THE FOLLOWING WEEK at school, Rylin sat perched on a bench at lunch, her tray balanced precariously on her lap as she took a bite of her truffled chicken sandwich.
Sometimes Rylin ate with a couple of other girls from her English class. They’d asked her once, a few weeks ago, and she’d come to enjoy their company; they spoke in soft voices, and didn’t make any demands of her outside the cafeteria. But today she’d wanted a moment to herself. She picked idly at her sandwich’s orange citrus loaf, letting her mind wander.
School had definitely gotten better. There were still awful parts, of course: Rylin didn’t think she would ever enjoy calculus, with its convoluted equations and funny-looking Greek letters; and she kept getting odd looks on the morning express lift, when she stepped on board in her preppy pleated uniform. Still, she’d grown accustomed to her routine, and at least now she could find her way around campus without help from Cord.
Friday afternoon had quickly become the highlight of Rylin’s week—not because of the weekend, but because of holography class. She was now that student that she and Lux used to make fun of, the one who constantly raised her hand, eager to volunteer information or ask questions. Rylin couldn’t help it; she loved the class. It wasn’t just Xiayne, though he was part of it, full of constant praise and encouragement, and giving her straight As ever since their long editing session after school that day. She’d watched all his films by now—some of them multiple times.
Rylin had found to her surprise that she loved holography. She loved that she could see the direct result of every lesson, how each new technique or idea made her work immediately cleaner and sharper and more impactful. She’d never paid so much attention in a class before. Not even the sight of Cord, shifting restively in the seat in front of her, could ruin it.
And she couldn’t stop thinking that maybe someday, if she got good enough, she could make a holo that would explain her feelings to Cord. Her words had clearly failed her, but wasn’t that what holography was for—to convey the things that words failed to?
Rylin stretched out her legs, curling her toes in the new black flats she’d splurged on, which were a little girly for her taste, but she couldn’t handle the blisters from Chrissa’s shoes. She glanced around at the other kids in the courtyard. A few meters away, some boys were playing a game she’d never seen, where they kicked around a small beanbag with their feet and tried to keep it from hitting the ground. A group of freshman girls—the popular ones, Rylin could tell by their shining hair and unimpressed attitudes—lounged in the nearby grass, pretending not to notice the boys but clearly preening for their benefit.
Across the way, she saw a familiar figure bobbing through the crowd. Rylin immediately sat up straighter and tossed back her head, acting just like those stupid freshman girls. Would she ever be able to see Cord Anderton without feeling a nervous twist in her stomach?
He glanced up and caught her staring. Crap. She tried to look down, to pretend to be reading something on her tablet, anything; but he was coming over—
“Rylin. Thank god I found you, I’ve been looking everywhere.”
She startled to attention as Xiayne slid onto the bench next to her. Cord had halted in his tracks and turned away.
“Hi,” she said cautiously. “Is everything okay?” It wasn’t even a Friday. What was Xiayne doing on campus—and looking for her?
Xiayne grimaced. He was sitting very close, close enough for Rylin to see the stubble breaking through his swarthy skin; the way his lashes fanned out, long and damp around his sage-green eyes.
“My film is a nightmare. The DP just quit, so I’ve had to bump up his assistant, who I’m not sure is ready, but then I don’t have much of a choice. I’ve got barely a week before my star leaves to shoot her next holo,” he complained. “Long story short, I’m in the market for a new filming assistant.”
“That all sounds like a mess. I’m sorry,” Rylin replied.
“I’m not,” he said evenly. “Because now it means I can offer the job to you. What do you say—will you come to LA with me?”
“What?”
Xiayne leaned forward a little, his words spilling over one another, fast and intense. “Rylin, you’re an incredibly promising holography student. Sure, I could hire someone out in LA, if all I wanted was to get the film done. But I’d also love to help start your career.” He smiled. “You’ve got a lot of natural talent, but there’s still so much for you to learn. Which is why you’d benefit from some practical experience.”
“You want me to quit school to come work for you?” What about my scholarship? her dazed mind thought, but Xiayne was already answering her unasked question.
“Berkeley has a system for things like this. Hell, last year one of your classmates took a month off to go scuba in the Everglades, study the underwater biologics or something. It’s a quick shoot; I’ve already filed it as a weeklong internship. And don’t worry, all your travel costs are covered by the arts department,” he added.
“But what would I be doing, exactly?”
“Can I have one of those?” Xiayne gestured to her package of choco-berry cookies. Rylin held it out, confused, and he grabbed one, taking an enormous bite. Then he wiped the gooey chocolate onto his jeans and spoke again. “Don’t get me wrong, Rylin, being an assistant is hard work. A lot of fetching and carrying, helping set the lighting, managing the talent. They can be … difficult.” He gave a little eye roll to emphasize just how difficult. “But it’s also rewarding. I started just like this, back in the day. I promise it all feels worth it when you see your name in lights at the end of the film.”
Rylin felt a sudden flutter in her chest. “You’d put my name in the credits?”
“Of course I would. I do that for all my assistants.”
Rylin thought guiltily of Chrissa, who would be alone for an entire week; but Chrissa was self-sufficient enough to handle things on her own. And Chrissa would want her to go. She was so proud that Rylin was back in school, and actually enjoying it.
Why not? She owed herself the opportunity to at least try. “What do I need to do?”
Xiayne grinned. “I already sent the paperwork to you. Just have one of your parents sign it, and we’re good to go.”
“Actually, I don’t have any parents at home. I’m a legal adult,” Rylin declared. She pulled up her tablet, quickly located the file, and held her thumb to the bright blue circle to stamp the document. A moment later, the screen flashed green in approval.
“You don’t have any parents at home?” Xiayne repeated, puzzled.
“My mom died a couple of years ago. Since then, it’s just been me and my sister. I was working the last few years. That’s why I’m a little behind on academics.” For once, Rylin didn’t feel embarrassed admitting that. Of all people, Xiayne would understand—hadn’t he just said he’d worked his way up from nothing?
Xiayne nodded. “You continue to impress me, Rylin,” he said, and stood up with a smile. He looked so young when he smiled, barely older than Rylin, with his soft features and shaggy dark curls. “If you’re a legal adult, I guess I have to pay you.”
“Oh, you don’t—”
“It’s only minimum wage, but if you have a problem, take it up with the union,” he went on, and Rylin laughed.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He nodded, his eyes dancing. “We leave tomorrow morning on the ’loop. I’ll send you your ticket.”
The last time she’d been on one of the Hyperloop trains was with Cord, to Paris, but Rylin reminded herself not to think about that.
Later that afternoon, Rylin walked into the front office for her mandatory meeting with the upper-school dean. Apparently the dean needed to personally approve every request for academic absence, even for a school-sponsored internship.
“Take a seat,” the front-desk attendant intoned, bored. Rylin sank onto the couch and pulled up a map of LA on her tablet, then began to zoom over various parts, trying to familiarize herself with the city. Not that she would probably see any of it except the film lot, she thought eagerly.
She felt worlds different from the girl who’d walked in here on her first day, all anxiety and uncertainty. Now she just felt excited, and curious about the week ahead.
“We can’t keep running into each other like this.” Cord took the seat next to her.
“You can’t keep stalking me like this,” Rylin retorted, her mood buoyed by her good news.
Cord grinned. “If I wanted to stalk you, trust me, I could do better than the school’s front office.”
They both fell silent. Rylin willed herself not to look at him, to look down at her tablet, at the stupid posters on the wall with inspirational quotes and images of mountains, anything but at Cord. She lasted a full eight seconds.
When she couldn’t take it anymore and turned in his direction, she caught Cord staring at her, with an expression of mingled wariness and curiosity and—she hoped—a glimmer of attraction. For a moment it seemed to Rylin that no time had passed, that it was the olden days again, back when he was deciding whether or not to trust her the first time. Back when Cord hadn’t been a wealthy, arrogant boy set to inherit billions and she hadn’t been the girl who cleaned his bathrooms—but instead, somehow, they were just a boy and a girl, talking in quiet tones about the losses they had both suffered.
She wondered if they would ever be that way again.
“How did your fencing match go?” Cord asked.
“Oh, you know, I’m ruthless when it comes to fighting,” Rylin teased.
She’d meant it as a joke, but Cord didn’t laugh, and Rylin wondered if she’d hit too close to home. After all, the things she’d said to him the night Eris died had been cruel, and ruthless.
“What are you here for, anyway?” he went on, after a moment.
“I’m here to meet with the dean.” She couldn’t keep the pride from her voice. “I’m missing a week of school for a work-study program with Xiayne. I’ll be a filming assistant on his new holo.”
“I thought you were here on scholarship. Shouldn’t you be studying, not jetting off to LA?”
Rylin recoiled at the harsh phrasing. “This is a great opportunity. It’s rare that students our age get to actually work on set, get hands-on experience.”
“Or maybe it’s a chance for Xiayne to get some free labor. He’s not paying you, is he?” Cord said, and she was surprised by the venom in his tone.
“Actually, he is.” She hated how defensive she sounded.
“Well, I’m glad he’s taken such a special interest in you.”
“Cord—” Rylin broke off, not quite certain what she was about to say, but the dean’s door swung open before she could answer.
“Rylin Myers, sorry for the wait! Come on in,” his voice boomed.
Rylin looked searchingly at Cord, feeling both saddened and hurt. But he was shaking his head. “Whatever, Rylin. God knows you don’t owe me an explanation. Have fun taking teacher’s pet to a whole new level.”
Suddenly Rylin’s mind was able to form sentences again. “Not everyone is as cynical as you are, Cord. You should try being happy for me sometime.”
She squared her shoulders and walked away before he could reply.