I stop with a slice of pineapple halfway to my mouth. How far does it go? “Hell if I know. Reese, Jay, and Elizabeth seemed to be focused on Quinn and the triangles. I don’t even know what’s special about them, except that I can see them and Elizabeth can’t.”

“And all these things started happening at the same time as you making things, right?”

I don’t want to even talk about that, but I guess I don’t really have a choice anymore. I have to face it. “It seems like too big a coincidence for them not to be all wrapped up together. I just don’t see the connection.”

“Reese is out of town and Jay’s working a ton, right?” he says, clearly hinting at something.

I nod and start on the salami, rolling up one of the slices and taking a tentative bite. Pretty good. “Where are you going with this?” I ask once I swallow.

“Maybe she wanted some extra security while she’s not around. You know, eyes and ears.” Benson grabs a piece of salami too and puts it in his mouth, but the movement is so instinctual, I’m not sure he’s tasting anything.

“Like a bodyguard?” I like the sense that makes, even though—if it’s true—it would mean that Reese and Jay are lying to me again.

Still.

“Yeah,” he replies, taking another bite.

“I dunno,” I muse. “My magical power is pretty damn lame. Why would they bother to go through all this trouble for someone who can make stuff that poofs into thin air? There must be more.”

Benson just stares at me. “Could you do anything … I don’t know, supernatural when you were little?”

“Yeah, I made the glass on a snake’s cage disappear right before my acceptance letter from Hogwarts arrived.”

Benson just raises an eyebrow at me.

“Seriously, I had a totally normal childhood. There’s really nothing stand out about me.”

His hand intercepts mine as I reach for another slice, tightening around my fingers so quickly it almost hurts. “That’s not true,” he whispers. Then, as though it hadn’t happened at all, he lets go and continues. “Is there any possibility your parents were in some kind of organized crime?”

A bark of laughter flies out of my mouth before I can clap my hand over it. “Hardly,” I say. “Trust me, not the type. And, uh, we certainly didn’t have enough money for either of my parents to be secretly involved in something that extreme.”

“What about Reese and Jay?”

I’m sober again. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all, actually. Reese especially. She’s really closemouthed about her business.” I hesitate, then voice the suspicion that’s been eating me since Jay called Reese Samantha yesterday. “What if … what if they aren’t really my aunt and uncle?”

Benson’s eyebrows scrunch. “Is that even possible?”

“Sadly, yes. I didn’t know them before. They could be anyone. And it just seems too big a coincidence for them to be so into whatever is happening to me when they weren’t a part of my life until eight months ago.”

“How can you not know for sure?” Benson asks. “Didn’t you meet them before the crash?”

“It’s a little … complicated.” Like everything in my life. “They’re practically shirttail relatives who weren’t even around until the last, I guess ten years, and some of my memories from before the crash are shaky. I do remember Reese, I think, but it’s been long enough that it could be memories of someone who looks a lot like her.”

“Can’t your, I don’t know, grandparents tell you?”

“My step-grandma died a couple years ago. Her funeral was actually the last time I saw Reese, but she was all blotchy and had one of those fancy veil things on her hat that covered part of her face. When I think back, the veil is all I remember. It was sheer, I’m sure. But in my memories, it blocks out everything.”

“Other siblings?” Benson asks, though I suspect he’s expecting my answer.

“Well, you know I’m an only child. My dad was too, till Grandpa married Reese’s mom. And she mostly lived with her dad.”

“And you never reached out to anyone, like, back home?”

My memories of Michigan are the shadiest of them all; names and phone numbers flit away from my consciousness like sand through my fingers. But it’s more than that—and hard to explain to someone who still has a family. “When you lose … everyone … no one looks at you the same. Even the doctors and nurses who didn’t know me gave me these awful looks.”

“Pity?” Benson whispers.

“It’s more than pity.” I feel the tears build up in earnest now and shake my head. “My mom and dad—” My voice cracks and I take a breath and try again. If they were alive, none of this would be happening—well, I guess I don’t know that. But even if it was, I’d have them to turn to. “I was still trying to deal with everything, so when Reese and Jay basically offered me total seclusion at their house, I took it.” I realize, as I say it, that I really am a recluse.

If I disappeared, like that man outside the candy store … no one would know.

The possibility horrifies me.

“I just didn’t want to go back,” I finally say, “and be so much less of a person than I was before.”

Benson’s thumbs rub against the backs of my hands. “You’re not less. Different? Maybe. I didn’t know you before. But you couldn’t be less.”