Caroline began sorting through the boxes. “This is just temporary, Eris,” she said, without looking up. “I’m going to get a job, figure something out.” A job doing what? Eris thought, kicking open the only door left, the one that must lead to her bedroom.

It was dusty and cramped, about half the size of Eris’s closet in her old life. There would barely be room for anything else once they got a bed moved in there.

Something crawled across the toe of her sandal. Eris looked down and saw a giant cockroach, its feet twitching madly. She jumped back with a wild shriek, and it skittered away.

“Eris?” her mom called from the other room. “Are you okay?”

“Of course not! None of this is okay!”

Her mom started toward her, but Eris was on a roll and there was no stopping her. “I hope it was worth it!” she screamed. “Cheating on Dad with some random guy. I really hope it was worth ruining our lives!”

“It wasn’t some random guy,” Caroline began, but Eris cut her off, putting her hands dramatically over her ears.

“Oh my god, I don’t want to hear about it!”

“Eris—”

“How can I believe anything you say anymore?” She stumbled blindly out the door and slammed it behind her, not caring where she went as long as she got away.

Just then, her eartennas began to ring, and her contacts lit up with an incoming ping. Avery. Eris declined it. Avery had no idea what was going on, of course: Eris hadn’t told anyone. But whatever Avery wanted to talk about, Eris couldn’t handle it right now. The problems of the upper floors felt a lifetime away.

She slumped against the wall in the hallway, biting back a scream.

“I know you.”

Eris turned, furious at whoever dared talk to her. A Hispanic girl about her own age stood several doors down. She was wearing fake-leather pants, a gold bandeau top, and jangly earrings. One hand was holding a plain black halluci-lighter, which she held up now to take a long, slow drag, puckering her lips into an O as she exhaled the bright green smoke. Potshots, then.

“I don’t think so,” Eris said shortly.

“You’re a member at the club where I work. Altitude.”

Eris glanced at the girl—her heart-shaped face framed by black bangs, her legs casually crossed, ending in bright blue cowboy boots. She didn’t recognize her. “You were sort of rude to me, in fact,” the girl went on, dark eyes narrowed.

Eris said nothing. If this girl was looking for an apology, she wasn’t going to get it.

“So.” The girl’s eyes traveled up and down Eris’s outfit, her designer jeans and the pearl studs in her ears. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Suit yourself.” The girl shrugged.

Eris eyed the girl’s halluci-lighter. No way that it was the good stuff she usually smoked, but suddenly she felt an overwhelming and desperate urge for a hit. Screw it. Her life was already in shambles; why not smoke up with an Altitude waitress who apparently hated her?

“I just found out that my dad’s not my dad,” Eris said bluntly, and walked over. The girl held out the halluci-lighter, revealing a small inktat at the base of her wrist. “What’s that supposed to be?” Eris asked, distracted. She didn’t recognize the angular shape.

“It’s part of a set.”

“Where are the others?”

The girl laughed, giving her crisp dark curls a shake. She smelled like smoke and cheap perfume, and underneath, something spicy, like the scent of amber candles. “Like you’ll ever see them.”

Eris couldn’t be bothered to rise to the bait. She took a long, deep drag of the lighter, exhaling the smoke in a perfect ring. The girl raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Anyway,” Eris went on, “my dad had all the money, so now … it’s just the two of us.”

“Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, me neither, obviously.”

They stood in a strange silence for a while, passing the halluci-lighter back and forth. Eris kept waiting for someone to come tell them off—up on 985, she’d always had to smoke right by the vents, to keep the regulators from showing up—but the girl seemed surprisingly nonchalant. Maybe no one cared what went on down here.

Eventually the lighter was almost out of weed. The girl dropped it carelessly to the ground and crunched it to a fine black powder under her feet, then smeared the powder around with her heel. It was one of those cheap disposable lighters, Eris realized. “See you around. My name is Mariel, by the way.”

“Eris.”

“Well, Eris,” Mariel repeated, with a hint of laughter, still seeming amused at finding Eris down here. “Welcome to Baneberry Lane.”

“Is that really what this street is called?” Eris couldn’t believe anyone would give this dismal place such a happy-sounding name. It was delusional.

“Look up baneberries,” Mariel called out, disappearing into her apartment. So Eris did.

They were highly poisonous plants, often used in medieval suicides.

“Now it makes sense,” Eris muttered, wiping at a sudden angry tear.

She started to turn back toward 2704, but hesitated upon hearing voices in Mariel’s apartment—a low, adult voice in particular. Probably Mariel’s dad. For some reason the sound of it sparked Eris into motion. She couldn’t just wait around smoking any longer, wondering what her dad was thinking. She had to talk to him.