TWO
Craike left after that, leaving me alone in the room to stew. He never told me explicitly that I made it, so I have no idea if I passed or if I have to go back to my cell to wait until another girl is ready. On one hand, he seemed pleased with my answers, but he also saw right through some of my lies. Does he know how fake I am? He definitely won’t send me out if he knows. My interview replays in my mind, with each repeat narrowing in on my more cringeworthy lines. I had one shot and I screwed it up.
With a whoosh, the door slides open and a tall girl with straight blond hair enters. She’s dressed in an oversized blue flannel shirt, torn black jeans, and white sneakers. In her hands is a white iPhone, which must be showing something fascinating as she’s staring at it intently. Under one arm is a pile of neatly folded clothes. Men’s clothes.
She places the pile on the table. “Get dressed.”
“Thanks.” I stand and grab the shirt. It’s a white dress shirt and the material is soft and silky. I put it on. It fits tight against my body, hugging my shoulders and tapering in at my waist.
“It’s not just for you. It’s hard to work when I’m distracted by …” She gestures toward me with one hand as her voice trails off. I’m not sure if she’s talking about my abs or my crotch.
“Thank you?” I say as I button up the second button. “It’s nice to know I can be a distraction.” I pull the pants, gray slacks, up over my hips and fasten the silver clasp. Then I sit down. “Maybe it means I have a shot after all.”
She finally looks up from her phone. “Here’s hoping. Now that’s done, I’d like to do this.”
She raises her hand, offering me a high five.
I slap her hand, and she beams.
“Congrats, man!” she says. “You made it through! That’s a big deal. Oh, and I should introduce myself. I’m Kaylee, your coach.”
“My what?”
“Your coach. I’m here to give you love advice, if you need it, that is—and trust me, you probably do. I’m your own personal relationship counselor. And, luckily for you, I’m the best at what I do.”
“And that is?”
“Making important young women fall in love with fakes like you. I’ll be with you the entire time, telling you what to say, giving instructions on how to act, that sort of thing. When they transform you, a device like this”—she taps on the table, which creates a hologram of a silver ball about the size of a pea—“will be injected behind your ear. It lets us keep track of you, plus, it’ll allow us to communicate. And don’t worry, this isn’t the Suicide Squad, it’s not a bomb to stop you if you go AWOL. We have Stalkers for that. This little beauty is mainly so I can make sure you don’t say the wrong thing. During a lot of the important conversations you’ll have with your Chosen, I tell you what to say. On those days, you’re just my pretty puppet. Sound good?”
I cross my arms over my chest. Already the silky material feels cold.
“It sounds perfect.”
“Great! And it’s not like I’m in your head all the time, you will get to have some time alone with her. I’m only there for the big moments—first dates, first kisses, that sort of thing. The quiet moments are yours. Also, I’m the person you can talk to if you want a set piece. You know, a dangerous event or something that dramatically flings her into your arms. I’ve seen a Chosen totally change her mind about a guy because of a well-timed set piece. Now, don’t you want to see who you’ve been assigned to?”
A.K.A. the girl who decides if I live or die.
“I sure do!”
“Great! Isn’t this exciting? You’re about to see the girl you could spend the rest of your life with.”
Well, in that case, I really hope she’s beautiful. Why is she showing me this? It’s not like it changes anything.
She swipes her hand to the right, and the tiny silver device zooms away and is replaced by a blue-tinted hologram of a girl. She’s looking up at something in the distance. Her face is nondescript, pretty in a way that doesn’t stand out, aside from the cute little freckles on her nose. Her brown hair is tied back into a ponytail.
She’s not a supermodel or anything, and for that I’m grateful. She looks like a nice, normal girl.
A girl who would choose a Nice boy.
“Her name is Juliet. She’s been marked as important ever since she was five years old, when she aced her Mensa test. We’ve monitored her ever since. When she was seven, she started inventing, producing things that people with graduate degrees would struggle with. Her brain, it … it operates in a way that’s so far ahead of everyone else. The world’s top universities have been trying for years to get her to enroll with them, but she’s rejected them all because she wants to have a normal high school experience. She’s one of a tiny handful of people in the entire world who we believe have a higher than ninety-seven percent chance of reaching the top of their chosen field. Her inventions will shape the lives of every single person on earth one day. Or, at least, that’s what the head honchos here think.”
I tilt my head to the side and look at the hologram of Juliet again. “Why are you sending us in now?”
“She’s only just started being interested in boys, as proved by a series of, well, blunt Google searches. We expect her to make her choice before she leaves for college.”
I keep eyeing the shimmering hologram of Juliet. Of the person I must make fall in love with me.
“If you know so much about her, why are you assigning her two guys?” I ask. “Wouldn’t it be easier to create the perfect guy for her? Like a scientist or something?”
Kaylee’s smile falters. “I want you to promise me something, okay? Don’t talk like that in front of Mr. Craike. He straight up doesn’t like people who ask questions, and trust me, if he doesn’t like you you’re screwed. But it’s a legitimate question, so I’ll answer it. Sending in two guys is much more effective than sending a guy on his own. One of the reasons is that it forces her to make her choice sooner; being in demand has that consequence. The second reason is that they tried sending in Solos and, well, it didn’t work that well. They made one perfect guy for each girl, like a science whiz for Juliet, and you know what happened?”
“No idea.”
“The Chosen ignored the Love Interest and fell for some random person in her class. This baffled the scientists, but it made perfect sense to me. I never fall for anyone predictable; it surprises me every single time. Seriously, I fall for the worst guys. So having two guys in the running as opposed to one makes sense because it increases our odds. Now, do you have any more questions? After the surgery our conversations will be monitored, so I won’t be able to be as honest with you as I can be right now.”
I pause for a second, thinking it over. This isn’t an opportunity I can afford to waste.