Three-hundred thousand followers for a guy who doesn’t even remember how to turn on his phone half the time. I can’t wait. Lucky me. I groan directly into the picnic bench I’m resting my face against, because Carter just found out about all the awesome things his phone can do, like take pictures. Smile! has been his favorite word for the past two hours, and then he’d yank me close and take a picture of me before I’m ready. I try to tell myself that this is for a grade, that it’s all really important and I’m not currently losing my mind, but it’s starting to feel like a lost cause.
“What the…?” I look up. Carter is frowning at his phone, then turns the black screen toward me. A tiny red batter flashes across it before it goes completely dark, and I haven’t been this happy in months. Freaking finally!
“It’s dead,” I tell him. “Which means it’s about time you go and find someone else to annoy.”
“These things can die?” he asks me. “Then what’s the point of even having them? So what happens now? Do they shed their skin and another one comes out? Or am I gonna have to go, like, looking for another one?” Carter thinks for a moment, looks around at the dozens of other people lounging underneath trees, reading books, throwing footballs through the air and trying to subtly hook up with each other. “Or should I just steal one?”
I snort. “Good luck with that. Have you ever tried stealing anything from a superhuman?”
“‘course,” he says with a shrug. “Plenty of times.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Where did you say you were from again?”
He scratches the back of his head and says, “Old-Port.”
Right, I think to myself. Now that makes total sense. I’m not saying anything particularly bad about the superhumans who come out of that place, but…well, the less I say about that, the better. On one hand, it would be pretty funny watching him try to steal someone else’s phone just to see the fight he’d get into, but I’m also a very good, very righteous, and stupidly humble superhero who doesn’t want to see someone get hurt if she can’t help it (or whatever—knowing Pantheon U so far, Carter getting into a fight would somehow tank my GPA). So, despite my better judgement, I’m gonna have to pass on the opportunity to watch Carter get punched in the face by a senior.
“No,” I sigh, massaging my eyes. “You’ve just gotta charge the thing to make it keep working.”
“Right,” he mutters. “And we should go and find an Electropath for that?”
I stare at him for several moments. “Were you made in a lab? I won’t judge.”
I will.
“Listen,” he says, waving the phone. “This is just something I’ve never had before, alright? They look a little different where I come from. A lot simpler. And no, I’m not stupid, either. And no, I’m not a test-tube baby.”
“Well, whatever you are,” I say, waving my hand, “you should go talk to other people.”
“Why?” Carter says. “Mr. Fitz said that—”
“We’re partners in class,” I say, jabbing my finger into the red table. “Not outside. When we’re outside, I don’t know you, dude! And quite frankly, I don’t really care, either! So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I wanna go and grab lunch and go to my room and watch TV until I fall asleep, alright? Can I please go do that?”
He drums his fingers against the table, then says, “You’d think Number One would be harder to get, but if that’s all you’re doing with your time, then I guess when rankings come out at the end of the week, it’ll be mine.”
My lips twitch, threatened by a smile. “You think you’ve got a chance of taking my spot?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Why not?” I echo. I put a hand to my chest. “I’m Sentry. I didn’t bust my butt working this hard just for some rando with no rank and no Cape-Net profile to grab my spot. Jordan has a better chance of being One than you, because at least she’s a superhero that people can look at and say ‘she’s someone I can trust,’ not the phone thief.” I swing one leg off the bench and grab my backpack. “I can slack off the rest of the year and still be first.”
“You really believe that?” he asks when I stand up. “Doesn’t Liberty City deserve better?”
“Liberty City deserves the best, which is easy, because I am.” I press my hands against the table and lean in, close enough to drop my voice, almost to a whisper. “Listen, I’m here for the accolades. For the awards. I want to open my Cape-Net and watch ‘em stack up and make me look perfect. You think any of these bullshit hero ethics classes mean anything to me, dude? No. Absolutely-fucking-not. Guardian homeschooled heroism into my head from the moment I could read. What’s arguing with a bunch of old people and non-powereds gonna help with?”
Carter’s eyes are empty, but not cold, like he’s almost looking through me. “Guardian taught you?”
“That’s what happens when your mom’s the greatest superhero Earth has ever seen.”
His jaw moves, like he’s chewing his tongue and trying to swallow what he wants to say. I stand over him, waiting for him to speak, watching his jaw work, seeing the cogs in his skull grind and spin and churn out ideas.
Bad ideas. Ideas that are probably gonna get his skull rearranged if he speaks them.
“Right,” he says quietly, then slaps the table. “Well, let the best superhero win.”
“What?”
Carter stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder. “You’re gonna make this easy for me, but I like to think you’re smarter than just lying around all day and not actually doing something about keeping your spot. I mean, half the class probably wants your rank. Almost everyone wants to bump even one rank higher, and in case you don’t know—”—Carter pulls out his Pantheon U ID badge and shows it to me; I freeze straight away, staring so hard at it I nearly burn a hole through the plastic—“I’m ranked second.” What? But I thought Jordan was… Or was Red… What the fuck? I look at him, then the card, then back at him. He takes it from me and says, “So, like I said, let the best superhero win. When you go and ‘watch TV until you fall asleep’ or whatever, I’ll be making friends like you said, because that’s what good leaders do, and since you already know everybody, I’m just catching up.”
He pats my shoulder and walks away.
Or he would have if I didn’t grab the back of his t-shirt and stop him.
Carter looks over his shoulder and says, “Did I have something on my back?”
I stare at him, then quietly say, “That’s not possible.”
“For there to be something on my back?”
I yank him back onto the bench and point a finger in his face. “Being second. And without a Cape-Net?” I scoff and shake my head, hardly blinking, mouth so bitter I nearly want to spit. “Just a second ago, nobody had ever heard of you. You see those people in our class? We grew up together, ran in the same circles, heard about each other saving the day since we were kids. You skipped Orientation Day and suddenly you’re second? That’s bull—”
“Sam!” I shut my eyes, because now isn’t the time. God, I don’t ask much from you, but please let it not be the time for— Ana jogs up beside me, wearing shorts that show off the tattoos on her legs and a tight crop top that makes Carter look away and nearly redden. She beams at me, which she hasn’t done that brightly since I walked her home one night and told her she should maybe hold my hand just in case we got lost. Corny, I know. And she kept laughing at that joke for nearly five minutes straight because of how stupid it had been. But her fingers hadn’t left mine, not until we got to her porch and her mom nearly passed out seeing her choir girl daughter holding hands with another girl. And now she’s grinning. Ear-to-ear, hands on her hips, freckles on her cheeks and chestnut hair in a loose knot on the back of her head. “Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You wanna come for yoga?”
I make a face and say, “Yoga?”
“Yeah,” she says, then jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “The SSA is holding a superhuman meet and greet thing for the freshmen all week long to get us comfortable with the humans and stuff. Totally lame, but also kinda fun, you know?” I narrow my eyes at her. Where’s the punchline, Walker? “The more the merrier, by the way.”
Carter blinks and looks at Ana, then says, “Are you talking to me?”
And did she just say ‘more comfortable with the humans?’
Last I checked, Ana never had a problem with them to begin with.
“Yep,” Ana says. Still smiling. Still beaming like yoga is just about the coolest thing on this planet, even though Ana from a couple of months ago would rather listen to fingernails on chalkboards than do yoga. “Well?”
“We’re in the middle of something,” I say. “Maybe some other time.”
“Come onnn,” she says, putting her hand on my arm. “It’s not like you’re busy right now.”
“She’s busy shouting at me, so maybe that counts,” Carter mutters.
I shoot him a glare, then turn to Ana. “Go on without me, alright? Besides, the SSA creeps me out.”
Ana blinks, tilts her head a little, and says, “But…you’re a superhuman.”
“Yeah?” I say. “So what?”
“So the SSA is kinda like our backup plan, you know?” she says. “These guys have everything. I mean, that’s just what I heard. Internship shit. Extra off-campus work.” She nudges me. “They’re also pretty connected.”
I look at Ana for several moments. Several very long moments.
“What’re you saying?” I ask. “You hate politics.”
“This isn’t politics, Sam,” she says. “They’re a school club, which I think you should probably—”
“Ana,” I say quietly. Hm? is the look on her face, like a bright-eyed puppy. “Did they do something?”
“What do you mean?”
I step closer. Ana looks around as I lean in, almost until our noses touch. I squint my eyes and see through her skull and into her brain. Ana tries to move awake. I hold her face and keep her in front of me. I let my eyes wander through her skull, let them glide along her brain stem and force through the folds in the dense pink mass.
Nothing.
Telepaths leave growths behind in human brains. That’s what mom taught me. Brains react negatively to being shoved around. Blood clots. Poorly-woven memories get forced onto real memories, and the brain tries to get everything to make sense, which results in minor aneurysms, and since superhumans heal a lot better on average than a regular person, it’s nothing except a tiny swollen area. A very, very bad swollen area, because now your brain is gonna try to put things back together, and that poorly-woven memory is a puzzle piece that’s been glued to the rest of your brain without you knowing. Lost your keys? Voted for someone you don’t remember liking? Started acting weird the second we got to university? Telepath. Or, you know, I’m off my rocker and Ana is freaking me out right now, because the Ana I remember would’ve hated going for yoga, and if she did, it would be because she wanted to recruit someone for her brand. This Ana is a little too gung-ho, a little too excited about the idea of rules.
But she’s clean. Her brain is perfectly fine.
So perfectly normal it’s like she’s just had it cleaned.
I blink and get hit with a bout of nausea. I put a fist to my mouth and turn away, swallow bile and sigh through my teeth a little. Shaking my head, I look at Ana again, almost as intensely as she’s staring back at me.
“What?” she says, laughing uncomfortably. “Please don’t tell me I’ve got some kind of brain worm.”
“No, you’re right,” I say quietly, adjusting my backpack. “Yoga sounds fun.”
Her eyes brighten. “Really? Yes! This is gonna be so fun. They’re doing it on the quad behind the ethics lecture halls. Come on, before we get a bad spot and can’t see Ashley. I heard she’s the best instructor, like, ever.”
Since when do you talk that way?
“Hey,” I say to Carter, walking backward. “Don’t wait up. Go and bother Summer or something.”
He stands up and shouts, “What the hell is yoga?”
A waste of my time, I think, as Ana grabs my hand tight. And something I need to figure out.
The SSA must have a stake in the national defence budget, because they’ve set up a lot more than just yoga mats on the grass. There are snack tables and buffet bars, SSA helpers are handing out fliers and directing activities, and Ana is holding my hand so tight it’s starting to feel like she’s trying to break her own fingers. Ana was never huge on any of our high school activities. She only cared about prom and homecoming because it meant her band could perform and the school wouldn’t have to pay for entertainment, but she’d slip out of the gym as soon as they tried to get everyone to slow dance with each other. Well, I think that’s what usually happens. I was never really there.
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“How did you even hear about this?” I ask her.
She shakes her phone. “I got a text about it. I’m pretty sure they sent it to every freshman.”
I check my phone, and…nope. A bunch of messages I’ll get to later, and nothing close to an invite. Am I offended? A little. Am I heartbroken? Not really. At least they can’t lump me in with the rest of my draft class. My phone number becoming public information would suck. I already get enough spam calls as it is, I don’t need…
My nose twitches.
A second later, rat-boy is standing beside me. Now in broad daylight, he’s a lot uglier than I remember. Darker circles around his eyes, wire-thin black hair pressed to his scalp and this weird sagging smile on his face, like the effort of it is dragging the flesh off his head. He smells like…sulfur. Like wet hair and wet rust and wet, dirty skin. He offers his hand to shake, but this time I don’t, because his fingernails are gnarly and so is the skin on him.
Ana, instead, grabs it and shakes. “Hey, Jasper. Has the yoga sessions started yet?”
Since when were these two friends?
“Ashley’s getting ready,” he says, then keeps his hand pointed at me, like he wants to find a way to shove his fingers through my gut. His eyes slide toward me, blue-green, oddly bright. “I’m really happy you’re warming up to us. After our talk on the hill, I thought you weren’t gonna turn up for any more of our meetings, but I guess Ashley just has that appeal to people, you know?” His hand keeps waiting. I finally relent and shake, squeezing a little until I see him flinch and pull away. “Well,” he says, wriggling his fingers. “I’m gonna run. I need as many of you freshmen here as possible, because this shit? This is the future. You see how us Gifted and the Ungifted are all mingling and having fun?” He nudges my arm. I try not to shudder as his leathery skin touches mine. “See? We’re inclusive, which you can’t say about the HL. Walk in there as a Supe and you’re bound to get yelled at to leave.”
“Maybe they’re afraid,” I say with a shrug. “Some superhumans are—”
“Gifteds,” he says, nodding his head. “We used Gifted around here.”
I glance at Ana, because can you believe this—
She shrugs. “It’s an affirmation thing. I mean, kids like us get told we’re the same as the Ungifted since we’re little, y’know? It’s this whole seminar on superhuman self-love. Ashley posted it to her socials. Check it out.”
My head goes from Ana to Jasper, then I laugh lightly, because right, I get it—inside jokes.
“This is lame,” I say to Ana. “Let’s go somewhere else and hang out.”
Ana steps back. “Look, if you don’t have fun in the next ten minutes, we’ll leave. But just give it a shot?”
I groan, because I can think about a million other things I’d rather be doing than hang around a bunch of strangers for most of the day. I’m not used to huge groups like this. High school was an arm length away. I always took my exams at my own time and only really came to class if I cared that day. Masses of people this big just make me uncomfortable. My skin gets itchy and my palms get all sweaty, and now there’s a whole bunch of people looking over their shoulders at me, whispering and discreetly waving, and God, I hate this—I hate, hate, hate this.
“Five minutes,” I say. “Five minutes, and if it sucks, we’re leaving.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing on one leg, palms pressed together in front of my chest, trying to conjure up feelings of serenity and happiness and this is so goddamned boring. Look, I surf, I skateboard—I love getting all physical, you might as well call me Action-Woman (don’t sue me, AW, I’m kidding), but I can hear a bunch of other people starting to get emotional, because they’re starting to relive their trauma or work through their emotions with the help of touching your toes. Ana is having the time of her life beside me. She’s all zen and peaceful, eyes shut and smile soft as she slides from one stretch to the next. Ashley is up front in a scarlet jumpsuit, hair pinned into a French braid and her smile as thin as my patience for her quiet humming. It just feels so stupid. I’m as flexible as they come. Being a superhero means having to stretch every day, unless you want to blow out your back in front of the public when you’re trying to save everyone, and I am not joining those superhero public fail compilations.
But this is just plain old boring.
“And relax,” Ashley sighs. Everyone lets out a deep breath and flops to their mats. SSA helpers go around handing people bottles of water and telling them about the great job they did. One of them comes up to me, and I wave him away before he even gets close. “Thank you all for coming. It’s just so good that we’ve got all these new faces here with us in Pantheon U. You’re the lifeblood of this school. The super future of this generation.” They all clap, like they’ve been to a rehearsal and know exactly what to do. “Every second Thursday, we’re going to be having Bible study at the pavilion, and we’ve also got group therapy in the student lobby. Feel free to reach out, and remember, everyone—” They almost all say this at once. “The Future is Super.” More clapping. More small talk as people get up and roll their big yoga mats. I try not to curse as I stuff my feet into my sneakers and try to leave.
Before I can, I hear a voice behind me say, “Samantha?”
I know who it is despite not turning around. I weigh my options here, because I can totally walk away and pretend I heard nothing, but Ashley says my name again, a little louder, and there’s no way I couldn’t have heard it.
The crushing weight of having super-hearing: the old ‘sorry, what was that?’ trick doesn’t work.
“That’s me,” I sigh, turning around. “Great yoga instructing. Ever thought of doing it full-time?”
Ashley’s smile is deathly thin, skin so pale I can see the veins under her flesh. “I’ve got bigger goals than that,” she says. Her voice is eerily smooth and soft, a commanding staleness that almost fills my head. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes? I won’t take too long. I know someone like you is very, very busy now.”
If it means you don’t talk to me again, then…
“Sure,” I say. “But keep it short, I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
“Of course.” Her eyes almost glimmer as she starts walking. She doesn’t speak for several minutes. It’s all tight nods to whoever passes by her and airy compliments to whoever tries talking to her. She leads me to a table full of SSA stickers and notebooks, pens and pencils and even t-shirts and clip-on capes. She looks at the three SSA helpers standing behind the booth, and they all quickly leave, but not before they put up a temporarily closed sign on the table. Ashley sweeps her hand at everything in front of me and says, “Pick your poison, and some for your friends, too. They’re all complimentary. The capes also change color when they get wet. Great for the aesthetic.”
I pick up a tiny action figure of a blonde-haired, hard-chinned superhero. He’s got a stiff black cape and SSA written on his chest in gold. “I know a bunch of Capes,” I mutter. “But who the hell is this supposed to be?”
“You, me, everyone around us,” she says with a smile. “We’ve got a women’s version, too, but those go like lemonade in summer. You can even have them customized to look like you or anyone you care about. Isn’t it cool?”
I put the thing back down and say, “If you’re trying to buy me, just get to your sales pitch already.”
Her smile grows. “I’d like you to join the SSA.”
“Pass,” I say, waving my hand. “I don’t do politics.”
“Oh, but Samantha,” she says. “Superheroes are inherently political. We’re entertainment and we’re fashion, we’re the construction industry and the future of technology. Being super means being born into politics, which is one of the most important superpowers you can ever have. Real power, Sam? Real power is in the SSA.”
“Can the SSA stop a supervillain from blowing up a hospital?”
“The SSA can allocate more superheroes to the hospital’s region so there’s less of a chance of that.”
“Prevention kinda doesn’t equal peace,” I say.
“Oh, I know,” she says. “Supervillains run rampant in Liberty City, and yet Ultra Force is right there in the Bay Area, overlooking half the city. But here? In school? It’s nice. It’s clean. It’s peaceful.” She fully turns to look at me. “And I think we should keep it that way. You’re important, Sam. You say one thing, everyone who believes in you will echo it. You jump and they’ll fly. You sing and they’ll scream.” Ashley gets closer, smiling directly at me, so near I can smell the perfume clinging to her cold skin. “Look, I get it. Politics might be the word people like to throw around, and it can be pretty scary, but the truth, Sam, is that the SSA is more like a social club for young heroes who just need more help. What you need isn’t more of that. What Sentry needs is people to listen to her.”
“And, what, your little cocktail club is gonna do that for me? Like I’m already not popular?”
“There’s popular, and then there’s being powerful and respected.” Ashley shrugs. “Think about it. Every superhero needs a team. Even your mom isn’t Independent. Hang out with us. Work out with us. Give your race a real chance, because we’re having voting for student council done soon, and I’d really appreciate it if you took a moment to see all the good that the SSA can do for this school, because with us in charge, we wouldn’t have silly rules like that sidekick punishment. I mean, stopping fliers from flying is like stopping humans from breathing. How’s that fair? Some of us fly before we can even crawl, and the HL made it that way so we’re all more equal. It’s only my opinion, of course, but it’s just a little bit ridiculous that superhumans can’t be super. It’s almost like they want us to feel uncomfortable in our own skin. I mean, we carry around cards when we’re little that tell everyone we’re different, just so the humans feel safer, like they think little three year old Emily will destroy her school.”
“You’re kinda making it seem like your little school club can change the world.”
“Oh, I don’t think we can. I know we can. Change starts here and now.”
I snort. “Right, and for the decades PU has been open, you’re going to change this place alone?”
Ashley shakes her head. “I’m Gifted, Sam. We’re never alone. Together? The possibilities are endless.”
“And how’s the SSA meant to change what the school wants?” I ask her.
“Student council in Pantheon U means a lot, Sam. A lot more than you think.” She sits on the edge of the table and waves her hand. “Have you joined a sorority yet? My sisters in Delphi would love to have you around.”
“What the hell would a sorority even do for me?”
Her eyes sparkle again. “Everything. It’s a sisterhood of power. And we need new members. Some of our members are really picky, but ever since you came, there’s been whispers about you. Favorable whispers, too.”
I chew the edge of my tongue and adjust my backpack, then finally say, “But what’ll I get?”
“What do you need?”
“I want—”
“No, Sam,” Ashley says softly. “What is it that you need? What’s something your mother can’t buy you or your influence can’t arrange for you or your superpowers can’t build for you? What’s that one thing you need?”
“I…” I scratch my neck. “I dunno. I just want to be the best, I guess. And I’m doing that right now.”
She lowers her voice. “Between me and you, the Board of Directors isn’t too keen on your rank right now.” I frown and open my mouth to speak. She lifts her hand. “You didn’t hear that from me. Just rumors in offices and so on. When rankings come out for your class just before Fight Night this Saturday? I’d rather you know where you stand and you’ve done everything you can to make sure you stay Number One. You think Logan is first for seniors for no reason? PU’s golden boy joined a frat his first day on campus. For us juniors? Alexis has been part of Delphi since both of us got on campus, nearly three months before I ever joined. The current sophomore class is a nasty mess because they’ve all tanked their rankings with one failed exam after another, but the best of them? The ones so good they’re even in the starting eleven of the Fight Night team? They’re smart. They’re in frats and they’re in our sisterhoods, and they know just how much it means to be with their kind. Important people, people who want to be the very best, Sam? They make good choices, and good choices means having good people around you to make sure you keep being good….but what am I saying? You want to be the best. So why not make the best choice?”
“And the best choice,” I say quietly, “is joining the SSA?”
“Well, if that’s what the best decision feels like to you…” Ashley smiles. “Then yes.”
I swallow and look past her, at the SSA posters, at the mirror scribbled on with a red marker that says, ‘this is the face of the future!’ To the action figures. To the keychains and the murals and the banners and the capes and even the full spandex costume tightly hugging a tall, blonde mannequin that’s grinning at me. Well, Clare said the same thing, didn’t she? If you wanna be the best, you’ve gotta make the best decisions. And Carter thinks he’s got my number, he thinks he can waltz in here and take what’s mine and wave at me goodbye as he stands in my place.
My heart is loud against my rib cage, punching so hard I can feel it deep in my gut.
Ashley hasn’t blinked in nearly a minute. She stares and smiles at me for so long my skin crawls.
“Hello, hello.” Clare. Suddenly beside me. I blink and shake my head. She’s got her tablet pressed to her chest, brown hair pinned back and black pencil skirt ironed to perfection. She smiles at Ashley and says, “Nice lipstick. I’d recommend something a lot less shiny, it makes your face look plastic and hollow. Superhumans tend to have oilier skin, so I suggest you get a cream that counteracts that. They’re pretty cheap. Glad I can help.” She looks at me, ignoring the tiniest twitch in Ashley’s lips—a scowl, almost, that quickly turns to her eyes carving Clare’s body into sections she can understand, from her legs to her chest to the side of her face, like she’s a butcher and wants only the best cuts she can get out of a human’s body. “Great news! I just secured you a snazzy bunch of new costume ideas for your team building getaway this weekend. I was thinking of showing them to you tonight, but since your next class is at night, we might as well work through them the whole of today, what do you think?”
Ashley gets off the table and says, “You must be her human helper.”
“Sinclare,” she says, smiling tightly. Clare looks back at me. “Lunch first?”
“I really do love how they grab girls like you off the first and second floors and sell them a dream,” Ashley says. Clare’s jaw tightens. Ashley’s fingertips graze my shoulder as she slowly turns to leave. “I’ll be seeing you around, Samantha. And remember, voting is this week, and results come out next week. Your voice matters, OK?”
I smile and say, “Yeah, I’ll, uh, think about it. Delphi, right?”
“Exactly,” Ashley says, eyes burning brightly again. “I live off campus, but if you need me, I won’t be hard to find.” She taps her nose before she spins around on her heels. I hear her sing, “The Future is Super, don’t forget.”
Clare grabs my bicep and says, “You’re not joining Delphi.”
I pull my arm away and say, “I can choose what the hell I want to do, thank you very much.”
Clare sighs from her nose, shuts her eyes, nods, then her smile clicks back onto her face. “Lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I say.
“Good,” she says. “More time for costume work.”
She starts walking away. I don’t follow. Clare glances over her shoulder.
“Is it true?” I ask her. She raises an eyebrow. “About my rank maybe falling after this week?”
Clare’s face is blank. She only smiles. “Did Ashley tell you that?”
I fold my arms. “Just answer the question.”
“Rumors,” she says. “That’s PU for you, nothing but lies and rumors. You’re the best, and the best is Number One, and the best won’t stop being Number One until she decides otherwise. Rumors don’t change that.”
“But the Board of Directors do.”
Clare walks closer and tilts her head slightly. “The Board? Sam, nobody actually knows who’s on the Board. You’ve got people walking around PU claiming they know, or their parents are on it, or they’ve got a cousin who heard from their brother’s dog’s aunt and twice removed cat that I’m on the Board. Ask the groundskeeper, they’re on the board, too, probably.” She smiles. “It’s noise. Right now, we need to keep you focused, so if I was you, don’t listen to it. Keep attending class, keep working hard, and leave the rest to me, alright? I can handle it.”
I look over my shoulder, watching Ana excitedly nod as Ashley talks to her. I swear, Ashley can tell that girl to murder a cat with her bare hands and she wouldn’t hesitate. Conrad Red once said something about Old America before the bombs dropped. He’d said ‘A hissing cat today is an attacking cat tomorrow. Act now, because we do not know if we act can tomorrow.’ Stupid, I know, because that just meant the Soviets were afraid of us a lot more than we were afraid of them, and all because we had more superheroes than the rest of the world combined. It kinda felt like that right now, like I’m on the brink of making a bad decision, but it’s the kind of decision I needed to make. I stick with Clare because she’s helpful and she’s honest: she wants me to win, and I also want to win, so we’re on the same page, and sure the SSA might be a little weird, but they’d make sure I win, too. Having Ashley in my, too, corner means I’d know things before other freshmen, and why shouldn’t I use my name to get more info?
And hell, she made a good point. Mom isn’t working alone, either. Why should I?
“Sam,” Clare says. I blink and turn to look at her. “Costumes and lunch?”
“Have you ever been in a sorority here?” I ask her quietly.
“Nope. And I suggest you don’t either.”
“But—”
She taps her wrist. “Your boosters want answers by the end of the day, superstar. Let’s get going.”
Ashley glances over her shoulder at me and smiles one last time, lips pressed thin.
“Yeah,” I mutter, adjusting my bag. “Whatever you want.”
I leave Ana shaking Ashley’s hand, holding it tighter than she ever held mine.
Would you join the SSA as a Pantheon U freshman?
