She fumbled with the bag Ross had given her. The drugs spilled out over the clover in front of her, her own little wellspring of fabricated happiness. Leda’s eyes were immediately drawn to the small black Spokes envelope. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, getting into someone else’s head—a screwed-up head, sure, but wasn’t her own screwed up anyway?

Leda ripped the top of the envelope and popped the bright yellow Spokes pill into her mouth, swallowing it dry.

There was a brief, uncomfortable moment as her mind instinctively tried to push back. This didn’t happen when the Spokes were made for you, of course, but there was always a minute of adjustment when you took someone else’s Spokes, as the needs of their consciousness forced themselves onto your brain. She held her breath, forcing her mind to quiet, and the Spokes slid smoothly over her awareness like a blanket.

Everything felt softer, more liquid. Time seemed to stretch like a rubber band. She blinked. Whoever these belonged to, it was clearly someone with anxiety—this was practically a relaxant. She could almost feel the other person, like a ghostly presence, as the drug began to make its way through her brain, searching for memories that weren’t there, trying to elicit whatever emotional responses the person had needed.

Leda stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her elbows, the rest of the drugs still scattered on the clover around her like brightly colored candy. The shadows were increasing, stretching longer over the fountain and across her legs. It wasn’t cold out anymore. Eris and her dad, Leda thought again, with a dark, strangled laugh. She closed her eyes. Shadows of memories, half-formed thoughts, crouched hidden in her mind. I know you, she wanted to say, but why? How strange, it felt like déjà-vu, like this was all a song she’d heard before. Colors and shapes danced across her vision.

She recognized this high.

She knew it suddenly and instinctively, with a deep animal certainty brought on by the drug, the way she knew that she needed air to breathe. She’d done this before, experienced this particular blend of chemicals and neurostimuli. These were Cord’s Spokes.

How strange, she wondered, digging her hands into the four-leaf clovers. She broke a nail. It hurt a little. Why were Cord’s Spokes with Ross? Cord wasn’t desperate for cash. These were probably stolen.

Cord should know! She needed to tell him!

Leda floated up to 969 like a balloon. “Cord!” She was banging on the door. Somehow she’d made it here, though she didn’t remember taking an elevator, or a hover. Thank god, she thought, because her hands were starting to detach from her body and she was getting worried. She tucked them into her armpits. “Cord!” she repeated, louder.

The door swung open—but it wasn’t Cord standing there; it was Brice.

“Leda? What’s up?” Cord’s older brother said slowly. He was dressed to go out, in dark-wash jeans and a collared shirt that had a lot of buttons undone. He looked so cool. She wished she could be more like him.

Leda blinked. She wasn’t sure why she was here. Maybe Brice would know.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern. She was still standing weirdly, with her hands tucked into her arms. She lowered them self-consciously. It was more important that Brice like her. Even if her hands did float away.

“Why don’t you come in,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her gently inside. The walls seemed to be rippling toward her like waves in the ocean.

Brice led her to sit on the living room couch, pressing a cold glass of water in her hand. She drained it immediately. He said nothing, just refilled it. She drank the second glass more slowly.

“You’re high as balls,” he said, and she was happy because there was approval, or at least amusement, in his tone. “What did you take?”

Leda still had her red bag with her. She pulled out the empty Spokes envelope and handed it wordlessly to Brice. “Cord’s,” she remembered to say.

Brice’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me these are Cord’s? Did he give them to you?”

She didn’t answer. “Leda Marie Cole!” Brice said suddenly, reaching forward to grab her shoulders, and something about it—maybe the use of her full name, which she hadn’t realized he knew—snapped her back into herself, at least partway. She shook her head.

“No,” Leda croaked, and cleared her throat. “My dealer had them. That’s why I wanted to … I mean, I got worried, for Cord. They’re stolen, right?” She slid both hands under her quads and sat on them to keep from shaking.

Comprehension flashed in Brice’s eyes. “Rylin,” he said under his breath.

“What?” Leda asked. Brice looked at her through slitted eyes, then apparently decided that either she was too high to remember or it didn’t matter.

“Our new maid. I think she and Cord have been getting a little … close,” he explained.

“Fire her,” Leda said automatically. “Knowing Cord, he’s slept with her by now anyway.”

“I love how ruthless you are.” Brice laughed. “And, Leda, you should always ask me or Cord if you want Spokes. Don’t go through your dealer again. You got lucky this time, honestly.”

“I didn’t even want Spokes, it’s just what my dealer had … I wanted xenperheidren.”

“Wait a minute,” Brice said. “Stay right there.” As if she were going anywhere, she thought, dazed.