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And these damn Watchers are relentless. Any time I leave the apartment out the front door, they follow me. It’s like being assigned your own personal prison guard.

“I’m going to meet up with Orion,” Fitzie says.

Oh, yeah.That’s the other thing. It’s petty and awful, but a stab of jealousy goes through me any time Fitzie hangs out with Orion. More than anything I hate that the situation has made me into the kind of person who’s jealous of his best friend. I’m happy he’s making friends, but it sucks that I’ve lost them.

That makes sixty.

But what matters is that I get to see Lysander today.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tell him as he goes out the door.

“Too late, I’m already not a sad sack!”

I wince as the door slams.

Lysander meets me in the usual spot. He yelps in surprise when I scoop him into a hug, lifting his feet off the ground. In spite of his height, he’s light as a feather. Sometimes I dream about throwing him over my shoulder and taking him home — just walking in through the front door with him caveman style.

What would the Watchers do then?

“Ez!” he squeaks, clinging to my shoulders.

“Sorry, sweets.” I put him down. “I?—”

I missed youis on the tip of my tongue, and I swallow it. I don’t know why, but my brain has decided I can’t let him see how badly this is affecting me.

“I brought you something,” he interrupts. He holds out the Midsummer King’s crown.

I push it down quickly. “Careful! That thing is real gold.”

“Of course it is,” he laughs. “Put it on.”

His laugh is infectious, and I chuckle. “What for? You want to do a little PG roleplay?”

He huffs. “What does that mean? Never mind — let’s walk.”

“No, c’mon. I’ll wear it.” I take the crown from him. It’s just as heavy and uncomfortable as the first time I put it on, the velvet band slippery and the weight forcing me to hold my head straight. But I don’t say anything, just give Lysander a wink and take his hand. “Where to?”

Lysander is oddly quiet as we walk, so I ramble to fill the silence. I’m not usually much of a talker. Something about him brings it out in me. He smiles and nods and gives all the signs that he’s listening, but I can’t help feeling he’s miles away.

“Is there something on your mind, sweets?” I nudge him gently.

“Oh, nothing,” he says, but then he looks away, an obvious sign somethingisup. “Let’s go this way now.”

The pool house comes into view. The smell of barbecue tickles my nose, and my stomach growls.

Lysander’s grip on my hand becomes firm and he steers me off the path, into a grassy dip next to the fenced off area where reams of shade dapple the hill. The barbecue smell grows stronger. He turns to me, his eyes wide.

“I hope you don’t mind —” he begins.

“Surprise!”

Lysander startles. I jerk upright and put an arm in front of him, and the crown lands on the ground with a thud. Then I realize who it is.

“Orion!”

Behind him, Plato, Larch, and Lilian emerge from hiding. “Surprise!” they cheer. Plato throws a handful of confetti in the air. They’re wearing… party hats?

“Huh?” I look back at Lysander, dropping my arm.