It was one of those days where everything lines up.

I woke before my alarm with a ton of energy. I weighed myself and noted with glee that I had lost two pounds—probably from the workout Gabe gave me last night, I remembered with a pleasing warmth in my belly. I brewed my coffee perfectly and the newly restored Grim started right up, as obedient as a well-trained dog. I hit all the lights on my way in to class and I didn’t even mind that all of my classmates were still discussing when the boards results would be posted. I was going to take them the next time they were given. No big deal.

Who was this new girl that everything came easily to?

Me, I thought giddily as I snagged a parking spot right next to the door.

I was so used to everything going wrong that I’d padded a lot of time into my morning out of habit. Since everything had gone right, I was the first one to arrive for class, a full half hour before it was supposed to start.

I stepped in and let the door close behind me, but a gust of wind from someone entering down the hall caught it and sent it slamming shut with a bang that made me jump.

A muffled cry came from behind the podium. Startled, I looked down the rows to see a face poking out, crumpled with a yawn. Her tight French braid was fuzzy and falling down with sleep.

“Rachel?” I called.

She leaped to her feet. “Please don’t tell,” she said, yanking at her rumpled clothes and re-tucking her shirt in.

I stared at her, horrified. “Is this where you sleep?” I asked her.

She pressed her lips together, and I cursed myself for even asking. “Is class starting?” she asked, and I realized it was more words than she’d said to me thus far.

I shook my head. “No, I’m early.”

She looked relieved and stifled another yawn.

I felt my heart tweak in sympathy. I didn’t know the girl, but I had the distinct feeling that she and I had a lot in common. We both moved around the edges of things, wary and waiting for someone to notice us.

Gabe had noticed me. I’d noticed her.

This was the morning where everything was going right. That was the only reason I had the courage to suggest what I said next. “In fact,” I said, setting down my books. “I was just heading over to the student union to grab some coffee.” I hadn’t planned on this at all, but she didn’t need to know that. “You want to come?” I asked hesitantly. “You look like you could use some help waking up.”

She looked at me warily. She had soft brown eyes that held some kind of childish innocence. Even braided, her dark blonde hair fell to the small of her back. She seemed far too young and naive to be an adult in the working world, yet that’s exactly what she was. “I have to start working in half an hour,” she said in a warning tone that sounded like it was a reminder to herself.

I grinned. “That’s more than enough time.”

A flickering fear danced across her face, but she quickly composed herself. Nodding, she followed me as we hurried through the lashing rain across the concrete plaza to the student union building. “Their coffee isn’t the best here,” I yelled over the wind, needing to fill the silence somehow. “But it’s hot and warms my hands up, and at least makes me feel like I should be awake. Maybe it’s a psychosomatic response, you know?”

I glanced at Rachel, who smiled but only slightly. She followed behind me through the ordering line. “What would you like?” I asked her.

“The same as you,” she demurred.

I paid for both of them, then handed hers over. “Thank you,” she said, holding it away from her body like she was afraid of it.”

I set mine down at one of the wobbly tables and took off the lid. “Do you take milk and sugar?” I asked.

Her face fell. All at once she sat down in the chair like someone had swiped her legs out from under her.

My nursing instincts kicked into high gear. “Are you faint?” I demanded. “Have you eaten?”

She looked up at me. “I’m okay,” she said. I widened my eyes when I heard how different her voice sounded. Gone was the breathy deference, and in its place was a kind of steely confidence that made me wonder what this girl had gone through—and wonder about those she’d left in her wake. “I was just realizing that I have no idea how I like my coffee.”

The way she said it, it sounded like a huge confession, but I couldn’t figure out why it was a revelation. “I think it’s better with a little bit of cream and one teaspoon of sugar,” I said.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Confused, I went over to the creamers, carefully prepared hers exactly the way I prepared mine, and brought it back. “Here you go,” I said.

She took a deep breath before taking a sip, then she licked her lips. She looked up at me. “This is the first time I’ve ever tasted coffee,” she said in that new, confident voice.

I blinked. “First time?”

She set the cup down and closed her eyes, then opened them like she was making a decision to trust me. “My religion forbade it,” she said.

“Your religion? Are you Mormon?”

She shook her head and looked down.

The realization hit me in slow-motion waves, lapping at the shore again and again until I was able to say it. “You’re one of God’s Chosen?” I asked. I’d never seen them working out in the community before. I’ve never seen their women wearing pants before, either. I’d also never been spoken to by any of them as they moved like shadows through our community, ghosts we all saw but never spoke of.

Rachel wasn’t a ghost, that much was clear.

She lifted her gaze to me and her eyes were direct and clear and more than a little fierce. “Not anymore,” she said firmly.