Neal wakes up in the bed in his room on deck five. He groans, curling up under too-small blankets, the familiar scents of the space disorienting in the middle of a pounding headache.

He squints into the room, still feeling high, though not in a good way.

And there's Malcolm, settled against the opposite wall, legs crossed, paging through an advanced algebra notebook that's several grades ahead of anything Danny Brooks should seemingly be working on. It's equal parts filled out and full of drawings.