I’ve said before that predicting someone’s behavior is easy. That you start by assuming the worst and raise your expectations slightly until you have something more realistic. That of all the base instincts and baser desires, selfishness is the most common motivator.

And I stand by that. All of it.

But sometimes, people surprise you.

It was a moment that lasted a lifetime. Stretching out long enough that I had time to mentally sort through my entire inventory, my abilities, and possible actions, all to come to one simple conclusion. There was nothing I could do.

It doesn’t matter. You don’t know her. It doesn’t matter.

chanted in my ear.

But it did matter. The very first day, when the meteor struck, Nick and I had talked about Jinny. About how the rumor mill’s attention wouldn’t be on him for much longer and would soon switch to her. It hadn’t bothered me at all then, the idea of a person’s life being thrown into chaos. It didn't matter. I didn’t know her.

Yet, there she was, in an entirely different situation, deciding to prioritize the life of a stranger over hers. I couldn’t understand it.

And I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

Jinny began to fall.

A brief fall, rather than a long one. She collapsed onto empty space and pushed herself up unsteadily. When she rose, she was still smiling, though her knees were visibly quivering. “Nailed it.”

I slashed at a rising crossbow bolt, sending its invisible carrier spinning off the platform, and made a break for the center. Now closer, I could see what had convinced Jinny of the undetectable bridge. There were two sets of wooden posts, with rope that disappeared into nothingness a few feet out.

I stepped out hesitantly, not feeling fully safe until my foot came down on something solid.

Talia disentangled herself and followed behind me, limping onto the bridge. She was bleeding, every crimson drop plummeting to the dark chitin floor far below. We hustled across the bridge at first, but when it became apparent that none of the bugs were following, slowed our pace.

But my mind didn’t slow. It was still reeling, grasping at theories, endeavoring to cobble together anything to make what had just happened make sense. The theories grew more outlandish the longer we walked. Maybe she was an agent of the Allfather, tasked with keeping me alive? Only that required a fervent level of dedication unlikely to develop in less than a week. Title interference? Perhaps she was suicidal. A stretch considering her attitude and behavior, but people who’ve decided to kill themselves often seem happiest right before they follow through. Or maybe she was a thrill seeker who enjoyed putting her life on the line.

None of it tracked.

We arrived at the other side in utter silence. Even Talia asked me for a health potion through suggestion, rather than speaking aloud. There was a plain door before us now, entirely absent menacing armholes.

Wordlessly, I slid down the wall, still catching my breath. Jinny sat down next to me, looking equally relieved. Talia—to my utter shock—settled in Jinny’s lap, resting her muzzle on her paws.

“Here.” Jinny held out a potion to me. “You’re hurt. And you’ve been tucking into your supply to keep our guide happy, so it’s only fair.”

“I don’t buy it,” I finally said.

“I’m giving it to you.”

“Not the potion,” I waved her off. “The whole Disney Princess facade. I saw you before. And sure, maybe you weren’t quite like the rest of them—you stayed in contact with Nick, while the rest of your group shunned him—but you fit in just fine. Rolled up together in your Priuses, and your Audis, and your Range Rovers, decked out to the nines in whatever was trending, pausing in the hallways to pose for Instagram selfies, not a care in the god-damned world.” My words picked up tempo. I knew vaguely that I was saying things I shouldn’t, especially considering what had just happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. “And I cannot, for the life of me understand, how someone like that, did what you did.” I pointed to the bridge. “So please, explain it to me. Is it your title?”

Jinny held silent. There was a sadness in her green eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You know, I saw you too.”

“When?”

“The rankings aren’t public, but I organize the honor roll. You were always one spot above me. Some part of me hated you for that at first, just a little. But then I got curious. Who the hell was this Matt, and why had I never seen or heard of him?” Jinny leaned back against the wall. “Since we were so evenly matched, I figured the least I could do was invite you to Study Group. And I still couldn’t find you. God, you must have walked by me at least half a dozen times before I finally put a face to a name.”

“I keep to myself,” I said.

“No. You don’t. You revel in yourself.” Jinny shook her head. “I was trying to work up the nerve to invite you. It became something of a game, seeing if I could spot you. In the cafeteria, in the hallway. I got better at it. And the more I saw you, the more I realized.”

“Realized what?”

“That you might just be the angriest person I’d never met.”

A moment of silence passed between us. I found it difficult to re-contextualize everything that had happened.

“Well.” I ran a hand through my hair. “That’s… scathing.”

Jinny chuckled quietly and glanced down. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one who sees. Who considers themselves above it all. We’re all capable of judgment, just like we’re all capable of change.” She stuck her hand back out to me. “Now drink the dang potion before I have to ram it down your throat.”

“Only if you call it the damn potion,” I joked.

Jinny pressed her lips. “You know, rampant swearing is the sign of a limited vocabulary.”

“Do I strike you as someone with a subpar lexicon?”

“Fine. Drink the damn potion.”

I did. Immediately, the pain in my ribs and ache in my leg faded.

The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.

A series of thoughts occurred to me, one after another. Unlike the more outlandish theories from earlier, all the pieces slowly clicked into place. What I couldn’t hash out before, was why Jinny was so quick to put her life on the line. Even if it got us killed—the expected response was to stall, to look for some clue, to come up with an alternative strategy that wasn’t so extreme. It was simple self-preservation, and in this case, considering everything else, there was only one logical reason that self-preservation was absent.

I reconsidered the dead-eyed smile when she returned to school. The way she’d thrown herself into this trial with excitement, despite the obvious danger of the situation. How she’d walked off the precipice with a smile on her face.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“Known what?”

“That you’re dying.”