I’m blacklisted.

Condemned.

Barred from entering the one and only place that can help me fix this mess that I’m in.

Even after I try to fake it, forcing myself to replay the images in the order I remember them, it won’t budge. The Great Halls of Learning will not be fooled by the lowly likes of me.

I sink onto the steps and drop my head in my hands, hardly believing what I’ve become, just how low I’ve sunk. Wondering if this is what rock bottom feels like, surely being a Summerland reject is as bad as it gets.

“Scuse me!”

I scoot to the side and pull my legs in, wondering why Ms. Bossy Boots can’t just move around me. I mean, seriously, I may be five eight, but it’s not like I’m taking up all that much space.

My face still hidden by the palms of my hands, not wanting to be seen by some superior Summerland interloper who has access to all the greatest buildings, when:

“Wait—Ever?”

I freeze. I know that voice. Know it all too well.

“Ever—is that really you?”

I lift my head slowly, reluctant to meet Ava’s gaze. The mere sight of her thick auburn hair and large brown eyes stirring something—something on the periphery that I can’t quite grasp—can’t quite make sense of. But it’s not like it matters, because the truth is, she’s pretty much the last person I wanted to see today, or any other day for that matter. But still, why here, why now, haven’t I been punished enough?

“Trying to con your way in?” I ask, voice dripping with sarcasm as I harshly look her over. Realizing just after it’s out that that’s pretty much what I was just trying to do a few moments earlier, and horrified to realize that I’ve sunk so low I’m now equal with her.

She kneels down beside me, head tilted, regarding me closely when she says, “Are you okay?” Her gaze moving over me carefully, intently, almost as though she really does care.

But I know better. Ava only cares for one person—and that’s Ava. As far as she’s concerned, no one else is worth the bother. She proved that when she left Damen to die just after promising me she’d help him.

I look her over, surprised to see how she doesn’t look so different than she did before she ran off with the elixir, but then again, she was starting from a pretty good place, so maybe she didn’t require all that big a change.

“Am I okay?” I mimic, nailing her sugary-sweet, oh-so-concerned tone. Smirking when I add, “Well, I suppose I am. I suppose I’m just really and truly okay. All things considered anyway. Though I’m sure I’m not near as okay as you.” I shrug. “But then again, who is?”

My eyes travel to her neck, in search of a telltale Ouroboros tattoo or some other sign of her new status as an immortal rogue. Surprised to see that not only is she free of all markings but also that her usual tangle of flashy, manifested jewelry has been pared down to a single, raw citrine hanging from a simple silver chain. Squinting as I struggle to recall what I’ve learned about that particular stone—something about it promoting abundance and joy and—oh yes, protecting all seven chakras—well, no wonder she’s wearing it.

I press my lips together and heave an audible sigh, shooting her a look that leaves no room for doubt about just how I feel about her. “I mean, now that you’ve got the whole world at your feet—no one’s doing better than you, right? So tell me, Ava, how does it feel? How does it feel to be the new, improved you? Was it worth betraying your friends for?”

She looks at me, eyes pulled down at the corners, concern clouding her face. “You’ve got it all wrong,” she says. “It’s not at all what you think!”

I rise to my feet, feeling shaky, off, but doing my best to hide it from her. Determined to leave her behind, unwilling to hear any more lies.

“I didn’t take the elixir, Ever—I—”

I turn, eyes flashing with anger when I say, “You’re unbelievable! Of course you took the elixir! Hel-lo, I came back. See?” I tug on my T-shirt and shake my head. “As it turns out, Ava, nothing went as we’d planned. No—correction, it may not have gone as I planned, but it certainly went as you planned. You left Damen alone, weak and defenseless, just as you’d planned all along. You left him just lying there, vulnerable, dying, right where Roman could get to him. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you paired up again that night with Haven, brewed a nice cup of belladonna tea for her to drink.” I shake my head, wondering why I’m even bothering with this, bothering with her. She’s taken enough from me already. I shouldn’t give her any more.

I head down the stairs, legs heavy, leaden, as though they’re reluctant to cooperate with the signals my brain clearly sends.

Struggling to place one foot before the other when she says, “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I wish you’d give me a chance to explain.”

But I just shrug it off and continue on my way, calling over my shoulder when I say, “Yeah, well, you can’t always get what you want—you remember that song, right?”

She stands behind me, so quiet and still I can’t help but glance over my shoulder to see what she’s up to. My muscles tensed and poised just in case she’s planning to attack, and surprised to find her with palms pressed together, bowing before me as her lips move in a whispered “Namaste.”

Pausing briefly before turning toward the building, leaving me gaping, speechless, as those grand, imposing doors open before her and welcome her in.