Maybe we could feel normal again. Our version of normal, at least. Even if the clock was still ticking and the Eighteenth Moon was getting closer.

We can do more than feel normal, Ethan. We can be normal.

Lena smiled at me, and I pulled her even closer as we walked into the gym.

The inside of the gym had been transformed, and the theme seemed to be—Link. The Holy Rollers were onstage, lit by spotlights the Dance Committee could never afford to rent. And Link was in the center of it all, his ruffled shirt unbuttoned and drenched with sweat. He was alternating between playing the drums and singing, sliding along the stage with the mic stand in his hand. Every time he moved near the edge, a group of freshmen girls screamed.

And for the second time in my life, the Holy Rollers sounded like a real band—without a cherry lollipop in sight.

“What did you do?” I shouted to Lena over the music.

“Consider it a Don’t-Let-the-Dance-Suck Cast.”

“So, I guess the whole thing was Link’s idea in the first place.” I smiled, and she nodded at me.

“Exactly.”

On the way to the dance floor, we walked past a cardboard backdrop. There was a stool, but the photographer was nowhere in sight. The whole thing looked a little suspicious. “Where’s the photographer, L?”

“His wife went into labor.” Lena wouldn’t look at me.

“Lena.”

“Really. You can ask anyone. Well, don’t ask her. She’s a little busy right now.”

We passed Liv and John, who were sitting at a table near the dance floor. “I’ve only seen this on TV,” Liv said, taking it all in.

“An American high school dance?” John smiled. “It’s my first, too.” John reached out to tug on a length of her blond hair. “Let’s dance, Olivia.”

An hour later, I had to admit Lena was right. We were all having a good time, and it didn’t feel like summer anymore. It felt like a regular high school dance, where you wait for the slow songs to get close to your girlfriend. Savannah was holding court in her puffy cotton candy dress, and she even danced with Earl Petty—once. The only exception was the return of Link as a rock god. But tonight even that didn’t seem so impossible.

Fatty was busting the rest of the Holy Rollers for smoking in front of the gym while the Dance Committee’s pre-approved playlist blasted through the speakers. But there wasn’t much Fatty could do, since they were all around twenty-five and confirmed dirtbags. That was obvious when the lead guitarist whispered something in Emily Asher’s ear that actually left her speechless for the first time in her life.

I went to find Link, who was hanging out in the hallway by the lockers. The hallway was dark, except for one blinking fluorescent panel on the ceiling, which made it a good place to hide from Savannah. I figured I’d tell him how great he was onstage, because there was nothing you could say to Link that would make him happier than that. But I didn’t get to tell him.

He was wiping the sweat off his face when I saw her turn the corner.

Ridley.

So much for Link being happy.

I ducked into the doorway of the bio lab before they saw me. Maybe Ridley was going to tell him where she’d been all this time. She would definitely lie to Lena and me when we asked her.

“Hey there, Hot Rod.” She was sucking on a cherry lollipop, wearing lots of black and showing lots of skin. Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Link threw his sweaty shirt onto the floor.

“Around.”

“Everyone’s been worried about you. Even after the stunt you pulled.” Everyone meaning him.

Ridley laughed. “Yeah, I bet.”

“So, where—” For a second, he didn’t say anything. “Why are you wearin’ sunglasses, Rid?”

I pushed myself flatter against the wall and looked around the corner. Ridley was wearing black sunglasses, the kind she used to wear all the time.

“Take them off.” He was almost shouting. If the music wasn’t so loud, someone would’ve heard him.

Ridley leaned up against the locker next to Link. “Don’t be mad, Shrinky Dink. I was never cut out to be a Mortal. We both knew that.”

Link pulled her sunglasses off, and I could see her yellow eyes from where I was standing. The eyes of a Dark Caster.

“What did you do?” Link sounded defeated.

She shrugged. “You know, I begged forgiveness and all that. I think everyone knew I’d been punished enough. Being a Mortal was torture.”

Link was staring at the linoleum. I knew that look. It was the same one he had whenever his mom started on one of her tirades, threatening moral damnation if he didn’t bring his grades up or stop reading books she was trying to ban. It was the look that said: Nothing I do is going to make any difference.

“Who’s ‘everyone,’ Rid? Sarafine? Abraham?” He was shaking his head. “Did you go to them after everything they did to you? After they tried to kill us? The way you let John Breed outta the Arclight after what he did to me?”

She stepped in front of him, resting her hands on his chest. “I had to let him out. He gave me power.” Her voice was rising, the sarcastic tone gone. “Don’t you understand? It was the only way I could feel like myself again.”

Link grabbed her wrists and pushed her away. “I’m glad you feel like yourself. Guess I never really knew who you were. I’m the idiot.” He started walking back toward the double doors that led into the gym.