I remember that he broke into my room last year, so he absolutely can find me down here if he cares to do it.
But I doubt he will.
I lay face down on the bed, guilty and miserable.
I shouldn’t have gone looking for his mother without talking to him first.
I wanted to surprise him. But I knew how emotionally fraught that whole situation is for Dean.
On the other hand . . .
It’s better that I know how he actually feels about me.
He doesn’t love me. He never did.
Why would he?
Dean has always been one of the smartest, the strongest, and the most disciplined people at this school. With all I’ve changed, I’m still barely average.
But god, it felt good to believe that he loved me.
I can’t stop crying.
I’m soaking my pillow like a fucking baby, all tears and snot and embarrassing sobs.
I’m glad Rakel isn’t here.
How did I fuck that up so bad?
I’m stupid, just like Dean said. I think I understand what’s going on around me, and then I don’t, not even a little bit.
I didn’t see what was going on between Rocco and my sister until it was almost too late. I wasn’t able to help Hedeon. I don’t know what the hell is going on with Miss Robin. I’m a shit Spy.
Maybe Lola’s right about everything—if Dean thought I was an idiot all along, maybe Anna and Chay do, too. Maybe Ares does, and Hedeon. Even Rakel might only be tolerating me.
I’m spiraling down a greased slide into a pit of slime.
All my darkest thoughts and worst fears are waiting for me at the bottom.
I’m worthless. No one loves me. No one ever will.
Except Zoe.
The thought comes to me—one tiny beacon of light in the blackness.
I still have my sister.
I could call her right now.
I snatch up my phone, already dialing before I remember there’s no service down here.
Without bothering to grab so much as a sweatshirt, I run out of my room and back up the stairs to ground level. I hurry north to the wall, too impatient to find my usual secluded spot on the far corner of campus. Instead, I wedge myself between the leafless orange trees and call my sister.
The phone rings several times. My stomach clenches up, thinking she’s not going to answer.
Then Zoe’s cheerful voice trills, “There you are! I haven’t talked to you in forever!”
I’m already crying again before I can even say hello. Poor Zoe has to wade through my gulps and sobs to try to figure out what the fuck is going on.
“Are you okay?” she cries. “Did somebody hurt you?”
“No,” I say, miserably. “I just . . . Dean and I broke up.”
“Oh,” Zoe says.
I can tell this isn’t exactly a surprise to her, which only makes me cry harder.
“I’m sorry, conejita,” Zoe says, “but maybe it’s for the best.”
“No it isn’t!” I cry.
“But Cat—”
“You don’t understand,” I sob.
“Then explain it to me,” Zoe says.
She’s such a good sister. She always wants to be on my side.
“I want to understand,” Zoe says. “Tell me how this whole thing happened.”
She doesn’t know what she’s asking. Still, I’m going to tell her. I’m so tired of carrying this secret.
I take a long, shuddering breath.
“I killed Rocco Prince,” I say.
The silence on the other end of the line is deep enough to drown an ocean.
“No,” Zoe whispers.
“I did. And Dean saw me.”
I can almost hear her mind whirring, putting together the pieces with astonishing speed.
She knows it’s the truth. Only her image of her sweet baby sister prevented her from seeing it before.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Zoe murmurs.
“I didn’t want you to worry. I wanted you to be free.”
“I can’t believe it, Cat. How did you—”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
I’m still filled with a sick sense of dread every time I remember waiting on the wall for Rocco Prince to arrive. Knowing that he was stronger than me, faster than me, and maybe smarter, too . . . Knowing that if one of us was about to die, it could just as easily be me . . .
“It worked, and that’s all that matters. No one else knows.”
“Thank god for that,” Zoe breathes.
“Dean promised not to tell. In return for, ah, a few favors.”
“What!” Zoe shrieks, outraged. “Did he—”
“No! I mean, not exactly. It’s complicated.”
Now she’s fuming on the other end of the line, imagining the worst.
“We weren’t friends at first, but then we were, and then it turned into something romantic . . .”