“Everyone likes you, I bet,” he said. “Everyone likes bored, pretty girls. Your classmates and your teachers, I’m sure they all look at you and see”—he waved a hand, smiling a little—“whichever fearless hero used to drive them wild. The new girl who ignored them, the most gorgeous golden boy. You are attractive because you can be anyone or anything . . . because you are nothing. You are empty. Or at least, you want to be empty.” He touched the paper again. “That’s what this transcript says. You are trying to disappear, whish, into smoke. And if you’re not careful, you will succeed.”
