I sat in those bushes for what seemed forever until Mel finally came and got me. We were halfway home before I remembered the guy who'd been watching me, who'd seen me in the greenhouse window and seemed to be staring into my soul. But by then, it was too late to try to figure out who he was, and I was too embarrassed about the whole thing to ask Mel if she might know him. Jason had left without us, taken the car and left us to find our own way home, and I was fine with that. I could only imagine how awkward it would feel to be in the car with him and his sister, knowing what he'd just told me about his mother. What was I supposed to do with that information, anyway?

But truthfully, my heart was still racing when we reached the Hineses' house. I could think of only one explanation for the flowers: Henry.

Sure, I was making some assumptions. First, I assumed the message was for me (although I thought that was a pretty safe assumption, as who would send flowers to Jason?). Second, I assumed that they meant what I figured the flowers were called--someone didn't want me to forget. Last, I assumed that the only person who wouldn't want me to forget about him was Henry. So I was working on a lot of guesses, but they felt right, to me. Maybe it was mostly wishful thinking, but it seemed the most logical answer. And if it were Henry who'd sent me the message, then what I'd hoped for for months was right: he was definitely alive, and he still needed my help.

Of course, some dried flowers didn't give me much to go on. If he did need me, I had no inkling of how to begin finding him, let alone helping him. But it still meant the world (or, at least, my world)--he still relied on me.

I was quiet on the ride, choosing not to tell Mel. We didn't talk much about Henry. She and her sister Ella had always been beyond kind about accepting my past and about listening to me the few times I had something to say, but they didn't probe, and as the days passed, I felt less like talking about it. In fact, Mel's mention of Old Lisa had shaken me not just because of what had happened to him but also because I had almost begun to think everything had been some strange, surreal nightmare (all except the parts with Henry), and his murder had reminded me of how real it all was. The Circuit was still out there, and it might not be done with me. Part of me said that was just fine, because as long as they had Henry, I wasn't done with them, either.

The fallout after my and Jason's escape from Oliphant had changed the Circuit's plans entirely; according to the people that had helped me, they'd abandoned their base in San Judo, cleared out and filled the tunnels with cement. I wasn't sure how they'd done it, and I didn't know whether whoever was investigating them knew how they'd done it, but I had been kept pretty much in the dark about any ongoing probe into the Circuit. In the beginning, I'd been asked lots of questions, but I'd been unable to answer most of them, and it seemed that at this point I'd been forgotten. All summer, I'd had no contact with anyone--not Old Lisa, not Miss Pinsky-Waters, not Detective Arnold, not anybody.

I had hoped the Circuit would forget about me as much as everyone else had seemed to; I'd hoped they'd abandoned whatever loose ends remained in San Judo, but Old Lisa's murder implied they hadn't. What Jason had told me was entirely true: I couldn't rely on his family for my safety.

The few days before school began passed quickly and uneventfully; nevertheless, a growing dread settled in my gut. I couldn't focus on school; in fact, it was beginning to sound like a nefarious organization, a place for someone to put young people so they couldn't get into trouble on their own, and I'd been in enough of those already. And I was becoming increasingly concerned that I wouldn't be with the Hineses forever, so my motivation to do well there was pretty much zero.

However, as I had no other plan, and as I really did care about Mel's friendship, I figured it best to go along with it all and just bide my time there. If nothing else, it was a decent cover--high school.

Day one arrived, and we donned our uniforms and drove to the giant building, which I was sure I'd get lost in at least five or six times throughout the day. Jason found someone he knew as we were getting out of the car and left to go talk with that person, although not without wishing me luck. Mel and I had walked through the building during registration, and she'd been kind enough to map out my routes for me, but the whole thing was still intimidating. I approached the behemoth with my stomach in knots.

We made it to our lockers, and we hung out for a few minutes there, but Mel sensed that I didn't really want to be around her friends, so she kindly excused us and headed toward my first class with me.

"You have Mr. Allen first hour. Lucky. I could use a fun class to help me wake up first thing in the morning."

"Why? Who've you got?"

She linked arms with me. "Kirkpatrick. Health. Blech. Like I want to hear about drugs and STD's from that old hag.You know she has no firsthand knowledge of any of what she talks about. "

"Mel!"

"I'm serious! But everyone has to take health at some point. Maybe it's best to have it first hour, though, so the rest of the day can only get better from there!"

I laughed. No wonder she had a lot of friends. Everything I knew about Mel was that her heart was big and her mouth ran a mile-a-minute. She meant well, and she was a lot of fun. For a fleeting moment, I envied her, mostly her ability to be carefree. But before I could think too much about that, we'd arrived at my first class.

"You met Mr. Allen before, remember? He's super nice. Do you like math?"

I thought for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe." I'd done some math at Oliphant, but I'd not really been invested in actually learning it, and I truthfully couldn't tell how advanced any of it was. It had seemed mostly like algebra. I didn't feel connected to any particular subject, though I definitely could read, write, and multiply as well as anyone else. So I must have had formal schooling at some point in my life.

"Well, you'll like Coach Allen. He's everybody's favorite teacher. You're lucky to have gotten him."

I tried my best to smile at her, not really feeling lucky at the moment, and then I convinced her to go off and find her own class, spend time with her other friends. She didn't want to leave me, which I appreciated, but I wanted to be alone. After she'd gone, I debated entering the classroom or standing outside it. Neither option entirely appealed to me, but sitting outside ended up being my choice, as going into the room would mean having to sit in there with Mr. Allen until the bell rang, and whether or not he was a nice person, I just didn't want to force conversation with anyone.

Nobody bothered me for the moments I stood outside that door. Everybody was occupied with themselves, which was fine by me. I watched people just walk around confidently, identify and call out to old friends, giggle over personal jokes, eye one another to stake out new or old crushes. I was disconnected from it all, outside something the rest were inside of, but that distance allowed me to look around at all the students without feeling self-conscious, and I had a particular motivation in people-watching: I wanted to find that guy that had been staring at me at the pool party. It had been a few days since that party, but his image had impressed itself onto my brain; I couldn't get it out of my mind. I had no notion of what I'd do if I did see him. I definitely didn't think I'd talk to him, but I would have felt relieved in a way to see him again, just to know I hadn't been crazy.

"Amirah, right?"

I spun around and found myself practically face-to-face with the short white man I knew as Mr. Allen. I wasn't particularly tall--just average, I'd say--but he was close to my height, which meant I was looking into his eyes when I turned. I could only stare at him.

"Come on in, won't you?"

Reluctantly, I followed him into his classroom. I hadn't been sure if I'd wanted to be in that room or out of it until the bell rang, but now that I didn't have much choice, I distinctly felt that I'd rather be in the hall.

"Have a seat!"

He was too cheerful for an early-morning class. But I understood why Mel liked him. He was all smiles, very friendly. There was nothing to dislike about him, and yet I was nervous.

"We still have about ten minutes before the bell," he chirruped, taking a seat in the desk across from the one I'd chosen. Nobody else was in the room, which was decorated with all kinds of colorful posters covered in punny math-related slogans. "I'm so glad you came by a little early. I've been wanting to talk with you."

I eyed him curiously. Really? "About what?"

He scratched his goatee-coated chin, thought behind his round, hip spectacles. "Well, I . . ." he hesitated, looking around the room. "I know this transition has to be . . . difficult for you. I want you to know that any help you might need--I can find it."

The gleam in his eyes was a little too familiar . . . what did he know, if anything? Was he trying to imply something? I didn't know exactly what it might be, if he were. "I'm sorry, Mr. Allen," I replied as casually as I could muster. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Oh, well, you know. Being in a new school . . ."

If that was all he meant, no need to worry.

". . . considering where you've been."

Did he know about Oliphant? About . . . after? My eyes scanned the room lazily as I tried to appear indifferent to him. Nobody here was supposed to know about me, as far as I'd been told. Mrs. Hines had made it clear that this would be a clean slate for me. None of the students or teachers knew my past. They might have wondered why I was staying with the Hineses, but they hadn't been told. Or, at least, that's what I'd been told.

"Mr. Allen, I'm just happy to be here at Saint James."

He gave me a tight smile, nodded curtly. "Of course you are. Of course. Well," he rose from the chair and headed over to his own desk, "I'm here if you need me. I'd like us to be friends, Amirah. I'd like you to know I'm here to help."

I could play this off. "Good, because I think I definitely do need some help with math."

That got him away from the subject. He looked up at me excitedly. "Actually, not really! Your placement tests were awesome! You aced them!"

"Really?"

"Yes! In fact, I was surprised you were placed in this math class. I was sure you should be in calculus. I was about to put up a fight for you, until--well, I'm not surprised now. I'm pleased. Just pleased. You'll do great in this class, I'm sure of it. Where have you learned all the math you know already?"

I was relieved. If he were asking me that, he couldn't have known about me. He at least couldn't know that I had too little information about my past to answer him. Smiling, I truthfully stated, "It just comes easily to me, I guess."

He said something about being impressed, and then, thankfully, another few students entered the classroom. Three guys--they seemed to know Mr. Allen, called him "Coach." They began a cheerful conversation with him about running and schedules and other things, and I was able to tune them out and just sit mired in my thoughts for a few moments before the bell rang.

The class itself passed uneventfully. So did my other five classes. They were all your typical high school classes, and most teachers just talked about themselves and their rules and routines on that first day. Nothing out-of-place occurred. In a way, that was nice. I seemed to blend in--or at least nobody appeared to notice my presence or make me feel awkward--and there was something interesting about watching everyone around me, how they interacted with one another. There seemed to be deception all over the place, and I felt I had an ability to perceive a lot of it: the way girls acted interested in what others were saying, the way students interacted with teachers, the way people pretended they were paying attention. I could see through all of it, and it made me feel even more justified in thinking this place was just another Oliphant. Put a whole lot of people in one building, force them through routine, make them spend time with each other, and they'll put on the masks.

Lunch was fine, too. I easily found Mel--or, I should say, she found me. Yelled at me across a hall of other students, paying no attention to how they looked at her. And I sat there at a table and ate some food, vaguely listening to Mel chatter with her friends as they all sat and pushed and swiped on their phones, pausing every few seconds to get in a bite. The whole while, I scanned that cafeteria, my eyes washing over everyone, trying to find that one boy who'd been staring at me at the pool party, but I never found him. Not at lunch, not in any of my classes, not wandering the halls--nowhere. There were tons of students, so it was definitely possible I'd just missed him. Our paths weren't crossing. And I didn't even know whether I wanted to see him or not. If I did, what would I do? Hide? Try to ask him why he'd been staring at me? And then I wondered, too, if maybe I was wrong--maybe he'd been looking at some particularly interesting plant in the greenhouse and not at me at all.

Whatever. It didn't matter, because I didn't see him, and perhaps that was for the best.

Home again. At least, back to the Hineses' house. It was still hot enough to be in the pool, so I changed into my suit and got in. Just floated on one of those big rafts. They had one that looked like a giant waffle, and I liked that one best. There was something just beautiful--as beautiful as I'd known--about lying there on a pool float, the sun warming me, the gentle water moving me in slow circles, my eyes closed to the world around me, nothing but the occasional bird chirp or bee buzz infringing on the quiet. Most times, I could fall half into sleep that way, a sleep that was dreamless and gave me no cause for concern. Everything melted away. I didn't think about anyone or anything. I was free from the prison of my mind just for a few moments. Golden all around. Toasty inside. Nothing on my mind . . . but the sun. Stars and their warmth. Something about the stars, the sun made me feel safe. I could've stayed on that raft forever.

Mel called my name, breaking me from my reverie. My eyes popped open. I slid off my waffle raft and into the icy-cool water. It felt amazing, but I didn't linger in it. I surfaced, wiped my eyes, looked for Mel and saw her coming out the back door.

"What is it? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, come here." She was carrying some sort of drinks. When she reached the edge of the pool, she sat and stuck her legs in the water. "This one's for you. I'd have put some of mom's vodka in it, but I know you don't like alcohol. Just don't blame me if I do!"

I waded over to her, pushing the waffle raft in front of me. "Thanks." The drink was super fruity, but I drank it gratefully.

"What'd you think of Coach?"

"Coach? Oh, the math teacher? He's nice, I guess. Seemed kind of small."

"Want to know how old he is?" Mel winked, and I gagged inside, knowing what she was thinking.

"No! I don't care about that."

"You wouldn't be the first girl to have a crush on him. Practically everybody does. But he's older than he looks. He's been there since Ella was there."

"That isn't that long." Ella was only just in college.

"Yeah, but it's been longer than that. I remember he coached the younger kids' soccer for a while, too; he was Jason's coach for a long time, since he was in elementary school. So I'm thinking he's at least in his thirties."

"Ok. So he's been here pretty much forever."

She frowned. "I don't know, actually. I mean, it's not like I kept that close of tabs on him. I just remember him being around when we were kids, and then he's been teaching at the high school for at least seven or eight years. So you know. I guess he could've skipped out a few years in the middle or something." Mel pushed her blond hair out of her face and got up to sit on a pool chair with an umbrella over it. "It's hot as hell out here."

"You should come in! It feels awesome." I held onto the raft as it bumped against the wall and fanned my legs out behind me, reveling in the coolness of the water.

Mel didn't say anything at first, just laid back, stared up at the sky for a moment. "So, was it all right?"

"What?"

"The school?"

We hadn't talked much in the car. Of course she wanted to know what I thought about St. James. "It's . . . fine."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not entirely lying. It was fine. Nothing really happened, you know? It was exactly . . . what I expected, to be honest."

"It's the best school in the Grove. In San Judo."

"I believe you," I replied. I knew she wanted to defend her school, and I could tell it was definitely an expensive school, if that was what made it the best. "I think it's amazing. I mean, it's beautiful, and the teachers seem to be very good, and everyone was nice. I have nothing bad to say."

"Except that it was just fine."

I sighed. "Mel, what do you want me to say? It was my first day."

"You're right. I shouldn't pressure you. I'm sorry."

I grinned. "No need. I'm lucky to be here."

Mel gave me a strange smile in response, one that didn't really match the blank expression in her eyes. If it meant something, I didn't know what it could be.