by Barb Han
I blame test grades. I tug down the sleeve of my sweater, the last gift from my brother, over the burn mark covering my left forearm. No matter how hot the weather, I always wear long sleeves. The couple who sponsors me almost canceled their application when they saw my arm. I guess they thought it was some kind of deformity, but it’s just a burn. Like I said, people freak out over the smallest imperfections.
This whole Sponsored program is new. I’m part of the initial group of five who started together freshman year. Our numbers have grown to fourteen. Thirteen, now that Lillian is gone.
“Oh, crap, he’s walking over here,” Adalynn says with huge blue eyes that look like a bug’s on steroids. “Told you he likes you.”
“Whatever you do, don’t leave me.” I turn to glance down the hall to see if she’s playing some kind of twisted joke. I swear I can feel my heart pounding in my throat when I see him making a beeline in my direction. His eyes lock onto mine.
I might throw up.
His hair parts to one side, and it feathers effortlessly. His hair is a little longer than the school dress code allows, but his family has plenty of money to smooth over that little road bump. For most people, the prep school is strict. Not so much for Legacies. And especially not for Caius Fitch. He’s different.
If rich had a galaxy, his family would be a comet soaring far above it. But it’s more than that. He’s the only Legacy who ever smiles at me in the hallway. We had English together last year. He didn’t speak up much, but his answers were always thoughtful when he did, not like the others who were more interested in getting a laugh than in paying attention. I was a teacher’s assistant, and there were a few times he hung around after class like he was waiting to talk to me after I finished erasing the chalkboards and tidying up the room, but he never did.
He’s been early to pick up his younger sister for the past few weeks, and I’ve seen him in the halls of the dance building. If he’s coming this way, he must want something. Maybe he saw my grade and wants to hire me for tutoring. I get requests like that all the time.
I half expect him to duck into a hallway before he reaches me. He doesn’t. And now I panic. At least my friend is still here.
“Adal—” I stop mid-word. She’s gone. The hall is almost empty. Maybe Caius will walk right past me.
He doesn’t. I turn at the last minute and open my locker again. I already have everything I need, except a good diversion.
Mr. Popular stops right next to me and swings his elbow up to rest on the wall. He’s tall for seventeen and hot in a casual, effortless way. I’d say he’s at least six foot one, maybe two. He’s standing so close that I can see his perfectly straight, white teeth when he smiles, and my heart free falls at the same time a kaleidoscope of butterflies releases in my stomach.
“You were pretty amazing just now.”
My cheeks burn. I tug at the hem of my sweater at the point where two corners meet at my hip. I roll it between my thumb and forefinger. I picked up the nervous tick as a kid and have never been able to break it. Touching the material makes me feel an unexplainable connection to my twin. I force myself to stop.
“I saw you practice last night, too. You’re talented.”
“You were at school that late?” I didn’t start until ten. Sponsored kids are always assigned the crappy times, but I like taking the last slot. I like the privacy. Kids are gone. Faculty has long since left the building. The dance room is the one place I can lose myself and let go. All the voices quiet inside my head, and I let the music flow through me—crown to toe—guiding every movement without overthinking it. This is one of the rare times my brain actually shuts off.
“Had to pick up my sister.” He gives a quick nod and a half smile, which shows a dimple on his right cheek. He has blue eyes, too, only they’re darker than Adalynn’s. His are a piercing, ash-blue shade.
“Oh, right.” I pretend that I forgot Carina is in the same program. Juniors never mix with freshmen. There’s an unwritten rule that everyone sticks to their own grade. At least it makes sense to me why her brother is talking to me now. His next question will be what I’d charge to work with his sister. Maybe that’s why he’s been hanging around more lately. I should be relieved, but I’m not. I’m disappointed.
“You want to grab something to eat after school?” He smiles, and that dimple winks at me.
I’m not sure if I heard him right.
“Sorry. Can’t. I’m on a meal plan.” I answer a little too quickly. My nerves are getting the best of me. It’s true, though. All my meals are provided by my school as part of my sponsorship. I have to eat at the cafeteria so my diet can be monitored.
“Surely they won’t mind one night,” he says, all cute and casual. He’s wrong.
“I don’t make the rules.” I shrug. I don’t dare say how much I can’t stand living in a fishbowl. The halls might be bare right now, but there are ears everywhere at Easton. Getting someone from another social group kicked out is sport for some Legacies, especially if it boosts their class rank. Since I’m in the running for Valedictorian, I’m sure most of the student body wants me gone.
“Then, we can eat in the cafeteria.” He’s smiling now. “I don’t care. As long as we sit together.”
A couple of Legacy girls walk by, and I can hear them whispering things like what’s he doing talking to her?
“No offense, but being seen with you isn’t exactly making me more popular,” I say before I think it through. That’s kind of a jerk move on my part. Before I can apologize, I’m looking at that dimple again, and warmth settles over me. I like Caius. But then, so does everyone. “Sorry. I just…what do you want?”
“Dinner.”
“I can’t.” I’m firm this time.
He leans toward me. “Why not take a risk? Come on, have dinner with me, Tori. One meal, and if you hate it, you can move to another table.”
My breath catches. He’s actually asking me on a date. There are a dozen protests running around in my head, mixed with disbelief. He lingers at the door when I practice sometimes, and there were those stolen looks last year in English. As for him lingering at the door, I convince myself that he’s just bored waiting for his sister. The few times we’ve spoken, I’m sure I said something stupid. And the latter? Sponsored kids are always in the spotlight. He was probably just curious. I left it at that.
“Okay.” I’m certain he can hear my heart hammering my ribs. “But I have to eat in the cafeteria.”
“Good.” He starts to leave and then stops. “And, Tori?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to look so stressed about having dinner with me later. You might hurt my feelings.” He tips his chin toward me with a wounded look. “I’m not an ax murderer. Promise.”
I break into a wide smile. What can I say? He’s popular for a reason.
The fifth bell rings. The tones are different for each one. Now, I’m late. I didn’t even hear the fourth.
“Uh, sure.” I try not to stare at him. The whites of his eyes are clear and bright, his irises the most intense shade of blue. He also has sandy-blond hair with perfect streaks of light brown. Legacies are always good looking, I remind myself.
“See you at six?”
“Yeah, six,” I parrot. History is in the next building. I tighten my grip on my AllinOne and hurry off.
All I can think is that his sister must need a lot of help if he’s willing to eat in the cafeteria. I’ve never seen a Legacy in there.
Out of nowhere, my AllinOne makes the sound of a frog croaking. Jax programmed my notification to be different again. I cover the speaker as I rush into class. A few heads turn toward me. Mrs. Randol is probably going to give me extra homework for being late. She’s looking down, typing, so I quickly slide into my seat as I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
I set my AllinOne down in front of me and then tug at
the corners so it expands to a decent size. There’s a message from Jax. I touch the keyboard function and expand it so I can take notes. I shrink his message notification and move it to another file for later because Mrs. Randol can project whatever I open in class onto the white wall behind her, where everyone will be able to view it. Whatever my best friend has to say can wait. He also knows that I’m in History because he’s sitting in the row in front of me.
He turns around and gives me one of those where’ve-you-been looks. I ignore him and open the file marked, The Rise of Industrialization, fighting back a yawn. We keep everything on our AllinOnes now. This place hasn’t used books since becoming its own country.
Adalynn turns and winks at me, and from her expression, she’s dying for me to tell her what Mr. Popular said. She’s also smart enough not to message me and ask. Out of the corner of my eye, Jax is motioning to get my attention. If he gets me into trouble…
“Jaxon Donovan, what’s that in your hand?” Mrs. Randol’s voice is high-pitched and angry. Not a good sign. Her gaze bounces from Jax to me. Her lips are thin.
“Nothing, Mrs. Randol,” he says a little too innocently.
My AllinOne gets real interesting to me about now.
“Mr. Donovan, you may approach,” she says in that all-business tone.
Jax pushes off his table to stand, letting the wadded-up piece of paper fall from his hand in a swift, smooth motion. The person in the row in front of him perfectly blocks Mrs. Randol’s view.
I think he might actually pull it off, and relief washes through me.
Caius’s best friend, Rhys, sits on the other side of Jax. Or at least they used to be tight. They’re never together anymore. Caius sticks to himself mostly. Rhys bends down to pick up the paper. I expect him to read it, but he doesn’t. He holds it up high in the air and waves it around. “I believe you dropped something, Mr. Donovan.”
His actions make me even more leery about having dinner with a Legacy.
Mrs. Randol glares at Jax.
I put my head down on the table, wishing I could disappear. I feel bad for him, but he’s not Sponsored like me. Not all the teachers are on board with the program, and I’ve never had a good impression of Mrs. Randol. I’m not certain if she looks at me with disdain or pity. She’s the only teacher who cares if I end up in trouble or not. If I were the one getting caught, the punishment would be a lot worse.
Rhys takes the paper to Mrs. Randol, who immediately opens it and smooths it out on her tabletop. I swear she goes sheet-white when she reads it. She folds it twice and then rips it up six different ways. Then she does something strange. She makes a pile of torn pieces, scoops them up, and then stuffs them into her briefcase.
Why doesn’t she throw them in the trash?
She quickly recovers her earlier demeanor, all business, as she sends Rhys back to his seat and Jax to the Headmaster, Mr. Davidson.
I think she’s about to call me out, too. She doesn’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the class. My heart is like a hammer in my chest and my ribs hurt by the time the dismissal bell sounds almost two hours later. I half expect Mrs. Randol to call my name to stay after class, but she doesn’t.
I can’t wait to get to my locker and check for the message on my AllinOne. Adalynn calls for me to wait up for her. I don’t, though, because I want privacy when I read the message.
My locker is open in a flash, and I place my AllinOne inside to shield it from wandering eyes. I stand as close to the opening as I can and expand my device until the screen is big enough to see clearly. I look in my private folder, and all I hear is a whoosh in my ears.
The message from Jax is gone.
Chapter Two
“I thought you were going to wait for me after class.” Adalynn sounds annoyed.
I shoot her an apologetic look. It’s half-hearted because I could remind her that she was the one who’d abandoned me with Caius. Now, I’m glad she did because I’m still trying to figure out what he wants. After Rhys’s stunt in class, I’m thinking twice about dinner.
“Speaking of class, what was that all about with Jax?”
“What?” She looks at me blankly.
I go ahead and spell it out for her. “Did you see Mrs. Randol’s face when she read his note?”
Adalynn shrugs; her ponytail swishes. “Guess I wasn’t paying much attention.”
I look across the hallway at my buddy’s locker. “Where is he?”
“You know how it is with Jax. He probably wrote something inappropriate, and now he’s getting chewed out by Davidson. That’s something a headmaster actually does,” she says with emphasis on the last two words. She scrunches up her face like she drove home her point and snaps the band on her wrist.
I don’t respond.
“Besides, I don’t want to think about him.” She elbows me a little hard.
“Ouch,” I say. She’s gotten a little too good with that right elbow.
“Sorry. Occupational hazard.” She shoots a crooked Adalynn smile. “Are you ever going to tell me what Caius Fitch wanted? I had a feeling he likes you.”
I turn to face my locker so she doesn’t see my cheeks flame. “Oh, you know, nothing important. Probably wants to hire me to take his tests or something.”
“Don’t even dodge my question.” She jabs another elbow.
“That hurts,” I say in a lame effort to buy time to think of something to satisfy her. My brain is slow. I’m off today. Besides, I’m worried about Jax.
An impatient noise rips from Adalynn’s throat. “Come on. Tell me everything he said.”
“I was being honest before. I don’t have the first idea what he wants.” My cheeks burn. I duck, chin to chest, praying she won’t see my reaction. “And I care more about what’s happening to my friend”—I motion toward his locker—“than what some spoiled Legacy kid wants to chat me up about.”
I know I probably poured it on a little too thick when Adalynn grunts and slams her locker shut.
“Did he ask you out?”
She’s onto me.
“No. Of course not,” I say as evenly as I can.
She gives me the eye, but I deflect.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him looking at you. You seriously mean he didn’t tell you what he wants?”
I’m thankful the bell rings.
“No idea. Sorry.”
“Fine. Then I want to be the first to know when you figure it out.” She grunts again. “And as far as Jax goes, don’t even stress. When is he not in trouble? He’ll find a way out. Like last month when he activated the emergency alert drill while attempting to overclock his AllinOne. The darn thing practically exploded in the hallway, and yet he managed to worm his way out of getting kicked out.”
She has a point. “I thought for sure he’d get the boot for that one.”
“Then, there was the time he tripped the fire alarm because he forgot to study for the chemistry test and needed a reason for class to be canceled.”
“He got in a lot of trouble for that one.” This time, I take his side since he’s not here to defend himself.
“And yet he’s still here.” More Adalynn logic, and she’s actually making sense. Jax is made of Teflon.
“I’m still keeping my eye on Davidson. Nightmare or not, I don’t trust him.” I’m grateful we’re back to easy conversation.
“You heading to Tilly’s class today?”
I hold up my device. “Nap pod before lunch. Apparently, I’m not getting enough rest, so I’m doing my Calculus lessons at night.” I track everything. Every. Thing. I have a special plug-in that monitors my heart rate and analyzes my sleep quality. Dr. Mangrove says that I can’t be the best if I don’t get my rest. Of course, he says the same thing to all the athletes.
Stressing about Jax isn’t going to help me sleep. And then th
ere’s the issue of my date with the most popular boy in school. I feel like canceling our dinner plans after the stunt his friend pulled in History. As far as Rhys goes, I want to punch him in the face.
“Wish I was allowed to do that,” Adalynn says, still talking about a nap.
“Yeah, it’s great to watch Tilly’s lecture right before I shut my eyes at night. Her face is the last thing I see as I’m going to sleep.”
“No wonder you’re having nightmares.” Adalynn shivers as she laughs at her joke. A look of pity streaks across her pale blue eyes. She’s thinking about the fact that she’ll be going home to be with her family while I sleep here with the other Sponsored kids. “At least you get to have class in your pajamas.”
“That does make it worthwhile.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and she laughs.
“See you tomorrow, then.” She has soccer for her last two periods, so Adalynn eats lunch with her coach and the rest of the soccer team in a special dining hall and then works on conditioning for the rest of the afternoon. Easton is fanatical about their athletes getting the right kinds of nutrients for their sport.
“Later.” I grab my dance bag from my locker and then head toward the nap shack—that’s what everyone calls the sleeping pods. I make my way toward Bilker Hall. Bilker, as in Rhys Bilker’s family. They’ve been educated here for six generations, and I’m certain that’s the reason Rhys is still here after the stunts he pulls.
I find an open egg-shaped pod. There are three dozen of them scattered around the hall. Anyone who has a free period can use them. There are probably a few more athletes like me, a few Brains, too. I’ve never seen a Legacy in one and especially not Rhys even though his family’s name is plastered all over the hallway.
I crawl into the pod and pull down the flex door, shutting out the sunlight from the chilly hallway. We’re well into spring, and yet the weather is still cold outside. By the peak of the afternoon, we’re lucky if the temps hit sixty-five degrees. The new age eggs are supposed to represent the future. Like everything at Easton, every detail has been carefully planned and executed.
