CLAIRE

I couldn't believe we'd gotten to Thanksgiving Break already. Starting tomorrow, I could sleep in and I wouldn't have to get on the tram to go uptown. You could feel it in the air—I think just about everybody at North Kingsbury High was ready for the freedom of Thanksgiving Break.

No one could really pay attention in Psych, much to our teacher's annoyance. Charlotte, the consummate professional of a scholar that I've always known her to be, even she couldn't stay focused on the regions of the brain.

I thought I saw Malcolm look my way once or twice, despite being surrounded by chatty friends who hung on his every word. I didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back.

I'd made my choice and that was that. And I was pretty happy with it, all things considered. I didn't need the longing or the questions of what would have happened if I'd chosen him. I didn't need to meet his eyes and feel some sort of prickling doubt.

Besides, I had a feeling now—and maybe it was just the arrogance of teenage lovers—that it wouldn't have worked out anyway. I would have always found my way back to Tristan. One way or another.

And that was more than fine by me.

There was something pretty great about being able to walk into Ms. Jennings' class and to sit next to my boyfriend. I could hold his hand on the desk, and just know he was there.

A lot had changed, in the past three weeks, and I couldn't say I hated the changes. I was starting to feel like myself in a way I hadn't really since my mom died, and like I was finally alive again.

Persephone had returned from the Underworld and had become a stronger and more powerful goddess than before.

"What are you thinking about?" Tristan took my hand into his, interrupting my contemplation.

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"Just how things have changed lately." I closed my notebook and turned toward him. I glanced at Ms. Jennings, who was fiddling around with something or another while on the computer. We were technically supposed to be taking some time to finalize our presentations.

But we already had ours in the bag. Even if it was about my mom's murderer.

"And what about the changes?" He was amused. Looking at him, I noticed that the circles under his eyes weren't so dark and deep.

"I like them." I risked the wrath of my teacher and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I like this one most of all."

"Oh." His face turned red.

I grinned. "So, ready to present, then?"

"As I'll ever be." He paused. "I'll almost be sad, that the project's over. Since it brought us back together and all."

I blinked—there was something strange about his words there. I didn't know what it was—it was true. But there was something missing.

I didn't entirely understand that feeling, so I just left it alone.

"I guess so, but I'll personally be glad to put it behind me." I was still grappling with the new truth about my mom, about Psyche. I'd taken her mantle—but it left me with more questions about her death at Heretic's hands.

We weren't gods, that was true. But it just seemed so much more likely, especially now that I had wielded her power for myself. I'd seen probably only a fraction of what my mother could do with years and years of training, of being Psyche.

She should have been easily able to get out of the fire.

Unless. . .

Unless she didn't die from the fire itself, like Dad had told me. I could see it, him lying to protect me. That would explain so much—

"Are you okay?" Tristan had noticed the change.

I looked to him with wide eyes. He didn't know, I couldn't tell him, especially not here, but I needed to tell someone that—

Before I could explain it away or Mrs. Jennings could tell us to start presenting, we were interrupted by a laser bolt striking the window and firing down. I pulled Tristan down under the desk as I dropped down to avoid the trajectory of the laser bolt.

I only realized as Tristan looked at me that I'd used my powers to boot. The silver energy dissipated around me— but I don't think anyone noticed in the chaos that ensued, the storm of sound surrounding us.

"Go," he said, thrusting my bag into my hands. "I'll cover for you— save us all."

It was the emotions of it all, I think, the adrenaline. But I kissed him, in a declaration that sang through the desolation.

I don't know how long it was before we broke away, and I knew what I had to do.

So I picked myself up and made a beeline for the girls' room.

It was time to become a hero.