It's like the air itself has been washed—clean and sweet, no rot, no salt, no garbage festering in alleys. It's wrong. It's so wrong my nose burns with it.

The limo hums beneath me, leather seats soft and cool. Evie's already pressed her face to the window, eyes wide and starved. Carlos is on my other side, hands fisted in his lap, jaw tight. Jay's sprawled across the back seat like he owns it, but his fingers keep drumming against his thigh.

Somewhere in this perfect kingdom is a wand. Somewhere in this perfect kingdom is a future my mother carved out for me with a smile that never reached her eyes.

Instead, I watch a girl on a bicycle wave at our limo, and I don't know what to do with the feeling in my chest.

The limo glides to a stop in front of a sprawling stone building, banners of blue and gold snapping in the breeze. A crowd of students has gathered, all clean uniforms and bright smiles. They're already whispering, pointing at us, staring like we're the animals.

But he's smiling. A real smile, uncertain and warm all at once.