Vieira is in art class. She arrived early and has already begun warming up. She practices pushing the pencil with different amounts of pressure, and her fingers are already tinged black from the pencil lead.

She has finally caught up on sleep since the night with The Divide. It has been three days, and with the weekend on the horizon, she is looking forward to a period of rest. She has homework, of course she does. It is never-ending; like a dog chasing its own tail, she'll never catch up. Between the history lessons and the painting and the drawing and the pottery. No end shall pass.

Luis is the last to arrive to class, just a minute after it has begun. He nods at the professor, who glares at Luis. With a wink to the professor, Luis sits down in the only empty seat. His mop of curly hair bounces as he sits down.

"Vieira," he says, nodding.

She looks at him. "Luis."

As they begin to sketch the still life before them, a hush falls over the class. No words pass through their lips, as their brows tighten and they draw.

Luis passes Vieira a note.

"Did you get the next invitation?"

Vieira turns her head and cocks an eyebrow at him.

"It was delivered this morning," he answers in a whisper.

Luis was tucked while he was racing to get to class. He almost missed it; the letter had slid underneath a pile of his clothes. Perhaps, he thinks, it was delivered last night and he just had not noticed it.

Leaning backwards, Vieira digs into the pocket of her jacket. After all, that is where it was left last time. She feels it.

She doesn't know whether to feel happy or sad.

~~~

"Stop!" the ballet master calls out.

Felix, holding his pose to stage left freezes. When he sees the others relax, he copies them, folding himself down. He rolls his shoulders, desperate to stretch them. They ache, from hours and hours of rehearsing.

"We'll regroup on Monday," the ballet master tells them all. They nod their heads in sync. "Listen to the soundtrack until then. I expect you to be familiar when the orchestra joins us."

Felix makes his way off the stage. He pulls on a pair of track pants and his jacket, only to find a letter in his pocket. He will read it when he gets home.

He passes by Jetta, who is holding her violin case and waiting to make her way into the theatre.

She steps out of line and pulls up beside him. They walk just around the corner until they are out of sight from the others.

"Are you going?" Jetta asks.

Felix looks Jetta up and down. He feels indifferent, as though eating a cracker. If it's not stale, it's passable. In no way is it decadent, however, unless it is covered in caviar, and Jetta is certainly not caviar.

"Unfortunately," Felix says, though it isn't unfortunate.

Jetta looks at him. From his bright red cheeks to his arms, which brink on skeletal but just pass for human, to his feet, in designer shoes she could never afford. From what she heard out of Felix's mouth last night, he definitely thinks he is better than her. He thinks that he is better than everyone.

Jetta intends to prove him wrong.

"Should we bring bathing suits?" Jetta didn't pack one, so she will have to take the bus into town to grab one.

Felix shrugs. "I don't know. Now, if you'll excuse me."

When Felix walks away, Jetta heads back. She holds her head high, even though she worries he might be right. Maybe she doesn't belong.

~~~

Briar's name is displayed on her dorm's door, so after about twenty minutes of searching, Ellie finds it. She knocks on the door, and worries that Briar is not even home.

To her surprise, Briar opens the door. The two stare at each other for a second.

"I have..." Ellie begins looking around. There is no one in the corridor, but she doesn't want to risk anything, "sensitive information."

Briar sighs and opens the door wide for Ellie to enter.

As Ellie looks around, she sees that Briar has taste. There are a few photographs, hung on the wall in frames with command strips. The lamp is new, and matches the black of the frames. There are a few pops of red here and there, but for the most part, the room is black and white.

Ellie's room is also decorated, but not with photos of Paris and private school. In fact, Ellie has art instead of photos. Photos are art, she thinks, but not the same kind.

"Yes?" Briar questions Ellie, closing the door behind them.

Stopping by unannounced is rude, but they have no other way of contacting each other. Briar knows this, and doesn't particularly mind. Ellie intrigues her, in a way most of the others do not.

"I did some reading in the library," Ellie says. "Formaldehyde."

"What?" Briar asks.

"I should've known before, my sister always complained about the smell in her labs," Ellie continues. "The body was preserved. It would have to be from a funeral home."

"So, it wasn't a murder?" Briar puts a hand to her chest and she sighs in relief. "Well, I suppose we should be happy we didn't tell anyone else then."

Ellie nods in agreement. They should be happy. Unfortunately, Ellie cannot escape the feeling that she is anything but happy.

~~~

Much to his dismay, Ez is spotted in the library. He is skipping class; he hates the monotony of it all. He was hoping the library would be a safe place, considering most of everyone he knows it in class. Of course, the other initiates had slipped his mind.

Roman waves at him and makes their way over. "You're Ez, right?"

Ez nods.

"Roman," Roman introduces themselves again, their voice quiet in case a librarian hears the pair.

Ez is glad. He had forgotten their name.

"So, I've been doing a bit of research into iambic tetrameter and the poem," Roman says, plopping down with a book in front of them. "I knew it sounded familiar, but I didn't know where from. So, after a few hours of combing Shakespeare and nursery rhymes, I found it."

They flip open to the bookmarked page and flip it over so that Ez could see it.

He clears his throat and reads aloud.

"One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told."

"It's a nursery rhyme about magpies," Roman says. "The number you see corresponds with what you get."

"There's no twelve," Ez reflects, reading the poem over again. It's not in any particular meter that he can discern.

Roman nods. "Exactly. I think that's why it's off. I think only seven of us are going to be accepted eventually."

Ez bites his lip, reading the poem once more. Despite their constant quoting, which is rather frequent, Roman might prove themselves a useful ally.

"What do you think?" Roman asks.

"You're right," Ez says. "At least, I assume you are."

"Should we tell the others tomorrow at the docks?"

Ez shakes his head. "Let's keep this secret between the two of us. Two for joy, or whatever."

~~~

Kai is walking back from practice when he spots her. Evelyn, alone, having a picnic. She's a fine specimen; one who he didn't get to talk to the night of their meeting much. Since after this practice he was able to shower, he feels confident enough to approach her.

"Evelyn, right?" he asks.

Evelyn puts down her magazine and looks up at him. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear looking up at him. She wears a white turtleneck complimented with baby blue pants, and while she remarks that Kai doesn't exactly have the same style, it's still there.

Besides, he so handsome that it hardly matters if he hasn't got style.

"Yes," her voice is high-pitched. "You're Kai."

"That's right," he says, smiling at her. He can smell her innocence like a hound. "Mind if I sit?"

She scooches over with just enough space for Kai to join. He sits on the ground and lets his leg rest against hers. She can feel her heart beginning to race in her chest. He smiles at the blush that hits her cheeks.

"You say you don't drink," Kai points out. "Ever think about changing that?"

"Well," Evelyn tips her head forward so that she's looking down, and he's unable to see her bashful expression. "Not really."

"I bet you'd be the life of the party," he says.

She giggles. "Maybe."

"You excited for Saturday?" he asks.

Evelyn thinks back to the letter and feels her stomach unsettle. It warned her that after disobeying the night of the party, she has no room for other mistakes. "Of course. Do you think everyone got a second letter?"

"I don't know," he admits. "You were the only one on my mind."

"Really?" she manages.

"I can't wait to see you in your bathing suit," Kai winks.

Evelyn cannot help but swoon.

~~~

Tom is storming across campus, looking for any other initiate. He doesn't know where to look except the theatre, where most people have their classes, but he isn't about to interrupt a class to harass someone.

Instead, he thinks about the contents of his letter. His last chance at what? At belonging to people who barely want to have him. He's angry. Never mind that, he's furious. How dare they threaten him and then demand that he be on his best behaviour?

Amongst her friends, walking back from Latin, Poppy spots Tom storming down a pathway. She excuses herself to approach him. Hurrying along up beside him, she grabs his hand.

"Tom," she begins.

He relaxes. Touch has always had a way of doing that to him. Just the singular component of relaxing.

He looks at her, perhaps one of the people he least expected to pay him any attention.

"You good, Tom?" she asks, looking him over. "I say this with love, you look like a mess."

"They..." he lowers his voice. "They're already threatening to kick me out."

"Really?" she asks, her eyes wide. "Why?"

"They say I'm not following the rules," he points out.

"Well, are you?" Poppy asks. "I don't mean to be rude, but you refused to drink."

"I don't drink."

"Well," Poppy watches his shoes digging into the dirt, "they do. If you want to join them, you've got to play by their rules, Tom. If you don't, you can always back out."

Tom doesn't know that he wants to partake in something so clearly not designed for him. He thinks of Vieira, and how she will slowly slip from his fingers like sand if he cannot be in The Divide. He thinks of how none of the kids in his department bother to talk to him. In The Divide, at least with the initiates, no one (not even Evelyn) seems bothered by his poverty.

Is a drink really worth the risk?

~~~~~

I think I finally have the plot of this thing figured out. Also, the next chapter is very mean. Very mean indeed. Oh well, what did you think of this one. Let me know if I made any mistakes with your characters, and I will correct them. Thank you for reading!