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“You’re not funny.”

He smiles. “I know what will take your mind off the lockdown.”

“A lobotomy?”

“That would take your mind off everything.” He crosses the room, motioning for me to follow. He pulls open the top drawer of a dresser near his bed and grabs for something with his back to me, and then swirls around with a flourish of his hand, revealing a silver box tied closed with a purple bow. “Your birthday present.”

I hold out my hand and he drops the box in my palm. “You didn’t have to buy me a present.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t get to give it to you at your party. And I didn’t buy it. I made it.”

“Oh?”

His crooked smile makes me smile. He’s right. My mind is officially off the topic of the lockdown. I untie the ribbon and lift the lid—but his hand is on top of mine with supernatural speed, holding it closed.

“I have a disclaimer.” He gnaws on his bottom lip as I stare at the black hair tie on his wrist. “Before you open it, you need to know that it’s totally not practical and actually, it kind of sucks.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You’re giving me a sucky present?”

“It is absolutely sucky, but it was my first invention.” The way he lingers on the word first makes me feel like he’s a part of an inside joke I don’t know about. “You remember, right?”

I shake my head.

“You don’t? Really? You have to remember.” He stumbles over his words, dragging a hand through his hair while shaking his head. With a shrug, he takes his hand off the box.

With the box free, I pull it to my chest. “Guess I only remember important things,” I say with a smirk, wrapping my fingers around the lid.

“You know, I’ve heard stories about your selfishness.” His words catch me off guard. I drop my gaze from the silver box and look at him, eyebrows raised. His eyes squint in a mock glare. “But this is the first I’ve seen of it.”

“I’m not selfish. Who told you that?”

He closes an invisible zipper on his mouth. “Doesn’t matter. I’m crushed though, truly.” He clenches his chest and I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

I cross my arms, also in mock annoyance. At least, I think we’re just messing with each other. Friendly sarcasm and all that. “I can’t imagine why I’d bother remembering someone who quit Hero training.”

“Ouch.”

“Why did you quit?”

“That’s a story for another day.” He nudges the box. “Just open your stupid present.”

“With pleasure,” I say with exaggerated chivalry. I pull the lid off the box. Two silver rings rest on a pillow of foam. The metal bands are crudely hammered and polished. A glass disk rests in the center of each ring, etched with the King City crown logo. “I … er,” I say, slipping one of them on my index finger. “Thank you. Why are there two?”

“Let me explain.” He takes the other ring and slips it on his finger. “It’s a communication device. I can’t believe you don’t remember this. You made me promise to invent you something.”

“Seriously?” I don’t remember much of Evan except that he was the thin kid in Hero training who always had his nose in a book and typically ate lunch alone. I’m sure I talked to him at some point but I don’t exactly have a habit of asking nerdy guys to invent things for me.

He scratches the back of his neck. It’s not hard to see that he’s hiding disappointment. “My last day of Hero training. You said something to me, remember?”

I shake my head. “I was twelve. Why would I?”

His smile falters. “Never mind. Basically you called me a loser for dropping out of Hero training and said I better invent something to help the real Heroes do their job.”

I snort. “That was rude of me, I’m sorry.”

He ignores my apology, focusing on the ring on his index finger. “So this is the first thing I invented. It was supposed to be for Heroes, but it’s incredibly flawed and useless in the real world. Anyhow, I want you to have it. You inspired it.”

“So what does it do?” I twist my hand in front of my face, captivated by the shiny glass surface on my finger.