And then she sank down to a crouch against the door, wrapped her arms around herself, and cried like her heart was broken.

Which, in fact, it was.

Morning felt like the end of the world. Claire didn’t remember sleeping, but she supposed she must have a little. Outside her window the sun was shining, and when she pulled the sash up a warming breeze fluttered the white curtains. It was going to be a nice day.

For the end of the world, anyway.

She rolled over in bed and found herself facing a lot of empty space—space that Shane had occupied sometimes, whether they were just lying together talking or watching TV or…doing other things. But no Shane. Not today. That side of the bed was smooth.

Claire rolled back over to face the other side, which was just a view of the blank wall and a dresser. On the dresser was a picture of her and Shane, arms around each other, laughing.

She squeezed her eyes shut. They felt raw and red, swollen from crying, and she knew she looked as miserable as she felt.

Get up, she told herself. You can’t just lie around here all day, feeling sorry for yourself.

But if she got up, she might run into Shane in the hall or downstairs in the kitchen or……

Get up. You live here, too.

She didn’t want to, but the idea of wallowing around in her misery didn’t sound so great, either. She was tired of crying, and her head hurt. She needed something to drink, something to eat, and to tell Eve all about it.

Crawling out from under the covers, Claire realized that she was still wearing the clothes she’d thrown on to follow Myrnin; she hadn’t bothered, in her generally awful mood, to undress. She took a fresh set with her to the bathroom (she noted that Shane’s door was closed as she passed) and showered and dressed and fixed her hair. When she realized that she was actually taking longer than Eve generally did, mainly to avoid any possibility of coming into contact with him, she sucked in a deep breath, dumped the old clothes in the laundry basket, and reached for the bathroom doorknob.

Her cell phone went off, scaring her so badly, she banged her elbow into the sink while reaching into her pants pocket. Ow. That hurt, hurt bad enough to make her take an extra second of deep breaths to stare down at the lit-up screen. She didn’t recognize the number, not even the area code. Probably a wrong number.

She answered, and a voice on the other end, sounding brisk and businesslike, said, “May I speak with Claire Danvers, please?”

“I’m Claire.” She swallowed a bubble of anxiety. Could it be about her dad? No, he was doing better—he’d said so himself. Everything was all right.

Then why was some stranger calling her? Now?

“My name is Mr. Radamon, and I am in charge of the Atomic, Biophysics, Condensed Matter, and Plasma Physics program at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Did you receive our letter?”

Claire went entirely blank. “Your…letter?”

“You applied for admission into our program last year,” Mr. Radamon said. He sounded so…normal. So human. Somehow, she’d expected an MIT honcho to sound more godlike, with thunder rolling in the background. “We replied about six months ago with an acceptance letter to your home address. I just wanted to be sure you got it.”

“Oh. Oh, no, I didn’t. My parents—my parents had to move. My dad is sick.” MIT. MIT was on her phone. She took it away from her ear and started at it in dreamlike disbelief. “You said…I was accepted?”

“Yes,” he said. “We do have an opening. But, of course, we need to confirm that you’ll be able to attend at the beginning of next year. If you can’t, we’ll have to give the opportunity to another applicant. You understand?”

“Of course,” Claire said, and felt a wave of hot excitement roll over her, followed by an ice-cold wave of realization. “You said…next year? As in January?”

“Yes, January,” he said. “I hope that gives you enough time to make your arrangements. I’m sorry to hear your father is ill. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Claire honestly didn’t know what to say, and wasn’t sure she could say anything. She’d been dreaming of this moment for years, thinking about how cool and perfect she was going to sound, how she’d impress them with her adult attitude and control.

All she wanted to do was cry. I can’t. I can’t go. They won’t let me, and this is my chance, my only chance…. MIT had been her dream ever since she’d been able to understand what they did there, what they taught, what they achieved. There, she’d learn things that even Myrnin couldn’t fathom. She’d discover the secrets of the universe.

All she had to do was get the hell out of Morganville. Which she couldn’t do.

“Miss Danvers?” said the voice of the future on the other end of a very long line. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m here.” All the way here. “Mr. Radamon, I’m sorry. I’ll need to get back to you a little later. I need to, uh, talk to my parents before I tell you for sure. Would that be okay?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. I’m sorry to spring this on you without any warning.” He chuckled. “I know how exciting it can be to get this kind of news. I think I yelled my parents’ house down when I got my acceptance letter. Most exciting moment of my life. Well, congratulations, Ms. Danvers. Please call me back when you have all your arrangements in hand. I’ll need to hear from you within the week, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated numbly. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

“No thanks necessary; you were a brilliant candidate, and your scores are extremely impressive. We look forward to having you on the team here.”

She must have said something else, something nice and appreciative, but honestly, Claire couldn’t think of anything except the giant letters flashing in front of her eyes…one set was MIT, and the other was OMG. She’d expected to feel a tremendous rush, but all she felt was…conflicted. And deeply, deeply scared.

The world had just opened up for her. Doves and angels and choirs singing. And all she could feel about it was…dread. Dread because she didn’t think Amelie would release her in the first place, but even if she did…even if she did, what about Shane? If Shane was even talking to her ever again.

God, it was such a mess.

She took another five minutes, sitting in silence, staring at her turned-off phone. Wondering who she should call. Her parents would support her no matter what; no help there. She wanted to talk to Shane, suddenly, but…but after last night…

She had nobody she could talk to.

Well, she would have said something to Michael, who was in the living room, getting his stuff, but by the time she got her courage together, he was on his way. He just waved as he put on a sun-blocking black coat and hat and headed out the back door.

She shut her mouth, still trying to figure out how she felt. Mostly she just seemed…confused.

Eve was in the kitchen making pancakes. Alone.

“Morning, girlfriend,” Eve said, and dumped some lumpy batter into a hot pan, where it immediately started to sizzle. “You look like you need carbs.”

“Totally,” Claire said, and sat down to rest her forehead in both hands. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here.” Eve grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee, and slid it to her on the table. “Caffeine. Makes the world all bright and sparkly, or maybe that’s just me. Look, I gave you the fun mug.”

In Eve’s world, it was. It was a coffee mug with a dead-guy chalk outline on it, and it said he had decaf.

Claire mixed the coffee with all the things that made coffee drinking possible for her—milk, sugar, a little cinnamon—and sat nursing it, staring into the light brown surface but not seeing anything. She couldn’t think. All she could do was…feel awful.