I looked out and down, and for a second wasn’t sure what I was seeing. A ladder stretched diagonally from the window across a tiny space. I stared down into a minuscule courtyard ringed by tall, thin walls studded with windows. “What is this?”

“A light well. Go.”

I swung my bag over my shoulder, gave her a look of skepticism, and went. The ladder was freezing, wet, and slippery. It also bent and popped with every step. I was sure that any second it would slip from its mooring on the lower ledge and send us both clattering to the refuse-littered ground four floors below. The only thing keeping me moving was the sound of the Elysions hammering at the door and trying to get the chain to break off.

At last, I reached the bottom, where the base of the ladder rested against another window ledge on the opposite side of the light well. I slipped inside. Jenny clambered down after me then swung the ladder away from her window. It crashed to the ground.

“They’ll be back down any second,” she said. “We have to hide.”

She pulled me farther into the room. There was a narrow, steep set of stairs leading down into the floor. We descended, and I found myself in some sort of storage area. Giant crates of pop and pallets stacked with snack foods surrounded us. We were in the back room of the bodega.

Jenny leaned against the wall. “So now you see why I’m scared.”

“Yeah. All this on-the-run stuff really does a number on your adrenaline levels.” Speaking of which, I’d just about run out. All-nighters, too much caffeine on top of too little food, and thrilling escapes—not to mention I hadn’t exactly slept well the night before last—and you had a girl ready to drop. “Explain why we ran?”

She blinked at me. “Because they were trying to break into my apartment.”

“Then we call the police,” I said. “We don’t need to hide. What are a bunch of businessmen going to do to us in broad daylight on the streets of Manhattan?”

“This from the girl who a few hours ago thought I’d been kidnapped,” she snapped. “I don’t want to find out what they’d do to me. Hence, I don’t want them to catch me.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “So what do we do now?”

“You mean what are you going to do, Amy. You’ve got the information now. Are you going to let them snatch your society out from under you?”

“It’s your society, too, Jenny.”

She looked down at her feet. “Not anymore. If it ever was.”

So the fifty-dollar bill Jenny had slipped the bodega employee had nothing to do with overpriced Manhattan energy bars. Instead she’d charged him with taking her car out of storage. Within half an hour, we were on the highway heading back to New Haven. I spent the time text-messaging Josh and Clarissa that they could stop worrying about Jenny, but please don’t spread the word until I’d spoken in detail to them both. After that, I tried again to get in touch with my old boss, Gus Kelting, member of the TTA board. Gus was on a business trip to Reykjavik, and according to his secretary, he wouldn’t be available for several days. I was transferred to his voice mail and pressed the 312 code, which I’d learned last summer took me to his special Rose & Grave mailbox. I hoped like hell he was checking his messages from Iceland. If not, we kids would be on our own with this one—though maybe it was time to see if we could hack it without help.

I stayed awake as long as possible, watching to see if we were being followed and debating with Jenny the necessity of our thrilling escape.

“These guys’ idea of being a badass is sabotaging a summer internship, not breaking kneecaps,” I said, finally agreeing with the argument everyone had been throwing at me since Jenny vanished.

“How about hiring thugs to break kneecaps?” Jenny asked. “I’m from the Bronx. I don’t take chances.”

Fair enough.

I fell asleep soon after, and awoke only when Jenny parked in the York Street garage and turned off the ignition. Home sweet home.

“I don’t want to go back to my room,” she said.

“Why not? It’s nice and clean now.” I gave her a weak, sleepy smile. “Come home with me if you want. Josh will probably be in the room, and we can tell him the whole story. I promise he’ll be more coherent than I am.”

She bit her lip. By this point, I was surprised she hadn’t bit it through. “I don’t know how I can face Josh. I don’t know how I can face any of them.”

Frankly, I didn’t know how she was going to do it either, but hopefully we’d be able to steer quickly past accusations and recriminations and straight on to the issue at hand: Elysion.

Speaking of people we didn’t want to face at that moment, the first person we saw as we entered the gate of Prescott College was none other than George Harrison Prescott himself.

“Hey there, Boo,” he said, his tone jovial and not at all indicative of his months-long duplicity. Cold, man. Ice cold. “Back from New York?”

“Looks like it,” I replied, while Jenny pulled down the brim of her baseball cap, exposing her boyish, shorn nape, and pretended to read the bulletin board.

“Find anything?”

I shrugged, because I couldn’t trust myself to lie to him. I wanted to wring his neck. And what would be the point of making conversation anyway? It was entirely possible he was toying with me, that he and the rest of his Elysion cronies already knew about the break-in at “Ada Lovelace’s” apartment. No doubt the super had told the men about Jenny’s visitor before he’d let them have his keys. “I’m really tired. I’m going to try to grab some sleep.”

“Can I see you later?” He slipped an arm around my waist. Jenny’s back stiffened, echoing, no doubt, my own sudden relationship with good posture.

George noticed my decided lack of thrill when it came to his touch, and dropped his arm. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just tired.” Which was true, or at least half true. I was exhausted, only not “just exhausted.”

“Well, give me a call later if you want to get together. I probably won’t be in until late.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

Jenny and I continued on our way, through the courtyard and up the steps to my suite, which glowed with warm yellow lights. I could see the door to my bedroom standing slightly ajar, and my eyes grew heavy again. Come on, Amy, buck up. Miles to go before you sleep.

“I don’t think he recognized you,” I said, swiping my card at the entryway door.

“I don’t think he recognizes anything he doesn’t classify under the category of possible sexual partner,” Jenny snapped. “So we have that going for us. You aren’t going to call him later, are you?”

“Just tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

Josh and Lydia were seated on the sofa of our common room, digging into a box of pizza. They looked up, and Josh’s mouthful actually fell onto his shirt.

“Oh my God,” he said. “What happened to you guys?”

“Amy,” said Lydia, “you look like shit.”

“Thanks, hon. I’ll love you forever if that’s pepperoni.”

“You loved me forever years ago, but yes.” She grabbed another paper plate.

I checked out my reflection in the glass. Sure enough, there were bags under the bags under my eyes, and my face was streaked with dirt. And this was what George had wanted to get together with later? Blinded by lust, perhaps? “Never mind. I think I need a shower first.”

“Your bedroom’s clear,” said Josh. “I’ve been checking regularly.” Only then did he choose to recognize Jenny’s presence. “Hi.”

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Hi.”

Pleasantries aside, I left the not-so-merry group and took a shower. Say what you will about dorm life, there’s very little to compare with the glory of a scalding hot, elephant-strength Prescott College bathroom shower. Twenty minutes of steam seeping into my pores later, I emerged, reddened and relaxed, shrugged into my robe, and headed back to the suite.