I cleared my throat. "So . . . get any good info from that thing?"

 

"Too much," she said. "Daedalus had so many ideas, I could spend fifty years

just trying to figure them all out."

 

"Yeah," I muttered. "That would be fun."

 

She shuffled her papers — mostly drawings of buildings and a bunch of

handwritten notes. I knew she wanted to be an architect someday, but I'd learned

the hard way not to ask what she was working on.

 

She'd start talking about angles and load-bearing joints until my eyes glazed

over.

 

"You know ..." She brushed her hair behind her ear, like she does when she's

nervous. "This whole thing with Beckendorf and Silena. It kind of makes you

think. About . . . what's important. About losing people who are important."

 

I nodded. My brain started seizing on little random details, like the fact that

she was still wearing those silver owl earrings from her dad, who was this

brainiac military history professor in San Francisco.

 

"Um, yeah," I stammered. "Like ... is everything cool with your family?"

 

Okay, really stupid question, but hey, I was nervous.