“Leah, you have to show them your cloud drawings.” I freeze. “Oh, I mean—I didn’t bring any with me. They’re in my special cloud sketchbook—” “You can draw them right here,” Cyrus says, smiling still, his features positively angelic, concealing his diabolical schemes. It’s middle school all over again. He just wants to see me make a complete fool of myself and laugh at my expense. “It’s not like we’ll be getting off this train anytime soon.” “But I don’t have my art supplies,” I counter, smiling back through clenched teeth. Never mind the dormant mind-control powers. I’d give anything for the
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