“No, actually, I’m not,” I tell her. Lila crosses her arms. She’s not trying to play nice, and neither am I.

“He’s not here,” Lila tells me before I’ve said another word. She jerks her head toward the gate that is slamming shut behind her. “Noah’s the reason you’re here, right?”

That’s when I realize that I’m actually on the corner in front of the Israeli embassy. It sits at the intersection of two of the busiest streets in Valancia but Lila doesn’t care about that.

“Our dad is playing in some charity football tournament and he’s making Noah play, too.”

“Noah plays soccer?” I ask, genuinely stunned.

Lila scoffs at my ignorance. “It’s football,” she tells me. “And everybody knows my brother plays. It’s the one thing he’s halfway decent at. So, like I said, my brother is busy.”

“Uh … okay.”

Megan is coming down the street, and when she sees me and Lila together, for a split second it looks like she wants to run. Save herself. And I can’t say I blame her.

“Hi, Megan,” I tell her. We haven’t spoken since the day she broke into Ms. Chancellor’s computer for me.

“Is everything okay?” Megan asks.

Lila laughs.

“I’m fine,” I say. Alexei and his father are already far up the hill, climbing toward the palace. “In fact, I was just going.”

“Not so fast,” Lila tells me. She steps onto the sidewalk, blocking my path. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Whoa. You have been meaning to talk to me. Oh my gosh!” I gush with mock enthusiasm. “I’ve been hoping this day would come. Are we going to be BFFs? Because I’d really love to be your BFF. That last F is for forever!” I add with a wink and a whisper.

“Does anyone think you’re as funny as you think you are?” Lila asks.

“That depends. Does anyone ever think you have as much power as you think you have?”

“Listen.” Lila draws a deep breath, as if calling a temporary truce. She steps slightly closer, lowering her voice and giving more power to her words. “You need to stay away from my brother.”

“The brother you hate?” I ask.

“The brother who had enough trouble before you showed up.”

“What kind of trouble did Noah have?” I ask. The thought is almost laughable.

“He’s better off without you,” Lila says, ignoring my question. “He doesn’t need you. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“I’m serious,” Lila says. “He doesn’t need you dragging him down with you when you fall.” Lila slowly looks me up and down. I can feel the weight of her stare, of the ultimate truth in her words as she says, “Because people like you always fall.”

It’s starting to rain, and Lila doesn’t want to get wet. “Come on, Megan,” she snaps, and starts away. But for a split second, Megan doesn’t move. For a split second it seems like Megan doesn’t want to.

I think about the little girl who used to come over with her Barbies, try to reconcile her against the computer genius who just did me maybe the biggest favor of my life. And, finally, I remember the look in Megan’s eyes when she told me to be careful. But whatever moments Megan and I might have shared, they are long over.

“Megan!” Lila shouts.

Megan follows.

I stand for a long time, listening to the clicking of their heels against the cobblestones. They sound like very tiny horses, disappearing into the distance.

Maybe Lila looks back. Maybe she thinks she’s really gotten me, burned me with her words, and that is why I am frozen where I stand.

But she can’t see what I see.

The cobblestones are ancient. Every tourist to ever visit Adria has heard about the Romans and the Mongols, the Crusaders and the Turks. They all came to Adria. They all came and saw and conquered. And fell.

Lila was right about that part. Eventually, everybody falls.

It’s starting to pour, and water gushes from the gutters, filling the edges of the street. I watch it roll down the hill, presumably out to sea.

I’m still standing there, staring at the ground. But the strangest thing is happening. The water doesn’t run straight. In fact, there is a place where the water doesn’t run at all. It spirals. Like a tiny whirlpool in the center of the street. The stones there aren’t like the others. The pattern is different. In the center stone there is an emblem. I reach down through the cold water and trace it, knowing in my gut that I’ve seen something like it before.

Lila is right. We all fall down.

And down.

There’s laughter on the street behind me. A woman is holding an umbrella with one hand and a little girl’s arm with the other. Together, they are running through the rain. “Hurry, Gracie!” she says as the little girl jumps into a puddle.

My eyes fill with tears, and I blink once. Twice.

When I see the Scarred Man from the corner of my eye I’m not entirely sure that I’m not dreaming. But no, I decide, he is very, very real. And in that moment I forget all about Lila and Megan, Alexei and his father. There is only one thing on my mind as the Scarred Man walks without an umbrella, his collar turned up, practically racing up the hill. Wherever he’s going, he’s in a hurry. So I do what any self-respecting mentally unbalanced teenager would do.

I follow him.

I run as fast as I dare on the wet, uneven streets. Once I actually slip but catch myself before I land face-first on the sidewalk. Shopkeepers are pulling in their displays. People huddle under the awnings of the outdoor cafés. On the hop-on-hop-off buses, everyone is rushing to hop on and nobody sits on the upper deck.

Everyone is clinging to warmth and dryness. Everyone except the wild American teenager who is running as fast as she can down Embassy Row. My hair clings to my face. My T-shirt clings to me, cold and maybe in slightly scandalous ways. I don’t care. I don’t stop. I just keep running up the winding street.

The Scarred Man is moving quickly, even in the rain. I should stand out more than usual, but it’s like there is a curtain of fog and water between us. He isn’t worried about his tail.

He walks down a narrow alley I’ve never seen before, and I stay carefully back. I won’t be cornered. I won’t be seen. I won’t be defeated.