Nadia automatically projected a series of images onto his contacts—some holo-celebrities that Watt had always found cute; and a picture of Avery, from the one night they actually went out, when she was wearing that slinky mirrored gown and his incandescent behind her ear. Not helping, Nadia, he thought angrily, and she backed off, chastened. He wasn’t in the mood to think about Avery. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.
Watt looked up again at Cynthia, who was still standing there, hand on hip. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “Hey there, Leda.” He stood and moved aside as if to offer her a nonexistent chair. He managed to brush her arm as she maneuvered past him, his touch so slight that it could have been an accident. “You look fantastic tonight,” he whispered into her ear, as if imparting some delicious secret.
Cynthia was absolutely still, her mouth a silent O. Watt was quite certain that he saw her shiver a little. He smiled, pleased with himself. Nice to know I’ve still got it, right? he thought to Nadia, who sent him a sarcastic thumbs-up in response.
“Watt …” Cynthia said slowly, shaking her head a little. “Cut the seduction crap. I thought you wanted this girl to trust you, not jump into bed with you.”
That sounded like a trick question, so Watt didn’t answer it.
“Girls have feelings, Watt.” Cynthia looked down, toying with her purse, running its metal chain idly back and forth through her palms. “Feelings that can be easily hurt. You should remember that.”
“I’m sorry,” Watt said, not quite sure why he was apologizing, but feeling that it was needed. He sensed that there was some meaning behind her words, yet he couldn’t suss it out, and Nadia wasn’t offering anything.
Cynthia shook her head, and the moment passed. “I’m the one who should feel sorry for you. From everything you’ve told me, this isn’t going to be easy.”
She muttered a command to summon a waiter-bot from the museum’s indoor café, and one of them floated over, a menu projected on its holo-screen. Cynthia typed a few keystrokes.
“We’re gonna be here awhile,” she said, gesturing for Watt to lean forward and pay. “The least you can do is buy me some freaking cake.”
An hour and a half later, Watt felt as physically drained as if he’d been hacking all day. His very brain felt sore. But he had to admit, Nadia had been right to suggest that he ask Cynthia for advice. He wondered why he hadn’t ever asked for her help before.
She was sitting cross-legged on the bench, a few crumbs of red velvet cake on the plate between them. “Okay,” she said again, coaching him through the lines they’d practiced. “And what do you say next?”
Watt looked Cynthia straight in the eyes—intently, as if he could see into her very soul. “Leda. I hope you know you can trust me. After everything we’ve been through, you can tell me anything,” he said solemnly.
Cynthia was quiet for a moment, and Watt thought he’d screwed it up yet again, but then she was laughing. The “after everything we’ve been through” line had been her idea, and though Watt wasn’t quite sure about it, it did have a nice flourish. “God, I’m good,” Cynthia boasted. “My work here is done.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Watt said as his contacts lit up with an incoming flicker. Now he was the one laughing, “Leda just beat me to the punch.”
“Read me the message!” Cynthia demanded.
“‘Watt. I need you to be my date to the Hudson Conservancy Ball next weekend. Don’t bother giving me any excuses, we both know you already have the tux. You can pick me up at eight. The theme is Under the Sea.’”
“Wow. How romantic,” Cynthia said sarcastically.
“Why did it have to be another formal event?” Watt groaned, standing up and offering his friend a hand. “These people can’t be for real.”
“Please, Watt,” Cynthia said, her hand still in his, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. “Be careful with this girl.”
He nodded, knowing that she was right. Spending time with Leda was a dangerous gamble.
He might set himself free—or he might destroy life as he knew it.
RYLIN
RYLIN BIT BACK a curse as she turned another corner, only to end up exactly where she’d started. What the hell? she thought wildly. Why did all the halls in this school have to look completely identical?
She spun a slow circle, trying yet again to remember the map she’d seen on her school-issued tablet before it died. She’d forgotten to charge it, which was especially embarrassing given all the ways it could possibly charge—jacked into the wall, sitting out in the sun, even next to her skin, charging off the thermal energy of her own body heat. The school’s location-holos kept popping up before her at every corner and doorway, but they didn’t help; they just listed the names of each room, which had all been gifted by wealthy donors. Rylin didn’t care about the Fernandez Room, or the Mill-Vehra Dance Studio. She just needed to find the fencing piste, whatever the hell that was, because she was supposed to meet Leda there to film something for their holography project.
A group of boys appeared at the end of the hallway ahead, all of them sweaty and wearing shoulder pads. Rylin realized with a start that they were coming from hockey practice, and that one of them was Cord.
She started to backtrack, but it was too late—Cord had already looked up. He murmured something to the other boys and came to walk next to her.
“You okay?” he asked, amused. “You look a little lost.”
“I know exactly where I’m going, thank you very much,” Rylin replied neatly. She picked a random door on the right and started to push it open. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
The door swung inward, right into the middle of a small mat-lined room, where two guys were grappling with each other on the floor. They looked up at her, startled, and Rylin quickly stumbled back.
“Of course, you know exactly where you’re going,” Cord agreed, “which is to JV wrestling practice.”
Rylin threw her hands up. “Fine. I have no idea how to get to fencing. Can you tell me where it is?”
Cord started walking. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll take you there.”
“It’s okay, just tell me,” she insisted, but he’d already left her behind.
“You coming?” he called out over his shoulder. Rylin cursed and trotted to catch up.
They walked silently down a hallway, its walls lined with brass plaques commemorating the school’s athletic records. Light danced on the silver and bronze statues arranged in careful rows behind the flexiglass cases. Rylin kept her head fixed on the awards, reading the names inscribed there without processing them, trying desperately to look anywhere but at Cord. She found herself absurdly grateful that, for once, her hair hung straight and shining to her shoulders, instead of being in its usual low ponytail.
“So, fencing.” Cord’s voice seemed to echo in the empty hall. “You do know that you can’t actually hurt people with the épées, right? They’re lined with magnetic fields that make them impact-resistant.”
Rylin rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to impale anyone today, I promise.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said lightly. “Why are you going to fencing, then?”