her into buying whatever suits and blouses she could find with the last four hundredandfiftydollarsshehadtohername.Shegrabbedapalm-sized
mirrorandhelditinfrontofher;herloosewavesweresomewhattamed,
parted to the side and delicately draped over her shoulders. Her white blouse wassimpleandstandard,fittedsnuglyacrossherchestandbuttonedalltheway
tothecollarwhereitwasadornedwithapetite,blackbowtie.Shefrowned;her reflectionlookedtoherlikeanimpostor,acostumedfigurewhowas
practically unrecognizable. With an audible sigh, she rolled her sleeves and cuffedthemaroundherelbows,desperatetocreatesomesenseofcasualness,
howeverminororinconsequentialitmaybe.
Concedingdefeat,sheweavedthroughthecountlesspinksuitcasesthat
litteredherfloor,pluckedhershoulderbagfromthecorneroftheroom,and
headedforthedoor—onlytobehaltedbyasmallpinkpillowthatsmackedher
acrossthebackofherhead.
“Wherethehellareyougoing?”Madisonpouted.Shewasstillsittingather
vanityapplyinghermakeup.
“Uh,toclass?”
MadisonturnedtoEveandglowered.“Bestfriendswalktoclasstogether,
dummy.”
Evesighedandtookaseatonherbed.Yesterday,Madisonhaddetermined
thatshewasher“goodfriend,”andtodayshehadbeenpromotedto“best
friend.”Itwasatitleanygirlwould’vedreamedof—thatis,anygirlbutEve.
Buttherewasnouseinfightingit;shehadanewimagetouphold,onethatwas
very foreign to her. She was now a human—an agreeable one, the kind who blendedinwiththecrowd,whodidn’tattractattention,createfriction,orraise questions. If that meant she had to tolerate her roommate’s eccentricities, she woulddoit—withrancor,butstill,shewoulddoit.
Madisonkickedonapairofstilettosandtookonelastlookinhermirror.
Heroutfitshimmeredjustasbrightlyasthediamondsonherwrist;herblouse
was golden, clearly hand-stitched by an extravagant designer in some far-off countrythatEvehadneverbeento.Thesleeveswerecappedattheshoulders
and enhanced with silk ruffles that matched the appliqué at the bottom of her snow-white skirt. Her tie was large and tethered into a thick bow across her neck like a decorative ribbon on a beautiful package. As she turned from the mirror,sheglancedatEve,examiningherfromheadtotoe.
“Well,wecan’t allwearcouture,”shesmirked,struttingoutthedoor.
ThetwogirlsdashedthroughRutherfordHallandoutintothecourtyardin
searchofthebusinessbuilding.AnoceanofsuitscloudedEve’svision:skirts,
ties,andtrousersingrey,black,andbluestretchedasfarastheeyecouldsee, and while some, like Madison, made an effort to stand out, Eve for one was happy to blend in with the monotonous majority. She could hear the pitter-patter of Hayden’s feet as she scuttled behind them, desperate to keep pace as they located their lecture hall. Eve’s first class of the day was Leadership Principles with Professor Clarke, and she had the unfortunate displeasure of sharingitwithMadisonPalmerandHaydenVonDecker.Asthethreesome
foundtheirseats,theprofessorapproachedthepodiumandbeganhislecture.
“Howmanyofyouwanttobehererightnow?”heasked.
Theclasswasquietasidefromtheindifferentmutteringsofafewstudents,
andascantnumberofhandsslowlyandreluctantlyreachedintotheair.
“That’swhatIthought,”theprofessorchuckled.“Andtothoseofyouwho
raisedyourhands,you’reliars.”Hesteppedawayfromhispodiumandsaton
theedgeofhisdesk.“Look,Igetit,Ireallydo.You’reherebecausethisclass
isrequired.Nomatterthemajor,theconcentration,thespecialcircumstanceor whateverelse, youall havetobehere.Anditsucks.”
Evestudiedhimforamoment;hewasayoungmaninhismid-thirtieswith
kindbrowneyesandflawless,chocolateskin.Hiswordswerestrongandfirm
butlacedwithafriendly,almostgentleundertone.
“Doesanyoneknow whythisclassisrequired?”heasked.
Again,theroomwassilent.
“Howaboutahistorylesson.CansomeonetellmewhyBillingtonwas
constructedinthefirstplace?”
Asinglestudentinthefrontoftheclassglancedacrosstheroomand
awkwardlysanklowerintoherchair.“Interlopers?”shemumbled.
“Interlopers,”Clarkerepeated,noddingatthegirl.“Butmorespecifically,
our reaction to the Interlopers. You see, to put it simply, we’re not getting anything done. The people in Washington? They’re stumped. Progress is at a standstill.We’reinastateofchaos,class.”
Theprofessorranhisfingersacrossapalm-sizedcontroller,andashedid
so, words appeared along the wall at the front of the class, projected as hologramsthatilluminatedtheroomlikelightbulbs:
NecessityBreedsInnovation.
“Withfewotheroptions,ourgovernmentcreatedBillington:aplacewhere
youthcangrowintothekindofpeoplewhocanrestorethiscountrytowhatit
oncewas.Otherschoolshavehistoryandpedigree,buthereatBillington,we have intention. We have a specific, calculated purpose. That’s what makes us special.”
Hiswordsweremotivating,maybeeveninspirational—atleast,they
probablyweretosomeone,somewhereinthatroom.Evelookedoverat
Madison—shewasyawninganddrawingpenisesalloverherdesk.Everolled
hereyesandturnedhergazebacktotheprojection.
“Now,Irealizethat’sahellofalotofpressureonyourshoulders,but you
signed up for it. Whether you realized it or not, when you enrolled in this institution, you told the world that you’re a leader. That’s why this class is required—becauseeverysingleoneofyouhaswhatittakestobealeader.”
ThesoundofsmackingandslurpingbrokeEve’sconcentration;Madison
wasgnawingatastickypieceofbubblegum,herlipsflappingwitheachnoisy
chomp,whileHaydenguzzleddownjuicefromadaintychildren’sjuicebox.
Evelaughedunderherbreath— leaders,shethoughttoherself.Perhapsnotall of Billington’s students were as qualified as Clarke assumed. Just when Eve thoughthergawkinghadgoneunnoticed,Hayden’seyesshottowardherand
squintedintoapiercingglare.Evequicklyturnedawayandfocusedher
attentiononthelecture.
Clarkeapproachedhispodium.“Activateyourscratchpads,andwe’llstart
withchapterone.”
Theclassgroanedastheyfiddledwiththeirbagsandonebyonepulledout
small cubes of various colors. They placed their cubes on the desks before
them,pressingthecenterbuttonandthenwatchingasthemetallicsidespivoted and unfolded into the shape of a large, flat computer screen. Eve sighed; her scratchpad was bulky and thick, an older version that had come out over a decadeagoanddesperatelyneededtoberenovated.Herpeers,bycontrast,had
sleek,almostweightlessscratchpadsthatwereasslenderasasheetofpaperbut
athousandtimesmoredurable—andexponentiallymorestylish.Eveglanced
over at Madison; her scratchpad was lined with diamond flecks that reflected beamsofl
ightacrosstheceilinginprism-likepatterns.
ProfessorClarkedelvedintothehistoryofleadership— “thosewho
triumphed versus those who failed,” as he put it—and Eve found herself immersed in a topic she was hardly interested in. As she flipped through the pagesofherdigitaltextbook,shecaughtaglimpseofhertwounwanted
comradesoutofthecornerofhereye—Madisoncontinuedtodecorateher
deskwithphallicartwork,andHaydenstillscowledinEve’sdirection.
Timewassoonup.Thestudentsgatheredtheirbelongings,andMadison
scoffed at Eve’s large, clunky scratchpad as she deactivated it and shoved it intohershoulderbag.Theyheadeddownthestepsofthelecturehall,andjust
asshemadeherwaytothefrontoftheclass,Evelockedeyeswiththeeloquent
ProfessorClarke.Henoddedatherandsmiled,assheassumedhedidtoevery
student,andwithaforcedhalf-smirkshequicklyscurriedoutthedoor.
“What’syournextclass?”Madisonasked,staringathercuticlesasthey
strolleddownthehallway.“Isitatotalsuckgasmlikethatlastone?”
Evetookalookatheritinerary.“BusinessMath,”sheread.
Madisongrimaced.“Yuck.Who’syourteacher?”
“ProfessorRichards?”
“Dr.Dick?”Haydenturnedtoher,andforthefirsttimeallday,herglarelifted intotheslightesthintofagrin.“You’regoingtodie,Eve.”
“What?”
“Eve,hon,”Madisoncooedcondescendingly,“aprofessordoesn’tgeta
nicknamelike ‘Dr.Dick’ fornoreason.Preparetofail.”
“Howdoyouknowthis?”
“How do you not know this? Everyone knows about Dr. Dick. His class is a nightmare.Letmeseethis.”MadisonsnatchedEve’sitineraryfromherhands.
“StrategicCommunicationwithProfessorGupta.Soundsboring.”Shestopped
suddenly,herfacetwistedintoadisgustedscowl.
“You’retaking Hand-to-HandCombat?”shegasped.“Tellmethisisajoke.”
Evegrabbedthepaperandshoveditbackintohershoulderbag.“What’s
wrongwiththat?”
“Well,numberone:you’reagirl.Numbertwo:you’renotaguy.Number
three:ew?”
“Maybeshehasviolenttendencies,”Haydenadded.“Imean,whatdowe
reallyknowabouther?”
“OhmyGod,justshutup,Hayden,”Madisonsaid,wavingHaydenawayas
ifshewereapesteringfly.“Eve’snotviolent…Right,Eve?”
“Seriously?OfcourseI’mnotviolent.”Shepausedforamomentasshe
staredbackatthetwogirls,rackingherbrainforabelievableexplanation.
Alie.
“Ijustlikeagoodworkout,that’sall.”
“Well,ifyoustarttodevelopmanlymuscles,wewon’tbeonspeaking
terms.”
Thegirlwasunbearable,aswasherdevotedlackey.Evewasnoexperton
friendship,butifthiswasanyindicationofwhatitwaslike,sheneedn’tbother with the stuff. Still, a nagging voice in the back of her mind urged her to remain quiet. No friction, it said. Friction leads to questions, and questions revealthetruth— yourtruth. Sheclenchedherjawandsaidnothing.
Beforeshecouldwasteanymoretimestewingoverthetopic,shefound
herselfdistractedbyafaintglowcomingfromtheothersideofthecorridor.A
brightlylitscreenhungfromthewall,itsdisplaycoveredinflashingheadlines
and keywords: room for rent, holovision for sale, and calculus tutor needed werejustafewthatcaughtherattention.Beloweachheadingwasalargered
button that read click to download to scratchpad. She was staring at a digital bulletinboard.
“Eve? Eve! Areyouevenlisteningtome?”Madisonwhined,makingherway
toEve’sside.“Whatareyoudoing?”
Evekepthereyesonthestreamingtext.“Lookingforsomething.”
“Forwhat?”
“Ajob.”
“A job? ”Madisonsnarledindisbelief.“Haveyoulostyour MIND? ”
“What?Ineedwork.Myscholarshiponlycoversthisyear.”
“So?Getyourparentstopayforschool.That’swhatthey’refor.”
“Myparentsaredead.”
Madisonfaltered.“Oh.Awkward.”
Haydencockedherhead.“Isthathowyougotthescholarship?”
“Don’tyou dare,”Madisonspat,swattingEve’shandawayfromthemanyred buttons.“Barista?Server?”Shereadoverthejoblistings,hereyeswidewith
horror.“RETAIL? Youknowtheymakeyoufoldclothes,right?Doyoureally want foldinginyourfuture?”
Evebitherbottomlip,herpatiencewaning.“HowelseamIgoingtogetthe
money?”
“Maybefindawaythatisn’tdegrading,perhaps?Sellyourblood,oryour
hair, or even your eggs! Just please, please don’t make me the poor Rutherfordianwho’sroomingwitha workinggirl.I’llneversurvivethe
humiliation.”
As Eve fought to suppress the biting witticisms lingering on the tip of her tongue,shecaughtaglimpseofsomethingpeculiar.Ayoung,burlyman
dressedinmilitaryfatigueswasstrollingthroughthehallway,hishandfirmly
gripping a rifle at his side. He looked over at her, their eyes locking for a momentbeforeheturnedawayandexitedthebuilding.Shefurrowedherbrow
—wasthereamilitarybasecloseby?Shecouldn’tfathomwhyanarmed
soldierwouldberoamingthehallsofauniversity,andevenmorestrangewas
thefactthatnooneelseseemedtonotice,mind,orcare.
Suddenly,aheavyweightsmashedintoEve’sbacklikeawreckingball,
sendingherstumblingforwardandfallingdirectlyintoMadison’scushy
breasts.
MadisonpushedEvefromherbosom,hernostrilsflaringwithannoyanceas
shestraightenedherblouse.“God,Eve,ifyoucan’twalkinheels,you
shouldn’twearthem,”shemoaned.
Evegrowled—shehadhadenough.Shespunaroundinsearchofthebull-in-
china-shopculpritandfoundayoungmaninagreyblazer,hunchedoverashe
gatheredhisbelongingsfromthefloor.HelookedupatEve—atherscornful
scowl—andhischeeksreddenedtheslightestbit.
“Sorry,” he chuckled as he stood to his feet. He was taller than Eve, with chestnut-coloredhairandacleanly-shaven,chiseledjaw,andshethoughtfora
momentthathebelongedonthecoveroftheBillingtonUniversitycatalog.
“It’sokay.SometimesIforgethowtowalk,too,”shescoffed,herwords
latheredwithsarcasm.
“Itwasanaccident.Justroughhousingwiththeguys.”
“Well, lucky for you, this campus is loaded. I’m sure there’s a playground somewhere.Maybeyoushouldgoroughhouse there.”
Theboylaughed,hiseyeswidewithsurprise.“Ouch,”hemumbled,staring
backathercuriously.Hesmiledandrestedhishandonherarm.“Pleaseaccept
mysincerestapologies.”Hewinked.
“Howkind.”Sherolledhereyes.“Don’tkillanyoneonyourwaytoclass.”
“I’lltrymyhardest.”
Sheturnedawayfromhim—shecouldhearhimtellhisfriendssome
nonsenseaboutherrippinghima“newone,”butsheignoredit.Consumed withirritation,shehurriedtohernextclass,hopingtoleaveMadison,Hayden,
andtheclumsy,bumblingwhoever-he-wasfarbehind,onlytorealizethat
the
twogirlswereinsteadfrolickingrightbesideher.
“Eve,”Madisongasped,playfullysmackinghershoulder.“Youdidn’t!”
“Didn’twhat?”
“Doyou knowwhothatwas?”
Evewrinkledhernose.“AmIsupposedto?”
“ThatwasJasonValentine!”
“…ShouldIknowthatname?”
Madison huffed. “Eve, just once can you at least pretend to have some knowledgeoftheelitesocialpyramid?”
Evestaredbackather,hergazeemptyandapathetic.
“Jason Valentine is the son of Senator Valentine. From New York? Ring a bell?”
“Notreallyintopolitics,Madison.”
“Politics,schmolitics,that’snotthepoint.Hecomesfromaveryinfluential
bloodline, and more importantly, he comes from money. Not my kind of money,butmoneynonetheless.”Shepointedherchinintheair.“Ourparents
summertogetherallthetime.He’soneofmytoptenpotentialhusbands:
numberthree,tobeexact.It’snoteasytobreakintothetopfive.”
“Well,congratulationstoJason…”Evemumbled,unimpressed.
Madisonshovedherhandsontoherhips.“Youweren’tflirtingwithhim, wereyou?”
“What?Italkedtohimfortwoseconds—”
“Ibetshewasflirting,”Haydenadded,flashingEvealookofblatant
skepticism.“Hetouchedherarm.”
“Friendsdon’tdothat,youknow.Theydon’tflirtwitheachothers’
husbands.”
Evelaughedaloud.“Sonowyou’remarried?”
“It’snotfunny, Eve,”Madisonsnapped.“Doyouseemelaughing?Areyou
laughing,Hayden?”
Haydencrossedherarmsandwiggledhernose.“I’mnotlaughing.”
“She’snotlaughing.”
Evesighed.“Look,Idon’tknowtheguy.Idon’tcarewhoheis,orwhohe’s
relatedto,orhowmuchmoneyhehas.Youcanhavehim.”
Madisonstaredatherforasecondlongerandthenfinallysmiled.
“God,Eve,itis sorefreshingtomeetagirlIcanactuallytrust.”
“But—hetouchedherarm…”
“Shutup,Hayden!”
Thetwosomesauntereddownthecorridor,finallyleavingEvebehind—then
stopped,justforamoment,andturnedinunison.