“Like I said, Leda isn’t my biggest fan. And with what she knows …” He shifted uncomfortably, and swallowed. “I really need her to not tell anyone. If she trusted me—or at least, if she stopped despising me—maybe she wouldn’t tell.”

Cynthia waited, but he didn’t continue. “What would happen, if she told what she knows?” she prodded.

“It would be very, very bad.”

Cynthia let out a deep breath. “For the record, I don’t like this at all.”

“The record has been duly noted,” Watt assured her, smiling in relief. “So you’ll help?”

“I’ll try my best. I can’t make any promises,” Cynthia warned. Watt nodded, but the weight pressing down on his chest already felt lighter, just from the knowledge that Cynthia was here, and willing to try.

“First things first,” she declared. “When are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should probably ask her to hang out, so that you can take charge of the situation, reset the dynamic,” Cynthia suggested.

The thought of voluntarily hanging out with Leda was so strange to Watt that he visibly flinched. Cynthia caught the expression and rolled her eyes. “Watt, this girl won’t stop hating you if she doesn’t ever spend time with you. Now, what are you going to say when you see her?”

“Hi, Leda,” he tried.

“Wow,” Cynthia deadpanned. “You overwhelm me with your incredible wit and conversational skills.”

“What am I supposed to say?” he burst out, exasperated. “All I want is not to go to jail!”

Cynthia went very quiet and still. Watt realized with a sinking feeling that he’d said too much.

“Jail, Watt?” she asked. He nodded miserably.

Cynthia closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they shone with a new resolve. “You’re going to have to be convincing as hell.” She stood up and walked a few steps toward the museum, then turned around. “Pretend I’m Leda and I just arrived. Say something nice to me. Not just ‘Hi, Leda.’”

Compliment her, Nadia offered. “Leda,” Watt began, suppressing a smile in spite of everything at the silliness of the role-play. “It’s great to see you.”

“That’s a start. This time, try it without sounding like you’re getting a full-body exam from a med-bot.”

Watt blinked at her in surprise.

“Come on,” Cynthia urged. “You’re going to have to be a better liar to make this highlier girl believe you. Think of someone else when you say the words, if it helps, but say it like you mean it.”

Nadia automatically projected a series of images onto his contacts—some holo-celebrities that Watt had always found cute; and a picture of Avery, from the one night they actually went out, when she was wearing that slinky mirrored gown and his incandescent behind her ear. Not helping, Nadia, he thought angrily, and she backed off, chastened. He wasn’t in the mood to think about Avery. He wasn’t sure he ever would be.

Watt looked up again at Cynthia, who was still standing there, hand on hip. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “Hey there, Leda.” He stood and moved aside as if to offer her a nonexistent chair. He managed to brush her arm as she maneuvered past him, his touch so slight that it could have been an accident. “You look fantastic tonight,” he whispered into her ear, as if imparting some delicious secret.

Cynthia was absolutely still, her mouth a silent O. Watt was quite certain that he saw her shiver a little. He smiled, pleased with himself. Nice to know I’ve still got it, right? he thought to Nadia, who sent him a sarcastic thumbs-up in response.

“Watt …” Cynthia said slowly, shaking her head a little. “Cut the seduction crap. I thought you wanted this girl to trust you, not jump into bed with you.”

That sounded like a trick question, so Watt didn’t answer it.

“Girls have feelings, Watt.” Cynthia looked down, toying with her purse, running its metal chain idly back and forth through her palms. “Feelings that can be easily hurt. You should remember that.”

“I’m sorry,” Watt said, not quite sure why he was apologizing, but feeling that it was needed. He sensed that there was some meaning behind her words, yet he couldn’t suss it out, and Nadia wasn’t offering anything.

Cynthia shook her head, and the moment passed. “I’m the one who should feel sorry for you. From everything you’ve told me, this isn’t going to be easy.”

She muttered a command to summon a waiter-bot from the museum’s indoor café, and one of them floated over, a menu projected on its holo-screen. Cynthia typed a few keystrokes.

“We’re gonna be here awhile,” she said, gesturing for Watt to lean forward and pay. “The least you can do is buy me some freaking cake.”

An hour and a half later, Watt felt as physically drained as if he’d been hacking all day. His very brain felt sore. But he had to admit, Nadia had been right to suggest that he ask Cynthia for advice. He wondered why he hadn’t ever asked for her help before.

She was sitting cross-legged on the bench, a few crumbs of red velvet cake on the plate between them. “Okay,” she said again, coaching him through the lines they’d practiced. “And what do you say next?”

Watt looked Cynthia straight in the eyes—intently, as if he could see into her very soul. “Leda. I hope you know you can trust me. After everything we’ve been through, you can tell me anything,” he said solemnly.

Cynthia was quiet for a moment, and Watt thought he’d screwed it up yet again, but then she was laughing. The “after everything we’ve been through” line had been her idea, and though Watt wasn’t quite sure about it, it did have a nice flourish. “God, I’m good,” Cynthia boasted. “My work here is done.”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Watt said as his contacts lit up with an incoming flicker. Now he was the one laughing, “Leda just beat me to the punch.”

“Read me the message!” Cynthia demanded.

“‘Watt. I need you to be my date to the Hudson Conservancy Ball next weekend. Don’t bother giving me any excuses, we both know you already have the tux. You can pick me up at eight. The theme is Under the Sea.’”

“Wow. How romantic,” Cynthia said sarcastically.

“Why did it have to be another formal event?” Watt groaned, standing up and offering his friend a hand. “These people can’t be for real.”

“Please, Watt,” Cynthia said, her hand still in his, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable. “Be careful with this girl.”

He nodded, knowing that she was right. Spending time with Leda was a dangerous gamble.

He might set himself free—or he might destroy life as he knew it.

RYLIN

RYLIN BIT BACK a curse as she turned another corner, only to end up exactly where she’d started. What the hell? she thought wildly. Why did all the halls in this school have to look completely identical?

She spun a slow circle, trying yet again to remember the map she’d seen on her school-issued tablet before it died. She’d forgotten to charge it, which was especially embarrassing given all the ways it could possibly charge—jacked into the wall, sitting out in the sun, even next to her skin, charging off the thermal energy of her own body heat. The school’s location-holos kept popping up before her at every corner and doorway, but they didn’t help; they just listed the names of each room, which had all been gifted by wealthy donors. Rylin didn’t care about the Fernandez Room, or the Mill-Vehra Dance Studio. She just needed to find the fencing piste, whatever the hell that was, because she was supposed to meet Leda there to film something for their holography project.

A group of boys appeared at the end of the hallway ahead, all of them sweaty and wearing shoulder pads. Rylin realized with a start that they were coming from hockey practice, and that one of them was Cord.

She started to backtrack, but it was too late—Cord had already looked up. He murmured something to the other boys and came to walk next to her.