I couldn’t believe I had to go to bio class the next morning. The longer I spent with Toby in my dorm room, the crazier the outside world started to feel.

Who cared about prokaryotic cell structures when there was a hot vampire boy stuck in my dorm room?

I looked at Lianna, sitting next to me, absorbed in her notes, then looked at my own notes. I’d probably be better at bio if I took notes like Lianna, I thought, but she was taking notes like her life depended on it.

I looked around at the rest of the class. Everyone was laser focused on what Asha--Professor Benton, when I was in class--was writing on the board. Everyone else cared so much.

What did I care about?

When had I gotten to be so angsty all the time?

I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I had to get supplies for the ritual Nico had described. We were going to go out into the field behind the football stadium--the largest, clearest area--just before midnight, so that we had plenty of moonlight.

I wished I’d written down Nico’s instructions. It was an odd kind of ritual--ancient rituals usually were, as I understood it--but he made it sound like the timing was particularly important.

I hoped I wasn’t missing anything.

I glanced at Lianna’s notes on the desk next to me. My bio notes were definitely missing something.

“Paige?”

“Huh?”

Asha--Professor Benton--was looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“The difference between prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells?” she prompted.

“Uh--” I looked down at my notes, trying to find the answer. I heard my boss/professor sigh.

“Lianna?” she prompted.

“There are four primary differences,” Lianna said immediately. Of course she was prepared.

I shoved my books into my bag the minute class was over, but I wasn’t fast enough.

“How are you feeling?” Corey, the sophomore from Daybreakers club, was taking bio 101 for his minor. He loomed over my table, awkwardly close.

“I’m good,” I said, before I remembered-- “still a little sniffly.” I sniffed, to back up my claim. Corey nodded curtly.

“See you in club next week,” he said. He turned as if to go, then turned back suddenly--blocking my path to get up. “If you want to bring your friend again,” he said, then broke off and almost ran away from my desk.

“What was that about?” Lianna asked. She’d been watching the whole exchange, and gave me a look that made it clear she thought Corey was a weirdo.

I tried to brush it off.

“He’s just into my roommate,” I said. Lianna caught up with me as I tried to duck out of class.

“I didn’t know you weren’t feeling well,” she said, keeping pace with me down the hallway.

“I’m fine,” I said. I shouldn’t have lied to begin with, but now I couldn’t stop. “I mean, I just had a little cold.”

“Take care of yourself, yeah? I need my study buddy in the van.” She elbowed me, friendly.

“You don’t need any help from me,” I said, and she laughed.

“Oh, come on. Asha was just picking on you because you were spacing out. You’re going to apply to nursing schools, right? You’ll need her as a reference.”

“I was thinking about it,” I said. But after a few weeks in the van, I knew that anything with a vomit risk was off the table--I could feel that this wasn’t going to be my thing.

Lianna looked at me like she was reading my mind.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “It’s your first semester. Everyone’s exhausted. Don’t give up on your dream just because you missed some sleep.” She waved. “I’ve got chem lab. See ya!”

She peeled off down the hallway as I headed for the stairs.

“I don’t have a dream,” I said quietly.

“Do you want a nightmare?” Asha’s voice came from behind me, and I jumped halfway out of my skin.

“Asha. Professor Benton. I’m so sorry,” I said, spinning to face her. Asha was looking down at me with her usual wry grin--half amused, half stern. I wasn’t sure if that was always how her face looked, or just how she always looked at me. “I haven’t been feeling great--”

“You’ll get used to it,” she said. “Freshmen have a lot on their plates. But I’ll give you a hint. If you take good notes in class, you won’t have nightmares about our quiz on Monday.”

“Monday,” I echoed. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“And if I hear you feeling sorry for yourself again, I’ll put you on double shifts.” She started walking away down the hall, then called over her shoulder: “Then you won’t have time for your pity party.”

I stared after her in awe. That woman was ice cold. And she was right.

I already didn’t have time to feel bad for myself. I needed to get candles and incense for the ritual that night.

I had to pull myself together. I had been bouncing from one place to the next, hoping someone would give us an answer. It was time to make our own answers.