Chapter 1

I never understood why my body broke down every time I sat the Merritt exam.

The first year, I passed out halfway through the exam. One second I was working a problem, the next the room tilted and went dark. They carried me out on a stretcher with half the test still blank.

The second year I didn't even get that far. I sat down, the page started to swim, and then there was nothing.

By then the whole town knew me as the girl who fainted. Top of every practice test, every mock exam—and a wreck the moment it counted.

Tomorrow was my third try, and my last. That exam was the only way I'd ever afford college, and after two collapses, nobody but me still thought I'd make it.

My door opened.

"Still up, Sloane? I made you some tea. Drink it while it's hot and get to bed."

My mother came in with a steaming mug, smiling the soft, warm way she always did. She set it on my desk and smoothed the hair back from my face.

"You push yourself too hard. I don't care how you do tomorrow. I just want you healthy. Drink this, get some sleep, do your best. That's all I ask."

The tea smelled sweet, the way it always did. My mouth watered.

And something in me said, loud and certain: don't.

Both years, she'd brought me this same mug the night before. Both years I'd drunk every drop. Both times I'd woken in a hospital bed with the exam already over.

"What's taking so long?" My brother Cole leaned in the doorway, chewing gum. "She makes you tea every single night. You think that's free?" He smirked. "If I'd fainted twice I'd have quit and gotten a job by now. You could drink a gallon of that stuff and still choke."

"Cole." My mother's voice stayed soft. "That's no way to talk to your sister." Then she turned back to me, gentle again. "Don't listen to him. Go on, drink up. I'll wait and take the mug."

I looked at all that love in her face, and my stomach turned over.

I took the mug and made myself smile. "It's too hot. Let me cool it down first."

"It'll upset your stomach cold, and you've got the exam tomorrow." Her voice picked up an edge, and her eyes dropped to the mug in my hands. "Drink it. I'll wait."

Something cold went up my spine.

I raised the mug, then faked a cough into my sleeve. "Sorry—my stomach's a little off. Could you get me some warm water first? I'll drink it right after."

She frowned, weighing whether I was lying. Then she sighed. "You are so much work." And she went.

The second her steps faded down the hall, I moved.

I pulled out the empty bottle I'd hidden under my desk and poured the tea into it—fast, listening for her on the stairs—all of it but a thin film at the bottom of the mug. I capped it and buried it under the clothes in my backpack.

When she came back with the water, I was wiping my mouth, holding the empty mug out to her. "All done."

She studied the film at the bottom for a second. Then her shoulders loosened, and she smiled—really smiled this time.

"Good girl. Get some sleep." She paused in the doorway. "Tomorrow it'll all be over."

The door clicked shut. Her footsteps faded.

I sat there shaking. I dug the bottle back out, wrapped it in a shirt, and pushed it as deep into my bag as it would go.

Two years. Two collapses. A whole town certain something was wrong with me.

But this time I hadn't touched the tea.

This time, I told myself, nothing could go wrong.