Page 16 of Flickerstate

I take the armchair. “Why weren’t there articles? The media loves miracle cures. They give people hope.”

“My stepdad didn’t want the publicity. We had to tell our Nav Department, or they wouldn’t have taken me off the registry. But they de-identified my case before they sent it to the CDC.”

I fidget on the armchair’s overstuffed cushion. Because I hid my wound, I’m not on any registry. I’ve committed some Class E felonies as a result: flying on a commercial aircraft with an undisclosed bite, traveling between states with an undisclosed bite, etc. Any mention of registries makes me feel like a criminal.

Which makes sense. Iama criminal.

“How did Mirabel know about your bites in the first place?” I ask.

“She and Griffin have been friends since they were freshmen, and they dated last year. She’s visited us a couple times. And she and I get on—got on—fine. We could talk. We used to text. Butwhen she came to our house last winter break, she was acting off. I thought she knew Griffin was going to break up with her. Maybe she was terrified of my bites. Turns out Griffin told her before she came.”

“I’m surprised he’d tell her. People treat bites like they’re contagious. He wasn’t worried she’d start avoiding him? Or tell their other classmates, get him ostracized too?”

“Maybe he should’ve been. But Mirabel’s not a coward or a gossip, at least. She didn’t tell anyone about my bites until today.” Candace leans back, light shining on her bob. “Enough about them. Who are you, blockmate? Why did you come to the Academy?”

I shift uncomfortably. “Same reason everyone does. I found out I could navigate.”

“That’s all?”

If anyone could understand my situation, it would be Candace. But I’m not about to spill my deep, dark secret to a girl I met a minute ago. Thinking up a plausible half-truth, I remember Vik’sPhilosophy of Navigation, his frustration that the Academy doesn’t explore the why of it all. “I want to see the Archive. Highwall went so deep into flickerstate. And she buried her research here. I want to know what she learned. Don’t you?”

Candace taps her forearm where two scars overlap, forming a shiny ridge. “I want to understand one thing in particular.”

“You’re gunning for the Archive too.”

“Of course.”

“Can I ask…”

“An indecorous question? Love those. Go.”

“How’d it happen?”

“The bites?”

“No, the healing. Did something trigger it, or—” I make myself stop. I can hear my own tension, neediness, just plain too muchness. If I keep talking, I might as well blab about Dad.

“I was bitten a year ago, right when my nav manifested,” Candace says after a pause. “I started having the dreams this spring. You know about bite-dreams?”

You could say that. Every night last week Dad woke the whole family up with his screaming. “They show you possible deaths, right? They hurt. And they…they mean you’re getting closer to, um…”

Candace nods. “I started bracing for them until I couldn’t sleep. Finally, my mom insisted I take sleeping pills. That night, I went under with wounds, woke up with scars. I have no idea what happened. Why?”

I feel a sharp, disappointed drop in my stomach. The sleeping pills weren’t what cured Candace—over the decades, people with bites have tried every pill under the sun, including sleeping pills, to no effect—but her story doesn’t offer any other leads. “Just curious.”

She raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t buy what I’m selling.

I need to distract her. Luckily, I have an idea. “We should team up.”

“Team up?”

“For the Archive competition. If we both make it through this ‘screening’ I’ve heard about.”

Her face hardens. “I don’t want a pity teammate.”

“Conveniently, I don’t pity you.”

I really don’t. I mean, she’shealed. Just being this close to someone who survived a bite… Maybe I can figure out how she did it.