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do the same.
    But where are the marks ? Tobin’s skin is clean.
    Where’s the sensitivity to light? The arbor’s full of sunlamps. Tobin works on the perimeter with the high beams every day—no Fade could stand that.
    And his father would have noticed. Wouldn’t he?
    Turning Tobin in would bring suspicion to our whole class, and at least half the upper-years. Anne-Marie and her brother Trey, Silver and Dante—they all put themselves at risk. I can’t tell them they might have been wrong. And I can’t lose another life. The Arclight’s all I have left.
    If something happens to Tobin, it’s my fault. I brought the Fade. I begged Rue to heal him.
    “Were his eyes really shining?” I ask, but Cherish only answers with a reminder that Tobin left the Arclight for me. She nudges me to do the same for him. Rue’s in the Dark, and he’ll answer my questions.
    She’s baiting me, not helping. Her strength is in the Dark.
    What I need is a cooperative Fade who’s willing to come here. One who might understand what’s going on, but who also knows why I can’t mention it to anyone else.
    I need Honoria’s baby brother.
    Schuyler Whit turned Fade in the first days, more than a century ago, and has lived as one ever since. I named him Bolt, for his appearance, with its sharp, slashing lines, and a presence that invokes the violent nature of a thunderstorm. I’ve watched people approach other Fade with curiosity when they venture out of the Grey toward the darkened sections of the Arc, but few bother with him. He looks menacing, but he isn’t, and his connection to Honoria makes him taboo. It’s a shame, considering he has a knack for defusing people’s tempers.
    My panicked heart begins to calm. Bolt comes at least three times a week. Once I make it through my promise to Anne-Marie, I’ll find him at the Arc, and everything will be okay.
    “Yay!” Anne-Marie cheers when I enter the midyear classroom she’s been assigned for the night. “One of you showed up, at least.”
    It was no surprise when she declared her intention to follow a teacher’s path the moment we were allowed to choose. Anne-Marie and her brother are a perfect split of their father’s personality. Trey got Mr. Pace’s desire for a security position, and she got the teaching bug.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Dante?” she asks.
    I’m still getting used to how different she looks with her hair cut so short that it barely rises above her scalp. It seems an odd choice of celebration, but she said the change was for her birthday.
    I should figure out if I have one of those.
    “Silver’s gone missing, and you know if they’re together—”
    “No details in the kiddie classroom.” She holds up a hand to cut me off. She’d probably cover her ears if her other hand wasn’t balancing an oversize tub on her hip. “Actually, no details on those two, period. Neither of them understands the concept of oversharing. Or locks.”
    Poor Anne-Marie swears she didn’t sleep for days after walking in on the two of them in a closet; something about Dante having a really big, really weird birthmark.
    There’s a bluish aura around her, glowing brighter and bolder with her increased agitation. It’s the way Cherish sees people who have touched the Fade but who aren’t part of the hive. I’ve seen Anne-Marie’s since I got my memories back, but it’s especially vibrant today.
    “Besides,” she says. “I doubt Silver’s with him, unless he’s finally convinced her to go out on the short side with him. Every day, he skips out on rotation early and makes himself go a little farther into the Grey. You’d think he was hunting for buried treasure out there.”
    That’s a conversation I have no intention of continuing. One person having dark dreams is enough; I don’t want to think about it spreading. Thankfully, it’s only a passing comment, and Anne-Marie moves on.
    “Could you get the chairs out of the way while I set out the cups and