Quince reaches me, and instead of wrapping me in a hug like I expect, he reaches for my hair. I try to swim back, away from the near-desperate look in his eyes, afraid that he’s going to fail the test.He tugs something from my hair.I look down and see a Padina antillarum—a beautiful little seaweed shaped like ginkgo leaves—in his hand. And it’s glowing.“You,” he says with an explosive grin. “You are the sixteenth object.
-Tera Lynn Childs
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