Chapter Forty-Three
ANGEL SINCLAIR
“Angel, are you asleep?”
I rolled over in the bed and peered down at Frankie on the bottom bunk. She was sitting up in the bed.
“No. I’m awake.”
“Can I come up?” she whispered.
“Sure.” I sat up and crossed my legs to make room for her to sit.
Frankie carefully climbed up the bunk ladder and sat at the foot of my bed, her feet hanging off the bed. “I can’t fall asleep.”
“Me neither.”
“Are you worried about the trials?” she asked.
“No.” I sighed. “Yes.”
I’d been thinking about Jax all night, wondering what would happen to him if he didn’t make UTOP. What would his future hold? How would he manage without the support and love of a family?
Then I thought about Kira. Would her father permit her to be a doctor if she didn’t make the cut? What would happen to Mike, Bo, and Hala if none of them made it, too?
I blew out a breath, deciding to be honest with Frankie. “I’m worried about everyone. I’m also worried about us, the White Knights. The only way this plays out well is if none of us make it.”
Frankie was silent for a moment. “Do you want to go on to UTOP, Angel?”
“Yes.” I lifted my hands, miserable. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do this in the first place. But now that I’m here, a part of me really wants to win one of those two slots. This is just a little taste of what we would get at UTOP, and if I’m honest, I like it. I haven’t been this challenged in my entire life—intellectually or emotionally. It’s…exhilarating. But I don’t want to get a slot at the expense of yours or Wally’s friendship. The others have a lot to lose, too, if they don’t make it.”
She put a hand on my shoulder. “Angel, you aren’t going to lose my friendship, or Wally’s, either, if you get chosen and we don’t, or vice versa. Real friendships don’t just disappear. The others will find their own paths, as well. You heard Mr. Donovan. Candidates are just encouraged to show their skills in different ways within the intelligence agency.”
“Do you want to make it, Frankie?” I asked. “You know, live the life of an operative?”
“Of course I do. That’s why I’m here. But regardless of what happens, it’s all part of my journey to becoming a better person, a productive person.”
“How do you do it?” I twisted my sheet between my fingers. “You seem to go through life without anxiety. But think about it. If one of us went on to UTOP and the rest of us didn’t, things would change, and I was just getting used to having you guys around. I like having friends, Frankie.”
“And your friends like having you.” She hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “But friendships change regardless. It’s called growth. If you went to UTOP without us, it wouldn’t change that.”
I loved her, I really did. But I didn’t believe her. “It might, Frankie. Seriously, it really might. That’s the part that has me worried the most—although I don’t know why I’m stressing so much. I’m not getting one of those two slots. I’ve outright failed two of the trials and sucked at most of the rest other than the gaming challenge.”
“That’s so not true. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re always coming up with original ideas.”
“Yeah, well, executing those ideas is the problem.”
She patted my knee. “Do you know what Charles told me?”
“Charles?” I searched my brain in confusion but came up empty. “Who’s Charles?”
“Charles Mayford, the personal trainer/lifeguard guy with the dark curly hair and pretty blue eyes? For heaven’s sake, Angel, you’ve seen him a dozen times at the gym. He’s really sweet and engaged to be married this summer. His fiancée, Renee, is a homicide detective. Imagine that.”
I searched my memory and came up with a dark-haired guy that I barely remembered. I shook my head. “Is there anyone you don’t know, Frankie?”
“Of course. There are dozens of people here I haven’t met. Yet.” She rolled her neck. “Anyway, Charles gave me an excellent piece of advice. He told me that ‘continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection.’ He’s right. This is a school, Angel. Even if it’s a spy school, no one expects us to be perfect right out of the gate. What they’re looking for is potential. And of all of us, you have the most of that.”
I lifted my hands in astonishment. “You really believe that about me?”
“I really do.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. There was a serious probability that she might be the most intuitive person on the entire planet. She’d said exactly what I needed to hear at this moment—that I had potential, and an honest shot at one of the slots.
“Thank you, Frankie.”
She chuckled and crawled across the bed to give me a hug. “No, thank you, Angel, for the talk. I feel sleepy now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
After she climbed back down and settled into bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. How did she do that? She’d somehow turned around the conversation to make it seem like I was helping her when, in reality, she’d known I needed this talk to get my head straight. That girl had mad people skills I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
I was dang lucky she was my friend.