Page 79 of Flickerstate

Silence fills the room.

A minute later, Dr. Langmore clears her throat. “Ms. Delgado is victorious. Team Three has won the competition.”

Bree lost.

We lost.

Dad.

Dad.

Chapter Nineteen

My head’s too heavy. I can’t raise it from my knees. I wish I could erase my mind, forget my whole life.

I’ve failed Dad. I’ve failed myself.

We’re going to die.

“Congratulations, Ms. Delgado,” Dr. Langmore says. “Your brother will be proud.”

“I’m sure,” Mirabel says.

Fingers brush my shoulder. “Norah?” Bree asks. “Are you okay?”

Her timid voice scorches me with rage, melting the lead that weighs down my body. I shake her off and stumble for the nearest door.

Outside, a cold breeze sighs along the Academy’s stone hulks, chilling the sweat on my skin. Students walk across the quad in light sweaters and ornamental scarves under a turquoise sky. They chatter and laugh, their weekends just starting. They look like time travelers from the distant past, before everything changed. Or fromthe future, when no one at the Academy will remember a girl named Norah Sullivan went here, let alone what happened to her.

I’m about to bolt toward the forest and silence when someone grabs my wounded arm below the bite. I hiss and spin.

It’s Bree, face pink and trembly. “I know how much you wanted to win.”

More rage, impossibly hot. I’m shivering, but I feel as if my skin may combust, crackling like it did in flickerstate. She knows how much I wanted to win? She has no idea.

(You didn’t tell her, a voice in my head whispers. I ignore it.)

If I look at her wet blue eyes any longer, I’ll scratch them out. I stare over her shoulder. Candace exits the nav building, pauses between the two lions guarding the door, and walks toward us with a frown. She stops behind Bree, protectively close.

Vik, Griffin, and Mirabel come through the same door. They don’t look like winners. Vik’s face is a dead vacancy. Griffin has folded his arms tightly across his stomach. There’s a hard glaze to Mirabel’s stare, like she’ll snap at the next person who dares congratulate her. The three of them exchange confused looks when they see me and Bree faced off.

Bree seems to take heart from our audience. “We did really well though,” she says loudly. “No one expected senior transfers to get to the finals.”

“True,” Mirabel murmurs.

Candace turns and glares, more furious than I’ve ever seen her.

Mirabel blanches. “I didn’t mean—sorry.”

“We’re guaranteed A’s.” Bree smiles at me, pressuring me tosmile back. “We can coast through the rest of the semester.”

I know what she wants: for me to calm down, stop visibly freaking out, and agree that yes, we did pretty well, and isn’t that great. But if I open my mouth right now, agreement won’t come out. Grief and rage and panic will. I shake my head and turn away.

Bree steps after me. “Norah, wait.”

“I need to be alone,” I choke out. “Please.”

“Tell me you’re okay.” Her voice rises anxiously.