[ Of course he knows. He always knows. Without fail, he sees straight through her carefully painted veneer. Lydia turns her face away stubbornly, swallowing down the look of distress. ]

It doesn’t work like that.

[ The Veil has been around for hundreds of years — probably more — and as far as any records indicate, no one has ever gone back through. A couple of teenagers won’t suddenly be the exception. It’s easier to couch her frustrations in logical fallacies than in the fact that it burns her to know she’s not going to see Allison ever again. ]

And I didn’t say it would make her matter less, but we can’t very well paint each others’ nails and study French together when she’s in another dimension. She’ll make new friends.