The after-school scents of a just-emptied school wafted around me with my every step. Old ketchup and sweaty sneakers and some musty scent I could never identify. I sidled closer to Marcos and breathed in his cologne. Nothing too heavy or cliché. My boyfriend had phenomenal taste.

He slipped an arm around my waist as we caught up to Danica and Cloud at the vending machines.

“Please tell me you’re not sabotaging my snack source,” I said, not bothering to keep the snark out of my tone.

Danica rolled her dark-lined eyes. “Whatever happened to Tula the Health Nut?”

“You did,” I snapped, then reached past her and put my three quarters in for a Snickers, not worried at all that Danica would take my mood the wrong way. Her gravely giggle confirmed my suspicion. She’d put up with hangry Korrina for years and loved her anyways—that is, before Korrina figured out she was an honest-to-gods Siren and went off on her boyfriend-saving quest, skipping our senior year of high school.

I didn’t know if she was getting her GED or being homeschooled or if it even mattered. She wasn’t human. Human norms need no longer apply.

Unlike me and my list of unchecked universities to send applications to. A list my father had curated. All Ivy League, of course.

I huffed a bit and tossed my blonde, Blake Lively inspired mess-of-a-braid over my shoulder. Marcos looked down at me, concern warming his brown eyes. He knew the trouble I’d been having at home. Trouble I’d told no one about but him.

“Eat your Snickers, woman,” Cloud said, then jumped a little as Danica pinched his side. They were cute in a completely unconventional way.

I bit into the chocolate goodness with a side punch of protein and crossed my arms as I watched them get to work.

As the two remaining members of the original Mischief and Mayhem gang, and it being already halfway through senior year, they were pouring on the pranks thicker than ever.

Danica reached up through the vending machine—being tiny had its advantages—while Cloud fed in the contraption they’d put together. It looked like toaster with a hose connecting it to a transparent plastic bag full of small, yellow kernels.

“Is that popcorn?” Marcos asked, shooting me a bewildered look.

Technically, as the newest member of Mischief and Mayhem—though the title was pretty much honorary—I should know what Danica and Cloud were up to. But they kept some pranks close to the chest—because you have a hard time with the lying thing, Tula—so if it was something that could land them in serious trouble, I was kept out of the planning process.

Danica wiggled her lip ring. “That it is, boy-o. Popcorn kernels to be exact. And this little baby is hardwired to start popping the next time anyone slides a quarter in.” She giggled again, but this time it sounded slightly more manic.

“And how does this fit into pranking the popular to protect the misfits?” I finished up my snack and tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can.

“Tula”—Cloud said, and Danica straightened up next to him, quirking her lip up at the corner—“it’s free popcorn.” He ended on a duh.

Well, how was I supposed to know they’d changed up their mission statement? Pranks to protect and pranks for popcorn. Made sense.

Marcos and I left them to their devices, walked out of Prospect Heights Preparatory Academy, and down the noisy, already dark streets. My volunteer shift at the Brooklyn Public Library started soon, and after just a few more shifts, I’d be done with my required NHS hours for the year.

Marcos took my hand and walked me silently to the edge of Prospect Park, where the library dominated the view with its white curved walls and bigger-than-life entrance adorned with modern day hieroglyphs.

We’d been doing this a lot lately. Being quiet. We’d been together for almost two years, and the likelihood of us staying together after graduation? Not good. No matter how badly we wanted to stay together. And if we talked? All of that might spill out.

“I’ll see you after your shift?” Marcos asked, a note of uncertainty there that had never before existed.

“Yes please.” I reached up on my tiptoes and brushed his lips with mine, savoring the way my muscles seemed to melt every time we kissed. His hands tightened around my waist, and he deepened the kiss before pulling away.

I ducked into the massive library and tried to ignore the twinge in my stomach, the one that made me feel like every kiss from him was our last goodbye. The doors shut behind me, and I headed for the circulation desk to check in and get my assignment. They shoved my backpack into a secure locker reserved for volunteers, and I headed up to the Ancient History section where I’d be shelving books for the next few hours.

“Hey, Mel,” I called out to the librarian for this floor.

She waved from her desk, looking every bit the typical bespectacled librarian, except for the fact that she didn’t wear a bun and her cropped cut was tinged in blue. “Hey yourself. You still got that hot muffin for a boyfriend?” She peered over her glasses and took a sip of her pureed super greens.

“He’s still around.” I grinned.

She hmmed, which I never knew if I should take for approval or doubt, and got back to her computer.

I made my way to the back of the stacks, pushing the cart full of thick books on subjects like the Roman revolution, the fall of the Greeks, early Christianity, Ancient Egypt. I double-checked the Dewey code against the code on the shelves and organized book after book. There was something meditative about being in a library, with the weight of all these other lives pressing in on all sides.

Most of the people in these books never had to worry about what college they would attend, what major they would declare, what life they would lead. They simply lived. And that was something Dad had made very clear I could not do.

Bataris dominate end zones. We do not lose. We do not let go of the ball. We push forward until we have our victory.

I shoved the next book maaaaybe a little too hard onto the shelf. It vibrated.

“Sorry”—I checked the book’s title—“Nefertiti.”

“You are forgiven.”

I turned around, expecting Mel.

Not Mel.

A woman shimmered in front of me. A woman wearing a tall headdress, clothes made of tightly woven fishnet, and white stones around her neck. A woman that wasn’t quite corporeal.

“Uh,” I think I said.

“Blessed soul, on the verge of the unknown,” the fancy ghost said and dipped her chin, “I grant you the gift of certainty in your choices, should you pass my tests. Do you accept?”

I backed against the bookshelf and the wooden edges dug into my spine. “Who are you?” My voice was surprisingly calm, but I’d been through worse over the years—met scarier things that should not exist. Fancy ghosts were a welcome change.

Her painted eyebrows rose high on her smooth forehead, and it struck me that this was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen—and I’d studied fashion and the models that presented the clothes as if they were priceless pieces of art.

“I am Neferneferuaten Nefertiti, the Great King’s Wife, the Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt, and the Lady of All Women, and you, my dear, are preparing to make the choices that determine the course of your life.”

My mouth went dry. “The Nefertiti?”

Her full lips spread into a smile. “It never gets old knowing that my accomplishments live on to this day. Do you accept my gift?”

“To know which college I should go to?” I asked, confusion obscuring my thoughts. Why would an ancient, famous ghost care which college I attended?

“To know if university is the place for you at all.”

Her words hit me like a bullet to the chest. “Not go to college?” I whispered, as if that were even a possibility.

She nodded. “And to have complete certainty that you’ve made the correct decision, so you may move forward in life with a confidence not often granted to young people. So that you may accomplish great things with great passion.”

Everything inside me went still, as if even my heart was afraid to beat in fear of shattering this dream. This…possibility.

Nefertiti reached out her hand. “Are you willing to be tested and receive my gift?”

I slipped my hand into hers, surprised to find it warm and dry and strong. “Yes,” I said. “I accept.”

There was a bright blue flash, then other voices began to whisper in what must have been ancient Egyptian.

Nefertiti looked behind her. “I must go. The Council of the Gods approaches, and we are not on the best of terms.” She refocused on me, bent her knees until we were eye level with one another. “Let no one divert you from your path. Not even yourself.”

The lights flickered in the library, and I was alone.