“We’rehavingdinnerinthedininghallatseven,”Madisoninstructed.
“You’resittingat mytable.Bethere—thatis, ifyousurviveDr.Dick’sclass.”
Theheiressandherminionturnedthecorner,bickeringincessantlyuntil
theymadetheirwayoutofsight.Eveexhaledloudly;toberidofthemwasa
gift,evenifitwasonlyforafewhours.ButEve’ssenseofreliefwasquickly
replacedwithabadgeringanxietyassherecalledwhichclasswasawaitingher:
BusinessMathematicswiththeso-calledDr.Dick.
Evereluctantlyenteredtheclassroomandscannedhersurroundings;she
sawnofamiliarfaces,thoughtheyallseemedtowearthesameexpressionof
grimdread.Maybetherewassomevaliditytothis“Dr.Dick”rumorafterall.
Butshedidn’thavemuchtimetospeculateonthetopic,becauseassoonasshe
satdown,herprofessorbargedthroughthedoorwayandtrudgedtowardhis
desk,ploppinghispapersandbriefcasedownwithaslap.
“We’restartingwithcashflow,”hegroaned,leapingstraightintothelecture
withoutsomuchasanintroduction.Hewasaforty-something-year-old,
sloppilydressedmanwithhisshirtpartiallyuntuckedandhisfadedyellowtie
askew.Hisashyhairwasgreasy,thin,anduncombed,andhisfacelookedtired
anddroopy.
“Getoutyourscratchpadsandpulluppagefiveinyourmanual.”
Eveactivatedhersmallcomputerandflippedthroughherdigitaltextbook,
stupefiedbythealgorithmsandformulasthatcoveredthescreenlikeathick,
black blanket of symbols. A faint hum filled the lecture hall as the students mumbledamongthemselves,completelyperplexedbythecalculationsinfront
ofthem.
“QUIETDOWN,”ProfessorRichardsbarked,causingtheentirefrontrow
toflinchsuddenly.“You’readultsnow.Betterstartactinglikeit.”
Andsothelecturebegan,hisvoicedroningonendlesslylikewatersurging
throughanopenedfloodgate.Withinminutes,Evefoundherselflostinamaze
ofnumericalnonsensethatshecouldn’tseemtodecipherorcomprehend.She
glanced across the room, only to see that her classmates looked equally as hopeless and forlorn as she felt, and just when she thought that the class couldn’tgetanymoreintolerablethanithadalreadybecome,shenoticedwhat
she could only describe as a terrible, regrettable decision on someone else’s part:asingleraisedhandinthefrontoftheclass.
Theprofessorstopped,zeroinginonthesacrificiallambbeforehim.“Yes?”
Thegirlloweredherhandsomewhatapprehensivelybeforeshespoke.
“Professor,wouldyoumindslowingdownabit?You’regoingprettyfast.”
ProfessorRichardspaused.Hestaredatthegirlforamoment,hiseyes
beady,hislipspartedfoolishly,almostindisbelief.
“Repeatyourself,”hefinallysaid,hisenunciationsharpanddisdainful.
Thegirlcautiouslylookedfromsidetosideandthenbackattheprofessor.
“Canyoujust…slowdown?Please?”
Richards curled his fingers around his palm-sized controller and gripped it tightly.Evecouldbarelyhearhimmutteringunderhisbreath.
“Youthinkyoucanteachthisclassbetterthan Ican?”
Thegirlwavered.“What?No,Ijust—”
“Youjustwhat?”
“Ithought—”
“You thought?”
“I—”
“Duck.”
“What?”
Withouthesitation,Richardshurledhiscontrolleratthegirl,hittingher
straightacrosshereyewithapainfullyloudclap.Theentireclassgasped,their mouthsgapingwithshockandtransparentfearasthegirlclutchedather
swellingeye.
Theprofessorresumedhiscasualpacingatthefrontoftheclass,seemingly
indifferenttothescenehehadcreated.Heshrugged.“Ithoughtyouwantedto
teachtheclass.Justgivingyouthetoolstodoso.”
Hestrolledtowardthegirl’sside,leaningincloserasiftoexaminehisvictim.
Hisvoicecameoutinahiss.“Thisisthepartwhereyou leavemy class. ”
Thegirlsprangfromherdeskandracedoutoftheroomasifchasedbythe
devilhimself.Asthedoorslammedbehindher,Richardsturnedtofacetherest
ofhisstudents,adeviousgrinplasteredacrosshisoily,wrinkledface.
“Anyoneelsewanttotellmehowtodomyjob?”
“Damn,thisguyisnojoke.”
Eveheardthehushedwhispercomingfromthestudentsittingbesideher—a
boy, tall and skinny, with curly blond hair and a face covered in freckles. He was leaning to his side and talking out of the corner of his mouth with his short,stockyfriend.
“Seriously.I’veheardstoriesabouthimthatwouldmakeyourskincrawl.”
“Ibetthatgirlwasachimera.He hates chimeras—atleast,soI’vebeentold.”
Eveperkedupinherseat;shesubtlykeptoneearontheirconversationasshe
typedawayatherscratchpad.
Theportlyboychuckledsoftly.“Thenhemustbethrilledwithwhat’sbeen
goingonthepastcoupleofmonths.”
“Bethecelebrateseverytimeanotheroneistaken.”
“Wait,”Eveinterruptedbeforeshecouldstopherself.“Who’stakingwhat?”
Bothoftheboyslookedatherapprehensively,unawarethatshe’dbeen
eavesdropping. They quickly glanced at one another, their eyes wide and
fearful.
“Youdon’tknow?”thefreckledonefinallywhisperedback.“Youmustbea
freshman.”
“Definitelyafreshman,”thestockyoneadded.“Freshmenareclueless.”
Eveexhaledimpatiently.“Youcaughtme,”shescoffed.“Now,careto
elaborate?”
“I…”thefreckledboystuttered,nervouslylookingbackandforthbetween
ProfessorRichardsandEve.“Ican’t.”
“Youcan’twhat?”
“Tellyou.”
“Why?”Eveglancedoverattheprofessor,whowasstillimmersedinhis lecture.“Hecan’thearus.”
“It’snot himI’mconcernedwith.”
“Thenwhat’stheproblem?”
“Youreallydon’tknowanything?”thesecondboysneered.“Haven’tyou
seenthem?”
“Seenwho?”
“Thepatrolmen,”hesaid.“They’rekindofhardtomiss.Angryguys
walkin’aroundinuniforms,holdingbigguns?”
“Oh.”Evethoughtbacktothemaninmilitaryfatigueswhomshe’dseen
roamingthehallway.“Yes,Isawoneearliertoday.”
“Andthatdidn’tgetyourwheelsturning?”
Evefrowned.“Look,areyougoingtotellmewhat’sgoingonornot?”
Thefreckledboy’sfacedroppedashelookedacrosstheroomonemore
time. He was anxious, that much was clear, and the more panic-stricken his expressionbecame,themoreEvefeltherselfbecometensewithworry.
“TheInterlopers,”hesaidatlast,hisvoiceassoftashecouldpossiblymanage.
“They’retakingpeople.”
Hepaused,hisshoulderscurlingforwardasheleanedinclosertoEve.
“They’retaking chimeras.”
Herheartstopped,frozeninherchestlikeablockofice.“What?”she
muttered.“No,thatcan’tberight.Interlopersdon’tdothat.”
“They
donow.”
“Butthey’re—”
“Notviolent?”heanswered.“Timeshavechanged.”
Sheleanedbackinherchair,staringblanklyattheprojectioninfrontofher.
InterlopersatBillington.
“Unbelievable.”
It was an understatement. In nearly two decades, the Interlopers had never changed their behavior. Even worse, they chose Billington, of all places, to stage their new advances. Eve’s fingers tightened around her scratchpad. The Interloperswerehere—inhernewhome,thehomeshehadworkedsohardto
escape to, the place where she’d planned on starting anew. Could things have possiblygone thiswrong,thisquickly?
Shereleasedherscratchpadanddroppedherhandstohersides.Shewas
beingtooobvious—tooresponsive.Still,sheneededtoknowmore,andwith
thesteadiestvoiceshecouldmuster,sheapproachedtheboyagain.
“Whatdotheydowiththem?”
“Look,Ialreadytoldyoutoomuch,”hehissed,hisnervousness
intensifying.“Besides,Idon’treallyknowanyway.”
“Therehastobeamistake.Ihaven’theardanythingonthenews—”
“WhichisexactlywhyIshouldn’tbetellingyouthis.”Heturnedtofaceher,
lookingherintheeyeforthefirsttimesincetheirconversationbegan.“Andif
you’resmart,youwon’ttellanyone,either.”
“HEY!”
Eveflinched—Richardswasstaringdirectlyatthem.
“AmIinterruptingyourlittleconversation?”hebarked.“Wouldyoulikeme
tostepoutsidesoyoucancontinue?”
“No,sir,”theboyanswered,hisvoicecracking.
“AmIboringyou?Isthattheproblem?”
“No,sir.”
“Professor,”Eveaddedagainstherbetterjudgment,“itwasmyfault.I
startedthewholething.”
Richardssquintedather,hisbodyrigidandlipstightwithanger.Heleaned
forward as if studying Eve, scrutinizing her every pore and hair, creating a detailedimagetoforeverholdinhismind.Finally,afterwhatfeltlike
unbearablehoursofsilence,hefoldedhisarmsandglowered.
“I’lldefinitelyrememberthatwhenI’mgradingyourwork.”
Thestudentsnearhergiggled.EvehadbeenputonDr.Dick’sradar,and
apparentlythatwasaterribleplacetobe.
Whenclasswasfinallydismissed,itwasn’tformulasorequationsthatwere
onEve’smind—theonlywordssherememberedweretheonesutteredbyher
classmate. TheInterlopersweretakingchimeras:chimeraslikeEve.Shecursed herself, not for moving to Billington, but for allowing herself to think that thingsmightbedifferent,normaleven.Endlessquestionsfloodedher
thoughts,andthoughshetriedtoappearcalm,shefeltasifthewonderingand
doubtcouldeatheralive.
As she searched for her Strategic Communication classroom, three men in militaryfatiguesmarchedpasther.Sheglancedatthembriefly— So,theseare the patrolmen. One of them looked as if he was not much older than her; his posturewasconfident,buthiseyeswerefrightened,asifheknewsomegrave
secretthatwasslowlygnawingawayathim.
Evereachedherclassandreluctantlywalkedthroughthedoor.Her
professorwasalreadypresent,jugglinghiscontrollerandpreparinghis
projection. He was an older man with tanned skin and a thick wool sweater covering his round belly. The room itself was the slightest bit smaller and moreintimatethanherpreviousclasses,andEvetookaseatinthebackrow,
eagertoblendinorfadeaway.
ProfessorGuptaturnedtofacehisclassandflashedabrightwhitesmile.
“Communicationissomuchmorethanmerelyconversing,”hebegan,histone
upbeat,hisstomachbouncingashespoke.“Itisanartform.Myjobistoteach
youallhowtobegloriousartistsofcommunication.
“Wewillbecoveringeachofthedifferentfacetsofcommunication:theart
ofproperconversation;howtoperfectdebatingandformtheoccasional
constructiveargument;andofcourse,wewillconquerthebeastthatispublic
speaking.”
Eve’sclassmatesgroaned.Thegirlsittingnexttoherpretendedtogag.
“Where’syourexcitement,class?”heasked.“Iguaranteethatifyouengage
yourself,youwillbevictorious.Ifyouworkhard,Iwillworkhard foryou.I wanttoseeallofyoutriumph.”
“He’ssoadorable,”thegirlbesideEvemurmured.“Ibetwe’llbehearing theseinspirationalquotesallsemester.”
Eveforcedasmilebutdidn’trespond.Hermindwaselsewhere—onthe
Interlopers—andshesimplyhadnointerestinmeaninglessconversation.
“Hecanbeasarticulateandimpassionedashewants,”thegirlcontinued,
“butattheendoftheday,he’sstilljustteachingushowtotalk.Theunderlying theme here is that we’re learning how to make people like us. Kind of manipulative,right?”
Eveshruggedandkepthereyesonhernotes.“Isupposeso.”
“Iguessit’sausefulskillforallofthosepoliticians-in-the-making.”Thegirl noddedherchinatagroupofstudentssittinginthefrontoftheclass,all
ofwhomworenavyblueblazersorsweatervestsandkhakipants.Their
fingersracedacrosstheirscratchpadsastheyjotteddowneverylastwordthat
leftGupta’slips.
“ThefuturepresidentsofAmericarightthere,Godhelpus.Andlook—”
Shepointedtoaboysittingontheoppositesideoftheroom.“BabyWoodgate
won’tevenassociatehimselfwiththem.”
“BabyWoodgate?”
“Youknow,thepresident’sson.MarshallWoodgate.”
noted his occasional HV appearances. He was very tall with dirty blond hair andtwirledanold-fashionedpeninbetweenhisfingersasifcompletelybored
bythelecture.
Thegirlleanedbackcasuallyinherseat.“Ihavethreeclasseswiththeguy,
soeitherI’munconsciouslystalkinghim,orhe’sstalkingme.”
Evechuckledbutquicklyreturnedtohernotes.
“I’mJinJingZhou,”thegirlsaid,“buteveryonecallsmeJJ.”
EvediscreetlyexaminedJJoutofthecornerofhereye.Shewaspetite,
almostanentirefootshorterthanEve,andalittlerougharoundtheedges.Her
soft,ivoryskinwasastarkcontrasttoherjet-blackhair,whichwasshortand
choppywithjaggedbangsandunevenlayers.Herbrowneyeswerelinedwith
black, coordinating perfectly with her purple lipstick, which in turn matched thepurpleandblackchainnecklacesthatpeepedoutofherunbuttonedcollared
shirt. Her entire ensemble appeared deliberately disheveled, as her striped tie wasundoneandhangingaroundherneck,hertrouserswererolleduppastthe
ankles, her wrists were adorned with rows of beaded bracelets, and a pair of dusty,unlacedsneakers—inpurple,naturally—looselyhungfromherfeet.
“Nicetomeetyou,JJ.”
“So,you’renotgoingtotellmeyourname?”
Evesighed.“Eve,”shefinallymumbled.“MynameisEve.”
“Allright,Eve.Whatareyouherefor?”
“God,youmakeitsoundlikeaprisonsentence.”
“Well,itkindofis,atleastforme,”JJexplainedasshekickedherfeetonto
her desk. “My p
arents are waiting for me to ‘ come around.’ You know, be a goodgirlandmakethemproud.Thisistheirversionofboardingschool,or
bootcamp.Lordknowsthey’vealreadytriedallthatcrap.”
“Well,it’ssortoftheoppositeforme,”Evesaid.
“Youtryingtoescapesomething?”
Evehesitated.“Iguessyoucouldsaythat.”
“Dynamic.Icanrespectthat.”Shepaused.“Youneveransweredmy
question, you know. Everyone’s here for a reason. What was your golden ticket?”
“I’mjustsmart.”
“Ah,yes,thenerd-type.Thereareplentyofyouguyshere.”
Evetookastep,albeitaminusculeone,outofhercomfortzone.
“You?”
JJgrinnedsmugly.“YoucouldsayI’mgoodwithcomputers.”
EvecouldfeelJJwatchingher,staringherupanddownthesameway
Madisonhadwhenshe’dfirstmether.Shefelttenseanduneasyandwishedfor
oncethatshecouldsimplybeleftalone.
“Youknow,youandIshouldbefriends,”JJblurtedoutmatter-of-factly.
Evewrinkledhernose.“Why?”
“BecauseIthinkwe’dgetalong.”
“Wherewouldyougetthatidea?Youdon’tknowanythingaboutme.”
“That’snottrue.Ihavegreatobservationskills.Iknowtonsaboutyou.”
“Likewhat?”
“Well,forone,youclearlyhavenointerestinmaking anyfriends,whichleads metobelievethatyou’reantisocialandprobablycynicalaboutpeoplein
general.”
Evesmirked.“Andthatmakesyouwanttobemyfriend?”
JJraisedhereyebrows.“DoIlooklikethekindofpersonwholikes
people?”
EvetookanotherglanceatJJ’soutfit.“Iguessyouhaveapoint.”
“Two,you’vegotringsaroundyourshins,”JJcontinued.“Thattellsmethe
heelsyou’rewearingaren’tyournormalshoechoice,whichmeansyou’re
probablynotallthatgirly.Letmeguess,combatboots?”
Evepaused.“Wow.I’mnotsureifIshouldbeimpressedordisturbed.”
“Whichleadsmetothree:you’resarcastic,whichI’msureissometypeof
defensemechanismtokeeppeopleatadistance.Italsomeansyoudon’t
readilytakeshitfromanyone.”
Forthefirsttimesincetheirconversationbegan,Eveturnedawayfromher
notesandlookedupatJJ.Butsheinstantlyfoundherselfdistracted—through