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  Stroking the soft fur eases some of my tension about facing my sponsors at dinner. Maybe researchers are onto something with this stress reduction idea.

  “I’ll take care of him, Tori.” There’s so much promise in his voice that I don’t say anything else.

  A few quiet minutes pass, and this is the first time I’ve ever felt awkward around Jax. Since I can’t think of anything else to say, I hug the kitten. “You better take her back. The car should be here soon, and I should head to the front.”

  He uses his device to short circuit the system again and quickly takes the kitten. “Don’t worry about her. My family loves her. You know, in case you can’t take her later.”

  “She’s a great present, Jax. Thanks.” I look at my kitty. “And don’t you worry, I’ll find a way to keep her with me.”

  My best friend finally smiles, but it’s not the usual easy Jax smile that I’m used to. This one is strained, and I’m guessing the stress of college announcements is getting to everyone. The fact that he screwed up big-time right now is almost unthinkable to anyone except him. I don’t say it, but Adalynn’s right. He’ll bounce back from this. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s not just a Tech kid, he’s Legacy.

  “I just thought you should have something to look forward to in college,” he repeats.

  “We’re still planning on figuring out how to attend the same school, right?” The three of us have been planning that since we met. Is it weird that I suddenly wish Caius plans to apply to the same schools? I’m just hoping it’ll all work out somehow.

  “Just in case I don’t get in,” he says. So, I’m right. He’s distracted because he thinks his antics will get in the way of acceptance.

  “It’s too early to worry about that right now.” I’m lying, but he doesn’t call me out.

  “Yeah,” is all he says.

  “Jax, you’re going to get in. Kids have done much worse than pass a note in class. You’ll be fine.”

  “Happy Birthday, Tori,” he says. “You better get going.”

  I smile and wave. “Take care of my kitty.”

  Apparently, the positive effects of pet ownership don’t last long because my anxiety is at an all-time high by the time I slip inside the car waiting at the front of the Administration building. I’m breaking more rules than I ever have in my life, and it’s only a matter of time before my actions catch up with me. It has to. I’ve never been lucky, and that’s how I learned to work hard. I’ve never been able to rely on chance.

  The metal gates slowly open, and my pulse picks up as I lean against the leather seat. There’s normally a blacked-out window separating me from the driver. Not today. He’s a big man, middle-aged with a mustache that looks from a different time period. Jax sent me pictures of what people looked like in the seventies once. This guy’s mustache is dead-on.

  “They keep you pretty busy studying at that fancy school?” His attention is on the patch of road in front of us.

  “Finals are around the corner.” I want to grill him about what goes on outside of here. He has access to news and, even if I had free rein, the administration keeps track of my browsing history. Freshman year, I made the mistake of searching for information about my family. I got hauled into a panel to discuss whether or not I could handle it here at Easton and if they needed to bring in my sponsor to evaluate whether or not I was adjusting well enough to school. They put tighter controls on my access, too.

  I told them I was bored, not homesick, and needed to be in harder classes. It was all I could think of at the time, and it backfired big-time. I got assigned so much homework I barely saw the outside of my dorm room that first year. The panel, led by Headmaster Davidson, gave me a pass as long as I promised not to use my AllinOne for anything not directly related to schoolwork again.

  Jax has built firewalls and extra controls into it now to make it harder for them to monitor me. He might be one step ahead of them, but I’m afraid of what they’ll do to me when they catch up. I don’t risk making the same mistake twice and getting kicked out.

  I’ve gotten better at hiding things, which is probably the reason Caius and I haven’t been caught sneaking off campus already. We’ve been cautious, though. He can’t afford trouble any more than I can. It’s tricky enough that we’re dating. As far as I know, there’s no precedent for a Legacy to date a Sponsored.

  We’re on the opposite side of town but this area is similar to Easton with the tall trees and the modern houses blended in with traditional.

  My sponsors live in an estate. Their metal gate is a couple of feet shorter than the one at school. Is theirs live-wired, too? We haven’t made it halfway down the heavily treed path to their French country-inspired mansion before my heart breaks into a gallop.

  “Good luck in there.” The driver checks the rearview mirror, and his serious brown eyes catch mine. “You got enough on your mind with that fancy school.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble, and I’m confused. If I’m supposed to understand what any of that conversation meant, he has a surprise coming. I thank him anyway, slide out of the car, and then walk up to the door and ring the bell.

  Eleanor answers. She’s wearing a camel-colored pantsuit, and her hair is pulled off her face into a neat up-do. I imagine that her wheat-blond hair must be long, but she’s never worn it down in the few times I’ve been here.

  “Victoria, it’s so nice of you to come.” She opens the door wider, so I take the cue and walk inside. I’ve never seen so much jewelry in one place, let alone on one person. Teardrop diamond earrings hang almost down to her shoulders. Mrs. Chaffee is always done up, and my sarcastic side wonders why she’d be dressed up for me. I’d feel special, but these are probably everyday clothes for her.

  “Thank you for inviting me.” I half expect her to check my wrist for the bracelet she gave me. It looked expensive, and it’s a little odd that she doesn’t look.

  She motions toward the formal dining room to the left. My family’s entire apartment would fit in this woman’s foyer. The house is so big that our footsteps echo when I follow her into the adjacent room. The floors are solid white, polished marble. There are fresh flowers on the table with seating for a dozen in the dining room. The table is made of some kind of rare wood. If I’d spent more time outdoors, I’d probably know what kind.

  The place is massive, and even though there’s furniture and everything’s perfectly decorated, it has an unfamiliar feel…hollow and empty. Sterile. I can’t imagine Caius growing up in a place like this.

  “How was the ride over?” She makes a gesture toward a seat near the head of the table. When I study her face as I pass by, I see lines. I can’t tell if they’re from worry or stress.

  “Fine.”

  “How was traffic?” Her makeup is perfect, too. A little too dark with the gray eyeshadow, but it looks right on her, somehow.

  “Light.” I’m a puppet tonight. I sit where I’m told. I smile despite the fact my face already hurts from practicing in the mirror earlier and my top lip sticks to my gums because my mouth is so dry.

  She frowns. “Mr. Chaffee is coming from the other direction. Must only be bad on that side.”

  I have no idea how to respond to that. I smile again. Harder.

  “I’m glad he’s running late. That way, we have time for some…girl talk.” Her icy smile sends a chill down my back.

  This should be interesting.

  I don’t say anything. I nod and smile, figuring she can’t find fault with my words if I don’t say a lot of them. My reasoning is twisted, I know, but I’m a ball of nerves and that makes it tough to think straight.

  A server comes in and stands beside her, holding a tray. Mrs. Chaffee nods and waves the young woman away after taking a plate. She sets the appetizer-sized meatballs in between us and takes a seat at the head of the table. I’m to her left.

  She pours tw
o glasses from carafes that have already been set up on the table. Hers is wine, and mine’s cranberry juice. It looks like it, and that’s what she gave me the last time I was here.

  “Seventeen.” She leans back in her chair, and her eyes go to a distant place. She takes a sip from her expensive crystal-cut stemware. The cuts of glass sparkle in the light from the chandelier. “I remember being that age. Right before college. The promise of the whole world in front of you.”

  “Exciting times.” I muster as much enthusiasm as I can. I have no idea where she’s going with this. Then again, maybe she just wants to talk. Is her life as it seems to me? I have a fleeting thought that this house needs children, but I dismiss it. Eleanor doesn’t strike me as the mothering type.

  I glance around. “May I ask a question?”

  “Of course.” Her gaze drifts toward me.

  She’s not the warmest person, but I thought everyone wanted a family. On the surface, the woman has everything; a house too big for two people, more money than she can spend, plenty of food. So, I go for it, “Do you want children?”

  Her back goes rigid, and she forces a smile. “Yes, I do.”

  “Does Mr. Chaffee?” I can’t decide who the holdout is.

  “Naturally, he does.” She takes a deep breath and then releases slowly. “We’ve just been waiting for…” There’s a wistful quality to her eyes now. “The right timing.”

  Wistful isn’t the right word for her emotion, but I can’t quite put my finger on what is.

  She takes a sip of wine and then sets the crystal glass on the table, signaling this conversation is over. The reaction surprises me, but then the day I figure out the Chaffees is the day I become head council. Snyder is already gunning for that post.

  “Are you friendly with a lot of people at school?” she asks.

  I shrug casually, even though my heartbeat is at a canter. “I have a couple of friends.”

  “Are you very close with them?”

  Where this is going, and why does she want to know about my personal life?

  “They’re all right.” I feel like a bug under a glass with her eyes on me. Mr. Chaffee in the room makes it even worse. Put those two together, and I feel like that same bug under a magnifying glass in hundred-degree heat. Tonight, I wish he’d show.

  “Good. It’s important to surround yourself with the right people, Victoria.” She runs her index finger along the rim of the glass. “You’ll learn that some people are more important than others.”

  I have nothing to say to that. I’m pretty sure that I have a good handle on who I want to spend my free time with, even though I don’t dare comment. My pulse has hit its stride, galloping wildly as if toward some imaginary finish line. I wish she’d make her point, so we can get on with this meal and I can go back to my dorm.

  “Meatball?” She motions toward the intricately patterned silver platter.

  “Thank you.” I pick up my appetizer fork and take one despite the fact I have no appetite. I’m waiting for her to drop the bomb that she knows about me and my boyfriend. I suddenly regret going public with our relationship so soon and at such a critical time. Everything I’ve sacrificed the past three years for might go up in smoke.

  She takes one and sets it on the small plate in front of her, opting for another sip of wine as she rolls the meatball around with her fork. “Are you friendly with the help at Easton?”

  “Like my teachers?”

  She shrugs. The meatball slips out from under her fork and rolls to the other side of her plate. “What about maintenance staff. Janitors?”

  I’m fixated on that meatball as she tries to push her fork into it but only manages to nudge it away from her. The maintenance staff she’s referring to is made up of kids like me. Or at least, like me before I was Selected.

  “Not really. I can’t say that I know any of them by name.” I don’t dare ask why. I’d rather talk about something else. Anything else but my relationships at Easton and especially Caius.

  The meatball is positioned directly under the tines of her fork with barely a half-inch of space between.

  “Good.” She stabs the meatball dead center.

  I can’t help it. I tense.

  “Because that wouldn’t be good for your future, would it?” She pops the meatball in her mouth.

  This is going to be a long night. I slowly chew on my meatball.

  She opens her mouth to speak again as noise sounds from the kitchen.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Mr. Chaffee says. I’ve never been so happy to hear his voice.

  “We’re in the dining room.” Something stirs behind her eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on.

  My attempt to connect the dots to our earlier conversation comes up empty when Mr. Chaffee breezes into the room. He’s handsome in his crisp, expensive suit. Together, they’re probably one of the most beautiful couples I’ve ever seen—her with her stylish clothes and flawless face, and him with his expensive suits and close-clipped dark hair. They’re not terribly old, mid-thirties would be my best guess. They somehow look younger, but that’s impossible. Her face is a little too pulled-looking if I look closely enough.

  He nods and then kisses her on the cheek. His actions are perfunctory, like picking up a newspaper from the driveway while walking toward the house.

  “Did traffic finally open up, dear?” She doesn’t look up from the rim of her wineglass.

  “Took longer than I thought to check up on an investment.” A servant appears from the adjoining kitchen, and Mr. Chaffee waves his hand, a subtle motion, and yet the worker immediately leaves the room. I’m assuming she’ll be back in a few moments with dinner, and I’m right.

  “So, I was just telling Victoria how important it is to stay focused on schoolwork and not get distracted with emotions between now and college.” She turns her attention from me back to him. “Young love is fickle, isn’t it, darling?”

  Mr. Chaffee nods again. Is he planning on actually talking to me or staying quiet through the entire meal?

  A maid enters carrying another silver tray, bigger this time. She sets the tray down on a buffet table and brings each plate one by one, starting with Mrs. Chaffee, then me, and then Mr. Chaffee.

  The girl looks like someone from my old neighborhood, although I’m sure I’ve never seen her before. Odd, I think, what a thin line separates us from sitting in this chair or being the one to carry the tray. I’m distracted by her small ankle tattoo and almost miss the fact that Eleanor is speaking to me.

  “I’m sorry, can you ask that again?” I heard her the first time, but I’m not thrilled with the question.

  “Have you met anyone…special?”

  Chapter Six

  My relationship with Caius is hardly Eleanor Chaffee’s business, and for a half second, I consider telling her off. My mother’s words wind through my mind, warning me. Poor people can’t afford pride.

  Someday, we won’t be poor.

  How much should I tell Eleanor? She doesn’t deserve to know anything, and yet since she’s my sponsor, I’m certain she doesn’t view it that way. Since we haven’t exactly been secretive, I have to be a little honest. My cheeks flame. “I’ve been spending time with someone lately. I guess I like him.”

  “Ah, first love. I thought I was in love once,” she says, surprising me with the sadness in her tone. She sounds distant, disconnected.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Chaffee take a long drink of wine. I become very interested in my plate of steak and baked potato, a meal I’ve only had one other time in my life, and it was here. They served it to celebrate their sponsorship announcement. Their company, DG Investments, made its first bet…me. They gave me a T-shirt to wear that had #InvestedInHumanPotential stamped on it. It wasn’t a great day for me.

  Tonight’s meal is the best I’ve had in a long time, but it’s har
d to enjoy when I have no idea what my family is eating. I think back to the hard bread and government-issued cheese that I grew up on. Then there’s the plain peanut butter the government hands out to families like mine.

  “There was a boy in college,” Eleanor continues while Mr. Chaffee cuts a piece of his steak and goes right on eating. He’s heard this before, and his stiff back makes me think he doesn’t appreciate the story.

  “We met the first day of freshman orientation. It was the first time I’d been away from home, and I guess I was lonely. Meeting Cord was like walking into a lightning bolt. I was infatuated instantly. He was young and handsome. Came from a good family. I was struck by his good looks and witty charm.” She pauses long enough to savor a sip from her wineglass.

  “Anyway”—she sighs—“to make a very long story short, young love is deceiving. After three years together, I was planning our future while he was on a ski trip with one of my friends. As it turns out, Cord was keeping his options open with quite a few girls at school while I looked like a fool in front of all my friends for betting on one horse. Everyone knew what he was up to except me. I trusted him. Even defended him to my best friend when she tried to warn me about his…extra-curricular activities. Guess the joke was on me all along.”

  She stops talking and looks at me. For a split-second, there’s grief in her eyes. I have no idea what to say.

  “I’m sorry that happened,” I respond, but I want to say that he sounds like a jerk.

  “Don’t be.” Eleanor regains her composure, stiffening her back while she takes a long sip from her glass. “Everything turned out as it should’ve. I met Spencer, fell in real love, and married the man of my dreams.” There’s a hollow quality to her voice—a subtle change, but even so, I notice.

  “Her food’s getting cold.” Mr. Chaffee motions toward my plate. “Let the child eat.”