My mind catapulted to the voice I’d heard earlier. “Someone like me?”
“You know.” Hershey waved her hand. “Overachievers. The stressed-out type.”
“I’m not on the verge of a breakdown,” I said evenly. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Rory, calm down,” Hershey said with a tinny laugh, giving my elbow a squeeze. “I was trying to give you a compliment. You’re a rock star. I just wondered if it ever got to you.”
“Not so far,” I said. My voice was brittle.
We’d reached the stairwell, so I dropped Hershey’s elbow and moved ahead of her, down the stairs. The hall below was more crowded than ours had been, a long stream of second-year girls en route to the dining hall. I joined the current, picking up the pace to get some distance from Hershey.
The girls in front of me were walking in a huddle, watching a video clip on one of their handhelds. The screen was out of view, but I could hear the audio and immediately recognized the voice. It belonged to Griffin Payne, the CEO of Gnosis, and a man whose voice was almost as ubiquitous as his face.
“Our lucky beta testers will receive their Gemini Golds next week,” he was saying. “And the device will officially go on sale six weeks from today.” Gnosis had been hyping its new handheld for more than a year but hadn’t yet announced its release. That explained the video. Gnosis didn’t pay for ads or ad time, instead relying on viral videos like this one to spread the news about their newest products. “And just in case your eyes weren’t green enough with envy already”—Griffin paused for effect—“I give you: the Gemini Gold.”
The girls in front of me all reacted.
“Oooh, adore,” one of them said.
The girl next to her made a face. “You’re joking, right? It’s so cheesy.” Over her shoulder I caught a glimpse of it, a little gold rectangle, no bigger than a matchbook.
“I’m with Amy,” a third one said. “I like it.”
“Maybe it’s a metaphor,” the girl on the end said. “Symbolism disguised as aesthetics.” The other three turned their heads to look at her. She was wearing ill-fitting jeans and was much less put together than they were, bookish bordering on owlish in her round glasses and pageboy haircut. But they seemed to revere her.
“Leave it to Nora to make an academic exercise out of it,” the girl on the end said, but she sounded more envious than mocking. This was the difference between Theden and every other high school, I realized. Here, intelligence was social currency.
“A metaphor for what?” Amy asked.
“Blind veneration,” replied Nora, her owlishness suiting her now. “From the golden calf narrative.” The others gave her blank looks. “In the Bible? We read it in Ancient Lit last year.”
“Hey, I’ll worship at the altar of my Gemini anytime,” Amy said flippantly. “In Lux I trust.”
“And last I checked, Lux couldn’t send plagues on people for their disobedience,” the first girl chimed in. “So there’s that.”
I wanted Nora to respond, to elaborate on what she meant, because I could tell there was more to it, but we’d reached the dining hall, and as the crowd funneled through the double doors, I fell behind. As we shuffled in, I looked to see what Beck was up to. The Forum map showed him at Bartell Drugs on Fourth Avenue downtown. His most recent status was near the top of my newsfeed, posted eleven seconds ago.
@BeckAmbrose: u really had to ask? #yesplease #thereisasanta
Beneath it was a screenshot of his in-box. He’d blurred out every text but one.
@Gnosis: Congratulations, @BeckAmbrose, you have been randomly selected to participate in the beta test for the new Gemini Gold! Reply “yes” to accept.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. That the kid who once let a horse pee on his Gemini (on purpose, for a photo) would get the new model months before the rest of us was some sort of sick karmic joke.
I immediately called him. He picked up on the first ring.
“You’re so jealous right now,” he said, all smug.
“It’s so unfair,” I pouted. “I would be such a better beta tester.”
“No way,” Beck replied. “You’re way too biased.” He was probably right about that.
“So when do you get it?” I asked
“Next week, I think,” Beck said. “I have to sign about a hundred nondisclosure forms first. The whole thing’s a little Willy Wonka. This thing better do my laundry for me with all the hype. Hey, hold on a sec.” I heard fragments of a muffled conversation, then Beck was back. “Hey, Ro, I’ll call you later. I’m in line for the flu vac, and some old dude just totally cut. I gotta show him who’s boss.”
“Good luck with that,” I said with a laugh.
“Ohmygod, I want that man to do bad things to me,” I heard Hershey say. She was on my heels, the Griffin Payne video playing on her screen. He was demonstrating the features of the tiny golden device, which was clipped to a band on his wrist like an old watch.
“Ew, gross,” I replied, making a face. “He’s old enough to be your father!”
“Barely,” Hershey said, stepping past me into the dining hall.
“Rory!” Rachel called from the serving line. She was standing with Isabel, who turned and waved us over.
As we joined them in line, I felt something I’d never felt in the lunchroom back home, which is probably why Beck and I never ate in it.
I felt like I belonged.
8
“CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?”
“Sure,” I said, without looking up. Hershey and I were back in our room, doing homework on our beds. In theory, anyway. Hershey had the TV on, and I was staring blankly at my history textbook, thinking about how a certain someone’s face looked in the flickering light of the lantern that afternoon.
“At lunch, when the dean came to our table, he said you hadn’t let history deter you. What did he mean?”
I kept my eyes on my screen. “Beats me,” I said, and rolled over onto my stomach, away from her.
On the bed next to me, my handheld buzzed. I reached for it, grateful for the distraction. It was a text from an unknown number, and there was no message, just a little paper clip symbol signaling an attachment. I tapped it, and my screen went white. A few seconds later something red flashed on screen.
A pi sign came into focus, and I watched as it circled my screen before stopping at the bottom left corner. A dozen other Greek letters followed it, popping on-screen in little red bursts then circling one another before falling into three horizontal lines.
My name appeared, and the Greek text beneath it morphed into English.
Aurora Aviana Vaughn,
Your presence is requested beneath the left wing
of the Archangel Michael at eleven o’clock tonight.
The choice is yours. Come alone. Tell no one.
Within seconds, the words disappeared and my screen went dark. When I tapped my screen, I was back to my in-box. The message from the unknown sender was gone, along with the attachment accompanying it. The hairs on my arms stood on end.
Go.
Well, that confirmed it. The Doubt was indeed bat-shit crazy, just like science said. The left wing of the Archangel had to mean the sculpture in the cemetery. Like hell I was going to a graveyard by myself at eleven o’clock at night. An hour after curfew. Especially without knowing who had invited me.
Go.
I shoved in my earbuds. If the voice wouldn’t shut up, I’d drown it out.
But as it got later, I started to waver. Whoever sent the message knew my whole name. That eliminated Forum stalkers and total strangers, since my Forum page only said Rory, and nobody—not even my dad—called me Aurora. The Greek letters, the formalness of the language. It had to be something school related. I’d read about Theden’s invite-only campus clubs in the campus brochure but just assumed you had to be a legacy to get in. Then again, I was a legacy. And my class’s only Hepta. Plus, it wasn’t like the message was threatening. There was no demand. Just a request. The choice is yours.