Jen’s father hesitated, then pulled on the heavy door. They walked down a long hallway. The ceiling was so far away, Luke thought he could have stood his entire family on his shoulders — one on top of the other, Dad and Mother and Matthew and Mark — and the highest one still would barely touch. The walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with old paintings of people in costumes Luke had never seen outside of books.

Of course, there was very little he’d ever seen outside of books.

He tried not to stare, because if he really were Lee, surely everything would look familiar and ordinary. But that was hard to remember. They passed a classroom where dozens of boys sat in orderly rows, everyone facing away from the door. Luke gawked for so long that he practically began walking backwards. He’d known there were a lot of people in the world, but he’d never been able to imagine so many all in one place at the same time. Were any of them shadow children with fake identities, like Luke?

Jen’s father clapped a hand on his shoulder, turning him around.

“Ah, here’s the headmaster’s office,” Mr. Talbot said heartily. “Just what we were looking for.”

Luke nodded, still mute, and followed him through a tall doorway.

A woman sitting behind a mammoth wood desk turned their way She took one look at Luke and asked, “New boy?”

“Lee Grant,” Jen’s father said. “I spoke with the master about him last night.”

“It’s the middle of the semester, you know,” she said warningly. “Unless he’s very well prepared, he shan’t catch up, and might have to repeat

“That won’t be a problem,” Mr. Talbot assured her. Luke was glad he didn’t have to speak for himself. He knew he wasn’t well prepared. He wasn’t prepared for anything.

The woman was already reaching for files and papers.

“His parents faxed in his medical information and his insurance standing and his academic records last night,” she said. “But someone needs to sign these—”