Travis turned in his seat, his face ashen with fright as he whispered to me. I dropped the pills back into my bag, feeling a momentary rush of relief—he sees it, too—before panic began to set in. Travis confirmed it. She’s real—this was all real. And right now, she’s blocking the only exit to the classroom. “You see it, right?” he asked, panicked. I nodded, and gulped against the lump in my throat. “Are those contacts? I don’t think those are contacts,” he hissed, darting another nervous glance at Blaise, whose large black eyes were dotted with several twinkling facets. “We need to leave,” I said, my voice low, and Travis nodded in agreement, shrugging into the hoodie he’d slung over the back of his desk. “Stop talking,” Miller ordered, glaring at us before returning his attention to his book. “And you—Blythe? Bunny?” he asked, snapping his fingers in the air as he tried to recall her name.
