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him for a second. But he let it drop.
    â€œWelcome to Chincoteague,” he said to Jafney.
    â€œYeeee!” She jumped up and down, shrieking and clapping her hands.
    Georgie, who was standing a mere foot away, put her fingers in her ears and mouthed, What the blark? at me.
    â€œJafney’s here about her chip,” I said. “Is your dad around?”
    â€œNo,” said Georgie, “but I’m sure he’ll be back soon if that’s the reason she’s here.”
    I still didn’t understand it, how unchipped Shifters were naturally called to where they were supposed to be. Finn called it fate. Charlotte called it providence. Whatever it was, I didn’t like to overanalyze it.
    Talking about time with a Shifter is a bit like discussing water with a fish. It’s so woven into our being that it’s simultaneously everything and nothing to us.
    â€œThis is just soooooo amazing. I can’t believe I’m really doing this.” Jafney let out another squeak as she pulled her shirt up around her chest to wring some of the water out, revealing a taut tummy and curvy hips. She stretched her arms in a catlike pose above her head, tugging the shirt even higher, before smoothing it back down.
    I wrapped my arms around my own torso. Charlotte’s scrumptious cooking and my mom’s renewed love language of Rocky Road brownies had packed on their share of a few extra pounds. Oh, and those Girl Scout cookies that Georgie kept stashed in her closet weren’t doing my butt any favors either. (How have those gone extinct and we still have kelp nuggets?) Finn claimed that he liked me with some meat on my bones, especially since I’d been confined to such a restrictive diet at the Institute for so long. I liked my body, but that didn’t stop me from feeling self-conscious next to this Grecian goddess.
    Jafney dawdled back and forth through the sand as we headed up the beach. The way she zigzagged, she looked like she was in a drunken stupor or sleepwalking.
    â€œWhat a Fruit Loop,” whispered Georgie in my ear.
    â€œCut her some slack,” I said.
    It sounded like Jafney’s life had been anything but easy so far. I could relate to that. And for all I knew, we’d become close. It’s not like there were a lot of unchipped Shifters my age running around. I could use all the friendly faces I could get.
    We made our way up to the house. It was about five times the size of my own and filled with pricey furniture. They could afford it—Finn’s dad had had uncommonly lucky hunches in all his investments over the years. Their Haven beacon glimmered green in the foyer, casting its light on the Mastersons’ art collection that crossed the line from pricey to priceless. The Beacon was an old tradition to welcome Shifters into the safety of their home. The Mastersons, however, chose to stretch the purpose of the Haven Society to open their doors to anyone in need.
    In true Charlotte fashion, Finn’s mom squawked for a minute, then tossed three more plates on the table and wrapped bacon around random leftovers from the refrigerator. Somehow, it came out a gourmet feast.
    We bobbed our heads as Charlotte led us in grace, and a tenor voice that wasn’t Finn’s added a final, “Amen.”
    â€œWelcome home, John.” Charlotte tossed Finn’s dad a cloth napkin and hopped up to grab him a plate like he hadn’t just appeared out of nothingness. Jafney was the only one who startled at his sudden appearance.
    Finn bore a strong resemblance to his father, with their square jaws and tall, lean physiques. But as Charlotte shook her fiery auburn hair over her shoulder, there was no doubt that Finn had inherited an equal number of genes from her.
    â€œBack from anywhere interesting?” I asked John.
    â€œBest not to talk shop at the table,” said John, his polite way of letting us know he’d been performing surgeries during a