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If Maja didn’t know the significance of that tattoo, she might have brushed it off as someone being overly cautious. But having
been around the block in Outer Island, where she’d seen enough of the darkness that the tattoo could bring, she was piecing
together the puzzle. Forbidden Island probably had something to do with BK, but the extent of their connection was still up in the
air. Those who got into BK weren’t off to some fancy prep school; they were being plucked for something else, something darker
—maybe even for research. After all, it’s the most intelligent ones that are ripe for the picking. So what was the deal between BK
and that shadowy research facility? Her brow furrowed as Quentin’s voice continued to spill the beans. “Madam heard something
she shouldn’t have and has been fretting over me ever since. Her health’s been on the fritz, but the high school’s got an iron grip
—no walking out unless you’ve got someone to take over your place. Only way she can rest up at home is if someone else takes
her spot or, well, if she kicks the bucket.” “How did you figure I could paint?” Quentin’s lashes fluttered down as he tugged at his
“Once you fill in, you can enter your artwork in contests. Hit the mark for Middle Island, and you’re in. But getting to Inner Island?
That’s a whole different ballgame. If you’re digging into the tattoo, odds are you’ll need to head to Inner Island.” He rubbed his
neck, a shadow crossing his face. “In two months, and I’m supposed to be shipped off to Inner Island after the big test. My fate’s
up in the air.” No wonder the kid seemed so detached, so aloof for his age. “Maja, the secret of the jellyfish tattoo lies in Inner
Island—I’ve told you all I know. You’ve already agreed to this,” he said, the subtext clear: she can’t back out. Not that Maja was
in any position to back out now. From Quentin’s revelations, she gleaned that he was the only one among this year’s high
schoolers to crack the top ten rankings for the whole island—the smartest kid this year. Education on Outer Island was like being
stuck in some backwater village, making a shot at a better life tough to come by. So the fact that Quentin was stamped with that
tattoo probably made him the pride of the school. Now, as the new art teacher, Maja would rub elbows with the school’s brass
and maybe glean more intel. Luck was on her side, stumbling upon a lead so early in the game. “I did make a promise, didn’t I?”
Quentin stood up, reheating the takeout he’d brought and dishing it out to the other kids in the yard. Maja stayed inside, the
laughter outside softening her expression. Her hand was suddenly gripped by a
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woman’s, her voice raspy. “Quentin’s a good boy. I want him to live, to keep on living.” Maja’s mouth opened, but no words came
out. Her arrival had sparked hope, yet she hadn’t actually done anything yet. “I’ll do my best,” she managed. The woman
released her, sighing faintly. “Quentin’s got a good eye. He wouldn’t bring you here if he didn’t see hope in you.” The woman’s
eyes closed, weariness etched on her face. Maja thought for a beat before seeking out Quentin. “I’m loaded. Should I get a doc
to check on her?” Quentin looked down, a bitter twist to his mouth. “No need. We both know she’s just biding her time.” Maja let
the subject drop, her gaze landing on the kids without decent shoes, relishing leftovers as if they were gourmet feasts. After a
few seconds of silence, she headed for the door. “Maja, where are you off to?” “Just need some air.” She hopped into a car, hit
up the local mall, and returned with a truckload of goods. “Quentin, give me a hand with this stuff.” The kids were all patches and
hand-me-downs; Quentin was doing his best, but with school and the meager wages on Outer Island, his best was stretched
thin. She’d bought a truck’s worth of essentials, snacks, clothes, and shoes. When Quentin saw the haul, he froze, unable to
fathom the cost. Maja checked her wristwatch, “There’s two more trucks of furniture coming.” This was beyond Quentin’s wildest
dreams. His brain took a while to reboot before he reached out to help, his eyes downturned. “Thanks,” he murmured. Just as he
spoke, a sleek car pulled up, its window rolling down to reveal a smug face.
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