figure contemplates for a moment. "Fine."

Then they take their mask off.

I was right. Drop-dead gorgeous, even though I like guys. Black hair hangs around her face in a not-so-ugly bob. Her skin is pale, like the moon. Her eyes are like charcoal and seem to hold the same heat. I think she hates me. Her face is slim and somewhat angular. Brows arched not too high, long eyelashes, mouth set in a grim line. Pretty lips. Definitely an oval face shape. I can see that her muscles are sculpted. She could absolutely kick my butt. There's also something familiar about her. Something that brings Jude to mind.

Pretty stark contrast from my darker skin, freckles, and thin, not muscular body.

"You're. . .very beautiful," I say. "Bet the guys and girls go crazy."

She doesn't make much acknowledgement to what I said, other than a slight shrug. That mannerism is so familiar.

"Madison," I say. Blurt, really.

She turns sharply.

"You're Madison, aren't you?" I ask. Everything points to it. The muscles, the way she was acting, the voice-changer, the mask and suit. All of it makes sense if this is Madison.

She pauses, then shakes her head. "I don't know a Madison."

"But you know an Erin, don't you?"

Madison freezes, then realizes she's screwed. "Yes, I know Erin."

"Great. Now we have a mutual buddy," I say. "Look, I'm just curious as to what I'm here for. The place is beautiful, by the way."

Madison does the little shrug again. "It's nice."

She puts her mask back on.

"What's that for?" I ask, tilting my head.

"I have to go find the. . .boss."

The voice-changer makes her sound so weird.

She leaves and I check out my binds. Sturdy rope. Yep, I'm fucked either way.

At least my headache's not as bad. And my friends are okay.

I sit here like this for a while before Madison and some other guy come along.

The new guy is. . .interesting. He's got a somewhat sturdy build and he's tall. Like really tall. Not alien kind of tall, but taller than your average person. In the dim light, it's hard to make it out, but I think he's got green eyes. And maybe black hair? Perhaps brown? He's tan. He's dressed more casually than I expected a kidnapper to be. He wears light brown pants, a white collared undershirt with a nice. . .blue, I think, shirt over it. It's long-sleeved, and I don't know how he stands all that considering it's summer.

What he does next absolutely astounds me.

He walks forward, crouches, and asks, "Are you okay? You're not hurt, right? I told Ray to be nice. . ."

I blink. Several times. "I'm fine."

Ray is also a familiar nickname, and suddenly I know who's crouching in front of me.

Bryce Hamilton. Fellow highschooler who, surprisingly, hangs around Ray a lot, even though Ray's very much not like him.

"Good." He stands and signals Madison. She cuts my binds away.

I just sit there, baffled. How did Bryce organize this?

"Magno? Are you sure you're alright?"

I look up. "Oh, I'm great, thanks."

Bryce helps me up and I stretch my arms over my head. More than a few areas in my spine pop. I sigh and let my arms hang by my sides.

"So, what's the agenda for today?" I ask.

Bryce appears surprised. ". . .Well, um, we need to activate your ability."

I nod. "Yeah, I heard about that. No one wants to tell me what it actually is, though."

Bryce chews one of his nails. Classic Bryce. "It's. . .uh, your ability is very mentally centered. I can't tell you the details, because I don't know them. But I can tell you, in the wrong hands, it's dangerous."

"Okay, great, thank you so much," I say. "We'd better get to work if we wanna figure this thing out."

It turns out fate hates me, or something, because right at that moment, I hear alarms blare faintly.

Madison and Byce share a look. Then turn to me.

"Magno," Bryce says.

"We have to get you out of here," Madison finishes.

I frown. "I thought that was the plan?"

Madison picks me up princess-style. "Let's go."

"Um. . .okay."

"I'll hold them off," Bryce says to Madison. "Get him as far away as possible. Take him to Base Three."

Madison nods and Bryce takes off in a different direction. I'm too busy trying to figure out what mess I've gotten into to pay attention to anything around me.

What the fuck is 'Base Three'? Why did they panic at the alarms? Who is here and why is it such a big deal?

Well, I swiftly learn that.

Someone grabs Madison's shoulders and we're yanked back.

I fall on rocks and scrape my palms. No biggie.

Madison is carefully restrained by someone I recognize instantly.

"Jude?!" I blurt. I'm shaken from the fall, but this is somehow worse.

He looks over at me and there's no denying it. That's Jude.

"Hey, Magno."

I stand and walk up to him. Put my hands on my hips. "Let her go."

"She's a threat," he replies.

I raise a brow. "She didn't hurt me, and I'm fairly certain we were running to safety."

"Magno, don't be a fool."

"Let her go," I say. "Last time I ask."

"She's a---"

"I said let her go!"

Something snaps in my chest. Some kind of rope, and something unravels behind it.

Jude's expression goes blank and he straightens, then moves a few steps away.

I pull Madison's binds off. "You alright?" I help her up.

She dusts herself off. "I'm okay."

"Go," I say. "I'll take care of Jude."

She hesitates. Then nods. "Fine."

I try to grasp at that unraveled thing in my chest. It's slippery, like silk. Finally, I manage to grab it.

"Go back to your crew," I say.

Jude doesn't question, just starts walking.

I go after Madison.

Mind control. That's my power.

Base Three is fun. That is, if you like short guys who yell at you in another language, half your high school friends, and a bunch of other grumpy old guys.

Also, cold coffee, some dude who knows what everyone smells like, despite not having sniffed them (maybe it's a magic power like mine?), and more dudes who play with swords.

So, yeah, Base Three is great.

"Hey, smells guy," I say. "What do I smell like?"

He looks at me. "Sweat. Also. . .Valentino Uomo Born In Roma, faintly."

I pick at my pocket chain. "Yep, sounds about right."

A girl with light brown hair sits next to me on the bench. "You're Magno, right?"

I shrug. "I've also been known as a number of slurs, the Italian transfer, and Magnet, so I'm Magno if you want me to be."

"I'm Hera," she says, and holds her hand out.

"Wait, Hera?" I turn to her. "Do you know Aurora?"

She nods. "Of course, I know Aurora. We agreed to be roommates when we get to college."

I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Who knew your best friend's roommate-to-be could also be one of your captors?

That short guy walks over, hands on his hips. "Is your cup empty, gör?"

I look up. "Brat? My name's Magno. Also, yes, it is empty, thank you very much."

"Then go throw it away. The silicone band goes in recycle, the cup gets crushed and put in the compost bin."

He walks off and I nudge Hera. "What's his problem?"

"Messes stress him out, so he likes to keep places clean. Also, he's very hung up on keeping the earth habitable," she says.

"Oh." I get up and pry the silicone band from my cup, then throw them in their respective areas.

Hera comes over to me. "He's the boss of Base Three, so treat him nice, alright?"

I shrug one shoulder. "I'll try."

Someone bumps me from behind. I turn and find. . .

Erin.

"Erin?" I say. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, dingus," he says. "How do you think our group got ahold of you?"

I punch his arm lightly. "You ass. You could've said something. Why did you guys go to such lengths? You should have just told me."

Erin stretches his arms. "I don't know. I got orders from the boss not to tell you. Anyway, I came to tell you Emmett wants to talk to you."

"That's Mr. Emmett to you, Erin."

Mister Clean from earlier smacks Erin's head with a book and he flinches.

"Mr. Emmett," Erin corrects himself, rubbing his head.

"Okay, take me to this Mr. Emmett," I say.

Erin leads me through a series of halls and to a door. He gestures to it. "He's in there."

I open the door and find a guy in his mid-to-late thirties. He looks like a dad.

I clear my throat. "You asked for me?"

He looks up from a stack of papers. "Ah, Magno. Please, sit."

I take a seat in the chair across from him. I can't help being fidgety. I pick at the hem of my shirt and shift my weight back and forth.

He studies me for a moment. "You're quite shifty."

"I get that a lot." I try to still myself.

Mr. Emmett sets his papers aside and laces his fingers. "I'm told you possess a powerful ability. One that could wreak havoc if used incorrectly."

I laugh nervously. "Yep, that's me. Havoc likes to stalk me, it seems."

Terrible response.

"Is that so? Well, I hope we can stop that, for the sake of you and everyone else in the world."

I really don't like that wording. I remain silent for fear of messing up.

"You hail from an abusive household," Mr. Emmett says. "Your father is an alcoholic, and your mother is a religious woman."

I cringe. "How do you know that?"

"We've been watching you for some time. There were doubts as to if you were the right one."

My curiosity burns brighter.

"Okay, I have to ask," I say, "you got something against Jude?"

Mr. Emmett frowns. "Of course not. He merely wants to get you back, and we cannot allow that until we've trained you properly."

I think for a moment. Either way I'm a tool.

"What would you do with me, once I've finished training?" I ask.

"Beneath us lies a great threat. One that is eager to be freed. You are the only one we've found that can stop this threat."

"So, basically, I'm your little soldier?"

Mr. Emmett, with no hesitation, nods. "Exactly."

Well, at least it's more interesting than history class.

"Fine," I say. "I'll do it."

Mr. Emmett looks briefly surprised, then reaches across the table and shakes my hand. "Thank you for understanding."

I shrug. "It sounded better than going home. But one thing. You said, 'you're the only one we've found'. Does that mean there are more like me?"

". . .We suspect there to be more, but nothing is solid," Mr. Emmett says. "We're doing everything we can."

He stands and shows me out of his office. He hands me a folded piece of paper.

"The map of Base Three is in there," he says. "Please, get to know the place."

I nod. "'Kay. When does training start?"

"Five 'o clock sharp, tomorrow."

I am not used to stretching.

Now I only say this because my trainer turns out to be Short Guy.

I discover his name is Lenin. Though most people seem to call him Leni or Len. Kind of cute, if you ask me.

Lenin, on the other hand, is not cute. He’s mean. And German? Maybe? He definitely knows German, because he’s been screaming in it at me. All morning.

I’m wearing ridiculous clothes that are ‘good for stretching’ and didn’t even get coffee.

I also found out I can do the splits. Crazy, I know. But Lenin forced me into it. I think I would’ve preferred never knowing.

“Arms out, gör!”

Never making friends with a German again. First Erin, now this twink. I just can’t escape them.

“I’m trying,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Further,” he says.

I stretch my arms. I feel the muscles all the way to my hips protest. Great, I probably pulled something.

“I can see why Italy went to war with Germany,” I say. Probably shouldn’t piss my trainer off, but I can’t help it. He’s like an angry chihuahua.

“Is that a threat, gör?”

I shrug, which causes more protesting in my muscles. “Take it how you want to.”

He sighs. “You’re done. Get on your feet.”

I relax and almost scream when my entire body reminds me that I’m an idiot.

Then I stand and do the stupid cult salute my captors came up with.

“Your hand’s facing the wrong direction.”

I switch my hand around. “Whatever. What’s next?”

Lenin stares hard at me. “Feel that worm in your chest?”

That surprises me. “You know about that?”

“Of course I know. There’s not much I *don’t* know about you.”

“That’s. . .really creepy,” I say.

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, grab that worm. Once you do that, give me a command. Don’t ask, demand.”

I focus hard on that thread. It’s just as evasive as last time. It takes me ten minutes and four attempts, but I manage to get ahold of it.

I open my eyes. “Drop and give me twenty.”

Lenin’s expression goes blank, just like Jude’s, and he does as I say.

For such a tiny man, he’s fierce with those push-ups. He’s probably more impressive than Vikus Kumar. It causes my focus to slip, and I lose hold of the worm.

Lenin’s expression returns to normal and he stands.

“Ew, gross,” he says, and wipes his hands on a cloth.

I frown. “You made me get down and stretch like a fucking ballerina, but you can’t take a little dirt?”

Lenin glares up at me. “Unless you want to do another two hours, I’d suggest you shut your mouth.”

That shuts me up, at least.

“Take a break, then we’ll do some more training. Your concentration is awful,” Lenin says.

I walk to the door. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Then I leave.

Hera hands me a towel and water. “Here.”

“Thanks,” I reply, and wipe my face. I don’t really sweat much, so it’s barely damp.

I take a long swallow of water.

“Watching you struggle was funny,” Hera says.

I choke on my water and start coughing violently. Hera pats my back.

“Jeez, don’t die.”

I slowly recover and catch my breath. “Why don’t you do the splits and then tell me it’s funny?”

Hera holds her hands up. “No, I’m good.”

I lean against the wall and prop my foot against it. “I don’t get this. I mean, I never even knew I *could* control minds. Even so, what does that entail? Sure, if the enemy’s human or sentient, it’ll work. But if it’s not? What do I do then?”

Hera leans beside me. “Don’t ask me. If you’ve got questions, Leni’s the one to ask.”

I look at her. “Hey, can I call him Leni? Or will he yell some mean curse words at me in German?”

Hera shrugs a shoulder. “Probably both.”

“Guess we’ll have to see.”

I jog back into the practice room. I find Lenin doing his own stretches.

It’s hard to describe, but watching short men stretch is hilarious.

I mean, it’s impressive that he can do standing splits, but it’s also genuinely a knee-slapper. Especially with his sour expression. And it hurts really bad to hold my laughter in. I wait for him to stand straight again.

“Hey, Leni, I got some questions.”

He looks at me and puts his hands on his hips (the sass). “What the **ficken do you want, you gör?”

Yep, mean cuss word in German.

The slightly raised brow, the hands, the down-turned mouth all takes me out. I collapse in laughter.

Lenin walks over and drags me up by the elbow. “Next is hip flexor.”

I stand and pat my hips. “Doesn’t sound hard.”

Remind me, bestie, to never tempt fate again.

Hip flexors are awful. Lenin has me do three, and every and all variations suck.

He makes me do a number of other stretches, nothing that seems to affect my focus, though.

Then we take another dig at the worm.

This time, I get forty push-ups out of Lenin. It gives me a petty satisfaction to order him around, considering he’s the boss of Base Three, and I’m just an average high schooler.

He calls the end of practice.

“Go hang out with Erin, or something.”

I salute again, purposefully messing it up. “Yessir!”

He waves his hand and I leave.

It’s not all that late, but I’m exhausted. First, I got kidnapped, then I got up at five and stretched for almost six hours straight.

I go to my room and collapse in bed. I’m still dressed in those ridiculous ballerina clothes.

At this point, I’m too tired to care. I drift to sleep thinking of my stupid chest worm.

Just a bit of advice here, don’t ever do the ice bucket challenge.

First, it’s cold. Second, it’s fucking cold.

I wake gasping for air and drenched. And freezing.

Erin stands over me, holding a bowl and one hand on his hip. “Awake yet?”

I wipe my face and strip my leotard off. “More than I’d prefer. Stronzo.”

He just grins. “See you in the common rooms, then.” And walks out of the room.

I take off the rest of my clothes and dry off, then get in some comfy casual ones.

Base Three’s got good sweatpants, and some overall nice T-shirts. They’re just really plain when it comes to color.

I make my way to the common rooms using the map Emmett gave me. Even with the map, though, I get lost twice.

Lenin and Erin are there, Hera too, and Mister Smells Guy.

I take a seat. “So, what’s the deal?”

Lenin crosses his legs and I almost burst out laughing, but manage to hold it in. “We have more training to do. Also, Mario here would like to do your training today. He said you’re both magic users, and also Italian.”

Mario. Not a bad name.

Mister Smells Guy—now known as Mario—reaches across the coffee table and shakes my hand. “I look forward to working with you.”

Yep, definitely Italian.

I incline my head. “Yeah, me too.”

“Leni’s mean to him,” Erin says.

Lenin smacks the back of his head. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

Erin rubs his head. “You’re still mean about it, though.”

“You kind of are, Leni,” Hera says. Lenin smacks her, too.

“Okay, okay,” I say. “I’m guessing we start now?”

Mario nods. “As soon as possible. First, I would suggest finding good clothes to stretch in. And also, something that helps you focus.”

I think of my soaked ballerina clothes. “Hey, Lenin, you got any—”

“Of course I do. Follow me.” He gets up and walks off toward the practice room. Mario and I stand and follow him.

“Good luck!” Erin calls.

“Vaffanculo!” I call back.

I can hear him laughing. The few words I taught him in Italian were ‘fuck you’ and ‘asshole’. And ‘egg’. He didn’t care to listen for more.

I catch up with Lenin, and he manages to wrangle my shifty ass into more ballerina clothes.

He pats my shoulder. “Have fun. Mario’s bound to be even worse than I am.”

Then he leaves. I don’t know that it’s possible for someone to be worse than Lenin is, but I hope it’s not.

Very quickly, I discover I was wrong.

Mario is worse. By a long shot. He keeps yelling things I smell like and telling me I need to wash my hair. He makes me do more stretches than Lenin and ones that cause my muscles to die. He also makes me do the worm thing four times in a row and I find out that magic has drawbacks.

I’m currently bent over, puking on the floor and struggling to breathe.

Mario pats my back. “Get it out.”

Another wave of acid-flavored vomit. Then peace. A brief moment of peace.

Now my throat and nose burn.

Mario hands me a cloth and I clean my face. “Did I make progress. . .at least?”

He nods. “Leaps and bounds, lad.”

I do a thumbs-up. “Great.”

Then I pass out.

It’s a long while before I come to. And when I do, it’s to Lenin’s face.

Quite a scary sight, considering he always looks ready for murder.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

His face moves from my sight. I sit up and find I’m not in the common rooms, nor my room, but a strange new one. It’s very orderly and nicely colored. It reminds me of chocolate and Valentine’s.

“Where am I?” I ask.

“My room. I’m the only one in Base Three with the equipment to treat magic poisoning.”

My chest is sore, right at the sternum. “Okay. What. . .happened?”

Lenin sighs. “Mario caused you to get magic poisoning from overuse. Then something strange happened. Your chest worm took physical form and attacked him. He’s still in the infirmary.”

I blink. “Will he be alright?!”

Lenin looks at me and for the first time I see something other than anger. Worry. Just the tiniest little bit.

“He’ll be fine. Your worm didn’t go crazy; it just broke his nose.”

“Just—Just broke his nose?!” I blurt. “That’s terrible! I have to go see him. Apologize.”

I go to get up, but Lenin holds me down. “Did I give you clearance to leave? Mario’s in great care, and you’re still hurt.”

My chest responds to his words by throbbing. I groan and rub the area with my index and middle fingers. “Ouch.”

Lenin gives me a stern look and I lay back down. “What exactly is my body doing?”

He sighs. “It’s. . .complicated. Your magic is refusing your body. In simple terms, your magic is a little gör and it hates you.”

“Is that why my chest is so sore?” I ask.

“Part of it,” Lenin says. “I also had to punch you.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, okay. That’s totally normal. You punch hard, dude.”

“I only did it to cancel out the control of your worm.”

I nod. “Alright. Why did I puke?”

Lenin looks up. “Your body was attempting to cleanse you of your magic. That’s why your chest hurts so bad. It managed to detach your worm.”

“Great. More fantastic news.” I sit up a little bit. “Is there a way to re-attach it?”

Lenin shrugs. “Maybe. Right now, I’m trying to fix the issue of the damage it did to your body.”

“What did it do?”

“Caused your legs to temporarily stop working. I’m trying to get them back online,” he says.

I’m speechless.

Another bit of advice, don’t obtain magic. It’s more hassle than it’s worth.

I flop back onto the bed. “Well, shit, man. This sucks.”

“It shouldn’t take more than a few days. Erin and Hera will visit,” Lenin says. “It won’t be too bad.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

A knock sounds and I perk up. Lenin gets the door and Erin’s there.

“Guess who?” he walks in and someone follows him.

“Madison!” I wave at her. “You’re okay.”

She waves back. “Yeah. Thanks to you, I managed to escape.”

Erin drags her over and we talk about Jude and other random ass topics until Lenin calls them for dinner and brings me a tray.

“Eat slowly and be sure to chew properly,” he says. “It’s essential to your healing process to get nutrition.”

I smile. “You sound like a mom.”

He gives me a flat look. “Real funny. Eat your food, gör.”

Then he leaves.

I do as he told me. The food, despite its lackluster appearance, is delicious. Probably because I haven’t eaten in a couple days. Also, because it’s beef stew.

When I finish, I lay there a while.

Hera helps me brush my teeth.

Then I stare at the ceiling in the dark, praying for sleep. It eventually comes.

Chest worms are tiring.

The next morning, I am met with death.

In a bottle.

“Drink the medicine, gör!” Lenin says, shouts really, and holds the bottle out to me.

I shake my head. “Never!”

“So help me, God, I will have Hera restrain you if you don’t drink it.”

Hera, who has been listening, stiffens. Then salutes. “Whatever you require, sir.”

Lenin gestures to me and Hera pins me down. Curse my twig muscles.

They pry my mouth open and make me drink that horrid healing juice.

Once I’ve drank the proper dose, they release me and I go into a coughing fit.

Hera gives me orange juice. “Jeez, you’re so dramatic. Even Erin was better than you.”

“Did he have a stupid chest worm that insisted on tearing out of his body?” I ask. “Because I do.”

“Well, no. But he had his own hoops to jump through.” Hera sits on the edge of the bed. “And if you want that worm to behave, you have to *drink the medicine*.”

I scowl. “I think I prefer history class, now.”

Lenin rolls his eyes. “This is why I never had kids.”

“Oh, please. Pretty much every kid in Base Three treats you like their dad,” Hera says. “You’re just yet to accept it.”

Lenin frowns. “Don’t remind me.”

“I hate you all,” I declare.

“Good for you,” Lenin replies. Then him and Hera get up and leave.

I continue to stare at the ceiling. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt at home. Somehow, being in this underground facility feels more like home than my actual house.

Maybe I should just stay here forever. That would be nice.

The next two days go by much like this. Medicine, contemplating my place in the world, sleeping, eating, repeat.

Finally, it’s the morning of the fourth day. Lenin and Erin help me to stand. Really, I don’t need their help. Lenin did his job and he did it well. My legs are pretty much brand new.

I walk around the room a little and then put my hands on my hips and grin at Lenin. “Nice job.”

He’s too busy studying my legs, though. Seems even he has self-doubt. He takes one last long look then looks up. “They should work fine. If you experience any discomfort or pain, notify me immediately.”

I laugh. “I’ll be fine, dude. Quit worrying.”

He isn’t convinced. “Training resumes tomorrow. Enjoy today.”

“Thank you,” I say. I really do mean it. I’m glad to have my legs back in order.

I wave. Hera and Erin follow me out, but Lenin remains. That’s fine. It’s his room, after all.

Suddenly, I remember Mario. I turn to Erin and Hera.

“You guys know where Mario is?” I ask.

“Still in the infirmary. He won’t be out for another week,” Hera says.

“Busted his nose pretty bad,” Erin says, and taps his own nose.

I cringe a little. “Yeah, so I heard.”

“Visitors are approved, though,” Hera says. “We could take you there.”

Erin shakes his head. “I’ve gotta cover controls today.”

Hera gives him a flat look. “You could’ve said something.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll find the infirmary on my own. It’ll be good for me.”

Hera looks at me. “You sure?”

I nod. “I’m great at not getting lost.”

That is one hundred percent a lie.

I get lost four times on the way. One time, I end up in a supply closet.

Finally, I find the infirmary. I enter and am amazed.

There’re beds upon beds. Half of them are empty, but the other half have people I’ve never even seen.

I tap a nurse’s shoulder.

She turns. “What?”

“Um, do you know where Mario is?”

She points to a bed and I go there.

He really doesn’t look bad for having his nose broken.

“Hey, man,” I say.

“Hello.”

I gesture to his nose. “Sorry about. . .you know, the nose. And everything.”

God, I’m so awkward. It’s a wonder I have any friends.

“It’s a trivial matter,” he replies. “It hurts, but not too bad. The nurses here are very kind.”

I sit on the edge of his bed. And am suddenly struck violently with an idea. “Hey, wanna try something reckless and awesome?”

Mario gives me a slightly less than trusting look. “. . .Be careful.”

I grin. “Will do.”

I grasp for my chest worm again. A pang radiates through my chest, but I ignore it. I grip onto my chest thread once I have it and place my hands over Mario’s face. I focus intensely on the image of him healing. The *feeling*. Some weird sparkly dust appears out of thin air and drifts down from my palms onto his face.

The bone, miraculously, rights itself and the muscles and tissue do the same.

He makes a small noise of discomfort, then touches his nose.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Aaaaaand that’s my energy zapped.

I slump over. “Whoo.”

“You don’t sound enthused,” Mario points out.

“I feel like someone ripped my chest apart and then sloppily put it back together,” I say.

We sit for a moment, then Mario pats my back. “It’ll be alright, lad. Go find Lenin.”

I give a dry chuckle. “If I can stand.”

Somehow, I *do* manage to stand, though it’s incredibly hard. I stumble out of the infirmary and bump right into Lenin.

He sets me upright and stares at me. “You look unwell.”

“I don’t feel so great, yeah,” I say. “Did a little mostly unsupervised magic.”

Lenin’s expression changes. He looks pissed and disappointed at the same time.

“My room. Now.”

“Yes sir.”

We make our way to his room, and he makes me lay again. Then he brings back death in a bottle.

“Nuh-uh!” I say. “I’ll stick with magic poisoning.”

Lenin sighs hard through his nose. “I’ll just get Erin.”

I groan. “Fine!”

He helps me drink the stupid nasty medicine. Then checks my forehead.

“Just like a mom,” I say. Then yawn.

I close my eyes.

“’Night.”

Suddenly I’m intrigued by what he’d do if he thought I was asleep.

I fake a quiet snore.

“Maybe I’ll adopt you so I can rightfully call you gör,” he says.

“And I can call you Mom,” I mutter. I feel him stiffen.

“Go to sleep, gör.”

Then he leaves.

I wouldn’t mind Lenin as a mom.

If you’ve ever met a god, you know they always choose the most uncomfortable and inconvenient places known to man to dwell.

I only know this because I just met my first God. The fridge one.

Lenin healed my magic poisoning up real nice, and I was introduced to Yarrow, the God of the Fridge.

She’s actually like twelve and apparently Erin’s little sister.

“I didn’t even know you had a little sister,” I say.

Erin shrugs. “I never had reason to mention her.”

Yarrow responds very well to cuddles and hugs, which I am now showering her with. She plays with my hair, which has grown a teeny bit longer than I like. If it makes her happy, I’ll grow it out.

Lenin sits on her other side, brushing out her long hair. It’s interesting. Erin’s hair is brown, but hers is blonde. I suppose siblings can look wildly different.

“You’ve got to take better care of your hair, Yarrow. This is ridiculous,” Lenin says, pulling the brush through her hair again.

Yarrow twirls strands of my hair around her finger. “I know. You’ve told me before.”

Lenin sighs. “Again, why I never had kids.”

I laugh. “And people say I’m dramatic.”

“Well, you are,” Hera says from what Base Three classifies as a kitchen.

I throw her a glare. She just responds with the middle finger.

“Hey, where’s Aurora?” Erin asks. He’s perched on the arm of Mario’s chair. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here today?”

“She’s a little busy. She told me she’d be by in about an hour,” Hera says.

“Aurora’s almost never busy,” Erin says. “What the hell could she be doing to keep her three hours?”

I can see Hera chewing her nails. “I’m trying not to think about that.”

“Hey,” I call. “Chill out. Aurora’s, like, goddess of martial arts. Also, she’s not stupid. She’ll be fine.”

Hera shakes her head. “That’s not what I had in mind.”

Oh. *That’s* what she was thinking.

“Like I said, Aurora isn’t stupid,” I say. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s really loyal. I mean, we’re still friends since frickin’ kindergarten. And I’m a mentally ill disaster. If she can handle me, you guys’ll be fine.”

Hera frowns. “Sure.”

We sit in silence for a while. Nobody has anything to say.

Then my curiosity decides to be a bitch.

“You guys know what happened to Bryce?” I ask. “Is he alright?”

“Bryce made it to Base Five,” Lenin says. “He’s currently in the infirmary. He sustained quite a few scrapes.”

I smile at Lenin and clasp my hands together. “Can I visit him?”

He gives me a flat look. “You’re going to try to heal him, aren’t you?”

I purse my lips. “Um. . .no?”

He sighs. “Goddammit. Fine. I’ll have Mario and Erin take you.”

Mario stands, but Erin groans.

“Why am I on babysitting duty?”

Lenin glares at him and I feel a little scared. “Would you like to stay here and be put on cleaning instead?”

Erin shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. I’ll go.”

Lenin goes back to brushing Yarrow’s hair. “You’ll leave in half an hour. Mario, if the gör tries anything stupid, pull him out. If he overexerts himself, you know what to do.”

Mario nods. “Yessir.”

“Go get ready,” Lenin says. “You might regret it if you’re not prepared.”

I bound off to my room and dig through my clothes ‘til I come up with my party ones.

They’ve been ironed out, I can tell. I wonder if Lenin did them. . .

Then I find my pocket chain stuffed into my drawer. I throw on those, a pair of black sneakers, and some light makeup. I look very emo. Perfect.

I leave my room and track down Erin. “Yo, dipshit. You got any markers or colored pens?”

Erin shrugs a shoulder. “You can check my room.”

He jerks a thumb down a hallway.

“’Kay, thanks.”

I do indeed find markers *and* pens in his room. I use those to doodle peace signs, hearts, pride flags, and a bunch of other stuff on my sneaker sole. It’s really fun and adds life to your shoes. You should try it.

When I’m done, I put the markers back and catch up with Mario.

“So, do I have to do, like, magic preparation?” I ask.

Mario nods. “Usually, for someone like you, meditation or doing something that relaxes you is advised.”

I frown. “Like me?”

“Mental-centered magic,” Mario explains. “It’s not good to be wound up, emotional, or distracted when performing mostly mental magic.”

“Oh, okay.”

What relaxes me? I may be my own person, but I rarely know what I want. Side effect of hiding practically everything about yourself.

Mario bumps my shoulder with his own. “Go chill while me and Erin get ready. We still have to magically prepare ourselves.”

I smile. “I’ll try.”

One thing I’ve realized living at Base Three is I need more room decorations. That’s something I’ll have to inquire about.

I lay on my bed and lace my fingers over my mid-riff. The ceiling should be filled with glow-in-the-dark stars, but it’s just blank. The walls should have posters, drawings, pictures, art. Those are things I have at home, but not here.

My door opens and I look. Erin closes the door (thank you, Erin), then lays next to me. “Missing the stars?”

I laugh. “You know me too well.”

“I am your best friend.”

We sit in silence for a while. Then Erin turns onto his side. “Hey, Magno.”

I look over at him. He looks so serious.

“What?” I ask.

He stares at me a moment, then shifts his gaze to the bed beneath him. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

I turn onto my side too, holding my head up with my hand. “Erin. What the hell do you want? Don’t play it off.”

“It’s just. . .” he trails off. Takes a breath. Rakes a hand through his hair. “You’ve always known what you want. But me. . .I don’t. I get confused. Mixed up.”

I tilt my head. “Confused about what?”

His ears are red. “Me. My *feelings*. I. . .just don’t know what I’m feeling. Ever, really.”

“Erin, are you saying you’re into guys?” I ask.

He stiffens, then nods.

“Look at me,” I say.

He obliges.

“I don’t care. Whatever you feel, I love you either way.”

His face pinkens. “I don’t *know* what I feel. I just want confirmation.”

I smile. “So, what are you asking?”

“Will you. . .help me?”

“Help you how?”

He sits up quickly. “Never mind.”

I sit up too. “Erin.”

Erin looks at me and I take his face in my hands gently. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

He looks down and nods. So, I do.

It’s slow, questioning. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.

But the mood switches when Erin’s hands find my waist.

I don’t pull away, though. Erin’s surprisingly good at kissing. And I’m a touch-starved teen.

My arms slide around his neck, and I thread my fingers in his hair. He doesn’t move his hands, but he does kiss me back. Multiple times.

“Erin,” I say against his mouth.

“Magno,” he replies.

I can’t help smiling.

“You sure you wanna—?” I start.

“Yes.”

One word followed by another kiss.

Jude briefly passes my mind, but I won’t let that bastard ruin this.

We continue like this until we’re jump scared by Mario opening the door.

His eyes widen at the sight of us. “Oh, my. I’m sorry.”

I pull away from Erin in an attempt to not embarrass him, but we’re both red in the face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Erin mumbles, eyes on the floor.

Mario nods. “I’m sure it’s not. I came to tell you it’s time to head out.”

I do a thumbs-up. “Be right there.”

He leaves and I bump Erin’s shoulder with mine. “That was nice.”

“Yeah. Really cleared things up for me,” Erin says.

“Hey.”

He looks at me and I kiss him one last time. Feather-light on the mouth, then I stand and offer him a hand.

He takes it. I sling a bag stuffed with supplies over my shoulder.

We find Mario out in the common room, I think it’s called. He’s discussing something with Lenin.

We wait for him to finish, then I point a thumb at what I assume to be the door.

“Ready?”

He nods and the three of us depart.

Let me tell you, bestie, riding shotgun with the guy who found you making out with your best friend is *so* awkward.

Especially when he bumps my elbow with his and says, “So, that’s what relaxes you?”

I flush bright red, eyes wide. “What? Why would you—?!” I bury my face in my hands. “So, what if it is?”

He chuckles. “Glad to know you did something that was good for your mental health.”

I groan. “Can we stop talking about this?”

“Sure.”

Mario is too much like a dad. Very much in your business, but also chill.

The ride to Base Five is one, gorgeous. Two, really fucking awkward. Three, tiring.

By the time we make it there, I would rather take a nap.

Then I see the place, and suddenly, I’m awake.

You know those places that remind you of magic? Like they’re remodeled libraries from the 1800s?

Yeah, that’s what Base Five looks like.

The building is at least three stories and made entirely of gray brick. There’re a million windows framed by crossvine. It’s surrounded by a towering forest. Flowering bushes in both pots and the ground are scattered around the area, with a variety of mushrooms to go with them. The roof of the building is black shingles. Then there’s a large trellis on either side, smothered in wisteria and climbing hydrangea. Ivy snakes up the walls of the base. All in all, the place feels like a fairy home.

Erin slips his hand into mine, and I lace our fingers.

We’ve held hands like this a lot, but it feels kind of strange, considering I don’t know if he wants us to be official or not.

Mario steers us to the wide double doors made of bog oak. A bunch of pretty swirls and flowers are carved into the wood, and I can’t help running my fingers across the grooves as we pass.

“The infirmary’s underground,” Erin says quietly to me. “It’s not too far.”

I nod, but I’m distracted by the inside.

The floors are made of some kind of exquisite wood that resembles cherry. The floor is waxed, so it’s slippery and glossy. There’s a staircase carved from alabaster that spirals up to the other floors. On each post is a lantern. Three hallways and a living room are connected to the main entrance. The walls aren’t blank, no. They’re painted with all kinds of murals, from pirates raiding a cave, to witches brewing a potion, to a schoolgirl listening to music. Every single mural has a different painting or drawing style, so I think it’s safe to assume that multiple people contributed. At the end of the entrance hall is a huge sliding glass door that I assume leads to a courtyard or garden.

My head starts to spin from the luxury.

I only come back to my senses when Erin tugs my hand. “Hey, it’s this way.”

I look at him. “Oh. Yeah. I’m coming.”

The infirmary is just as insane as the actual building. It’s not plain white like most others but splashed with color.

Everyone is either wearing super old vintage-style clothing, or 1980s fashion.

I stand rooted in place, the bright colors and crazy clothes starting to hurt my eyes and head.

Erin shakes my shoulder. “Magno? C’mon. Bryce isn’t far from here.”

I blink. “How do you know where he is in this sea of people?”

He smiles. “He’s waving wildly at us, so I don’t think it’s that hard.”

My eyes scan the crowd. I still don’t find him.

“Okay. Take me to him,” I say, holding up me and Erin’s intwined fingers.

He pulls me through droves of people. It astounds me that so many of them are up and about, but the beds are still packed full. Base Five must be the hub.

And now I see Bryce. He’s waving to us with a smile so bright I’m scared it doesn’t belong to him.

I wave back and pull Erin over to him.

“What are you guys doing here?” Bryce asks as soon as we’re there. “I thought you were at Base Three.”

“We were,” I say. “But I found out you were here, so I decided to come.”

“Mostly because he wants to heal you,” Erin says. I shoot him a mock glare. He just chuckles.

Bryce sits up further. “You can heal people?”

I nod. “Found out I could a couple days ago. I think it was two.”

Bryce frowns. “How?”

“How can I heal people or—?”

“How did you find out?” Bryce looks me in the eyes for a split second, then goes to chewing his nails.

“My thought process was if I have mentally centered magic, doesn’t that mean I can do anything? Like, manifestation, you know?” I say. “And so, I basically went to Mario and healed him. Oh, bit of context, I passed out and my chest worm broke his nose before I healed him.”

“So. . .” Bryce stops chewing his nail. “What you’re saying is you can literally do *anything*?”

Bryce is very talkative today. Good.

“If I have the will, yes,” I say. “Purely because I want to. Magic or no, I will heal you.”

“Well, you’d better start.”

This voice causes me to jump so hard; I see the cosmos for a second.

I put my hand over my heart. “Mario, you scared the living shit out of me.”

He puts a bowl on the side table. “Good.”

I give him a flat look, then turn to Bryce. “Lay down.”

He obliges.

Erin drops my hand and I place it above Bryce. “Where are you hurt?”

“Both my legs are still broken,” Bryce says.

I grimace. “Well, I’m going to try now. Stay still.”

It starts out good. I envision Bryce walking around, legs perfectly well. The dust shimmers and he stretches his legs. Stands. Walks around.

“They’re, like, brand new,” Bryce says, sounding amazed.

Then the poisoning hits. Like a fucking truck.

I stagger to my knees and begin to dry heave. It’s quite violent, despite nothing coming out. My entire body convulses.

That’s when a small something comes out of my mouth and I stop retching.

Erin’s kneeling next to me, hand on my back. “You’re alright.”

“Water,” I croak. “Please.”

Mario hands me one and I wash my mouth out, then drink half the bottle.

Yep, I’m wiped to hell and back.

“Um. . .”

I look up to see Bryce. He’s pointing at something on the floor.

“What is that?”

Ah. The small something—

“Hold on, is that a worm?!” I ask.

“Magno, no. Don’t pick it. . .” Erin trails off as I pick it up. “Never mind.”

Upon closer inspection, I discover it has legs (a lot of legs) and a small round hole with teeth for a mouth.

I shiver when it moves. “This fucker is creepy.”

Erin frowns. “Where did it come from?”

“Me,” I say automatically.

Erin looks at me and points to the worm in my hands. “You mean you puked that up? When the fuck did you eat a worm?!”

“I didn’t. This is. . .” I trail off, trying to figure out what the hell it is.

Mario sits cross-legged next to me. “It’s part of you. That right there is a very small fragment of the magical entity residing within your body.”

I frown. Magical entity?

Then I get it. “Ohhh, you mean my chest worm.”

“Whatever you want to call it.”

I gasp. “Does that mean this guy is my new pet?”

Erin shakes his head. “No, please—”

“Of course,” Mario says. “You’re now responsible for it.”

“I have a tank,” Bryce says. “I could bring it over.”

I nod. “That would be great.”

And that concludes me healing Bryce.

Some really important things for you to know:

One, I’m basically a God.

Two, I’m in love with Erin and I think he feels the same.

Three, I now have a pet worm that was previously attached to my chest worm.

Also, we’re back at Base Three after another long car ride.

Yarrow went to bed, Hera and Aurora are in Hera’s room (wink wink), and Lenin has been waiting incredibly impatiently for us.

As soon as Erin carries me through the door, he’s on me.

He inspects my face. There’re irritation and exasperation in his voice when he says, “My room.”

Erin carries me there and sets me in the bed. Lenin goes to the bathroom, probably searching for death in a bottle.

“I’m sad my legs are out of order,” I say.

Erin laughs. “Yeah. It kind of sucks.”

“Erin. I. . .wanted to talk to you.”

He lays next to me. “’Bout what?”

I really hate the way my ears heat up. “I mean, I know we kissed and whatever. But I was just curious what that meant, you know?”

Erin sighs. Not an angry or exasperated one, but a pleasant one. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

I curl toward him and pick at his sleeve. “It’s okay with you that. . .”

“That?”

“I still care for Jude,” I blurt. “I still love him, but I love you, too.”

Erin turns on his side and brushes my hair from my face. “Magno, I love you. Have since fucking middle school. If you think you need more time, take it. I can wait.”

I grab his hand. “Be honest with me. Is Jude the enemy? Is he the one I have to end for things to fix themselves?”

“. . .I can’t say. Honestly, I don’t even know that there is *one* enemy,” Erin says. “But my personal opinion is that Jude isn’t after you as a person. He’s after the power that resides in you.”

Somehow, that hurts me more than if he’d just said ‘yes you have to kill Jude’.

And of course, it makes sense. He doesn’t even try to contact me to say sorry or anything for almost a *fucking year*, then he shows up randomly at a party and tries to kiss me.

But that’s not exactly a verified fact. Maybe he just didn’t know where to find me. Maybe he’s a good person and really did love me. I like this version much more.

“Ahem! Erin, out of the bed.”

We both jump and flush the color of a ripe tomato.

Erin climbs away from me and waves awkwardly. It’s so cute. “See you in a bit.”

I smile. “Yeah.”

“Okay, lovebirds. Erin, out.” Lenin shoves him out of the room and turns to me. Holds up a bottle. One I’d recognize anywhere.

I bite back a groan, because I know what he’d do. “Bring it here.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to fight me?”

I sigh. “You’d just get Hera.”

He hands me the bottle and I chug it. It still tastes like corpses smell, but I manage.

“So, how often do you seduce boys?” Lenin asks.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. “I didn’t seduce him.”

“Right. So did he seduce you?”

“Nobody seduced anybody!” I say. “He confessed to me. That’s how it went.”

Lenin hums. “I see. So, you seduced him.”

I groan again and hear Lenin chuckle.

“This is schadenfreude.”

“Yes, it is,” Lenin says. Then leaves.

I yell a few cuss words in German after him.

He responds with his own, but they’re faint.

Between confessions, magic poisoning, and interacting with Lenin, I’m wiped out.

Sleep does not indeed evade me. In fact, it embraces me wholeheartedly.

And when I wake, my chest worm is restless.