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part of the Hamilton family tradition in late October as turkey was on Thanksgiving. Helen noticed that Jerry had even made fresh whipped cream to put on top, and that made her feel so guilty she could barely look at him. He was worried about her.
    “Finally! What were you doing up there? Quilting?” Jerry joked, trying to make light of his worry, as he looked her up and down.
    For a moment, his eyes widened with fear and his lips pressed together in a harsh line, then he turned back to the stove and started serving. Jerry wasn’t a nag, but Helen had gotten skinny over the past three weeks—really scary skinny—and this humongous breakfast was his way of trying to remedy that without having to go into a big, boring lecture. Helen loved the way her dad handled stuff. He didn’t pester her the way other parents would if they saw their daughter turn into a scarecrow, but he still cared enough to try to do something about it.
    Helen tried to smile bravely at her dad, took a plate, and started stuffing the food down her throat. Everything tasted like sawdust, but she pushed the calories in, anyway. The last thing Helen wanted was to make her dad anxious about her health, although to be honest, even she was starting to feel a bit worried.
    She healed quickly from any overt injury she sustained in the Underworld, but every day she felt weaker. Still, she had no choice—she had to keep going until she found the Furies, no matter how ill the Underworld was making her. She’d made a promise. Even if Lucas hated her now, she would fulfill it.
    “You have to chew bacon, Lennie,” her dad said sarcastically. “It doesn’t just dissolve in your mouth.”
    “Is that how it works?” Realizing she had been sitting there stock-still, she forced herself to act normal and crack a joke. “Now he tells me.”
    While her dad chuckled, she wrenched her thoughts away from Lucas and considered all the homework she hadn’t done. She hadn’t even finished reading the Odyssey yet, not because she didn’t want to read it, but because she hadn’t had time.
    It seemed like everything on Helen’s to-do list needed to be done yesterday. On top of that, her favorite teacher, Hergie, kept trying to pressure her into joining the AP classes. Like she needed to expand her reading list.
    Claire cruised up the driveway in the new hybrid car her parents had bought her and yelled, “Honk-honk!” out the window rather than actually honking the horn. As Jerry tried, and failed, not to hover, Helen stuffed the remaining pancake down her throat, nearly choked, and ran out the door with her shoelaces still untied.
    She hurried down the steps, taking a glance back at the widow’s walk on her roof, but she knew it would be empty.
    Lucas had made it painfully clear to Helen that he would not sit on her widow’s walk again. She didn’t know why she bothered to look up there, except that she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
    “Button your coat, it’s cold out,” Claire admonished as soon as Helen got in the car. “Lennie? You’re a frigging mess,” she continued as she put the car in gear.
    “Ah . . . good morning?” Helen said with wide eyes. Claire had been Helen’s best friend since birth, and was therefore entitled to yell at Helen whenever she felt like it. But did she have to start so early? Helen opened her mouth to explain, but Claire would not be deterred.
    “Your clothes are falling off your body, your nails are bitten down to nothing, and your lips are chapped,” Claire ranted, plowing right through Helen’s weak protests as she tore out of the driveway. “And the bags under your eyes are so god-awful it looks like someone punched you in the face! Are you even attempting to take care of yourself?”
    “Yes, I’m trying,” Helen sputtered, still trying to button up the front of her coat, which had suddenly become harder to figure out than Chinese algebra. She gave up on the buttons and faced Claire, throwing up her hands in