“So what’s the update? Now that you’re a highlier, hasn’t he realized he wants you back?”

“I’m not a highlier,” Rylin protested, and Lux laughed.

“That’s true. No self-respecting highlier would be caught dead in a dirty makeout ViewBox, eating a week’s worth of Popper Chips,” she agreed. But she wasn’t done asking about Cord. “Seriously, though, Ry. You’ll never learn the truth if you don’t ask. Why haven’t you?”

Lux had a point, Rylin realized. She needed to stop guessing at Cord’s feelings and just act. She thought of what Leda had said this afternoon, about the party, and gave a reluctant smile. “You’re right,” she admitted, and got out her tablet, pronouncing a phrase she never thought she would say.

“Ping to Leda Cole.”

WATT

“TAKE NOTES. AND be careful. We’re so proud of you,” said Watt’s dad, Rashid, giving Watt a rough slap on the back.

“Ping us if there’s anything you need.” Watt’s mom, Shirin, tightened the scarf she’d insisted he wear; a silly gesture since the Tower was temperature controlled, but Watt knew she was just trying to keep from crying. Then she gave up and pulled Watt into a hug, her voice breaking. “We love you so much.”

Watt tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up at this elaborate farewell. His parents thought he was heading to a college weekend at the University of Albany. He’d considered telling them he was at Derrick’s house, the excuse he’d used when he went to Leda’s rehab check-in, but felt like he’d barely gotten away with it last time and didn’t want to tempt fate.

The Bakradis had been overjoyed at his “news.” They were so worried about his obsession with MIT—they feared he might not get in, that he would be devastated and, worse, have no backup schools—and since Albany was a state school, he would pay in-state tuition. They were too excited to even question his announcement, or ask for any kind of proof. Watt felt awful, but what choice did he really have? They certainly wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea of his jetting off to Dubai with a highlier girl. Especially since he’d already told them that Leda was a classmate, and would have to explain why he’d lied about that.

Honestly, if he didn’t have Nadia, Watt wasn’t sure how he would keep track of all the secrets and half-truths and lies anymore.

Zahra and Amir came barreling down the hall, all squeals and high-pitched laughter, ponytails and shirttails flying. Watt leaned down to hug them both. Then with a final murmured farewell he was out the door, pulling his dad’s low-tech suitcase—the same one he’d had to borrow for the rehab weekend—behind him.

He rounded the corner onto the main avenue only to nearly collide with Cynthia, who’d been turning onto Watt’s street, her enormous school tote over one arm. Watt remembered with a sudden, sinking feeling that he’d had plans to study with Cynthia and Derrick today.

“Cyn, I completely forgot.” Nadia, why didn’t you remind me? The whole point of having a quantum computer in your brain was to be one step ahead of other people, not behind.

I’m sorry, Nadia said, but she didn’t seem very sorry. Watt couldn’t help but wonder if she was purposefully interfering. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about this Dubai trip, though Watt wasn’t sure why.

He gave Cynthia his best, most charming smile—the one that had gotten him out of detentions and homework assignments and his mom’s anger. But it had never really worked on Cyn. “I’m actually leaving town,” he told her, forging ahead. “I’m so sorry I forgot to tell you.”

“Leaving town?” Cynthia repeated, a sarcastic emphasis on the phrase, and Watt winced at his choice of words. He and Cynthia weren’t the type of people to be casually “leaving town,” and they both knew it. “Where are you going?” she asked slowly.

Unlike his parents, Cynthia wasn’t someone Watt dared lie to. “Dubai,” he admitted.

“With Leda.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded.

A crowd of younger kids streamed past, loud and rowdy. Cynthia grabbed Watt by the shoulders and pulled him aside, to a little retail corner that was half McBurger King and half a small pharmacy. Watt could hear the fast-food takeout-bot asking one of the customers whether he wanted fries with that.

“What the hell, Watt?” Cynthia snapped. Anger crackled over her skin like lightning, breaking through her normally cool demeanor. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. Watt was startled to realize, for the first time in his life, that Cynthia was quite pretty. Why hadn’t he ever seen it before?

“Look, it’s a long story,” he began, but Cynthia cut him off.

“You’ve been acting strange for weeks, you let her drag you away from school yesterday, and now this? What’s going on between you two?”

“I told you, she’s got something on me,” Watt said impatiently. But he knew that it had become more than that. He thought of Leda in his bed earlier that morning—propped up on one elbow, looking down at him, her hair long and loose around her shoulders. Whatever’s going on between us, it’s just physical, he told himself firmly. He still wanted what he’d always wanted: to make her trust him enough to confess the truth to him, about what had happened on the roof, so he could get out from under her thumb once and for all.

And now he was actually getting close. Soon enough it would all be over, and he wouldn’t have to spend any more time with Leda—could send her to jail, if he wanted.

For some reason he thought of the way she’d sounded this morning, the hopeful twang in her voice when she’d asked him to Dubai. He shook the memory away, unbidden.

“What does she have on you? It can’t be this bad,” Cynthia demanded.

“It’s complicated.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll help. Come on, we’re two of the smartest people I know! Don’t you think that together, we could beat Leda Cole?”

“Cynthia, it’s not that, it’s just—I don’t want to get you involved.”

Cynthia let out a sigh. Little holographic Happy Meal ads kept popping up behind her head, making Watt strangely want to laugh.

“Don’t you see that I’m already involved, whether you like it or not? Watt, I can’t help you if you won’t let me!” she exclaimed. “And I’m sick of this. I never get to see you anymore. You’re with Leda all the time.”

“I told you, it’s complicated,” Watt said again, feeling like a broken record.

Cynthia took a small step forward—and Watt knew, suddenly, that they had come to a crossroads in their friendship. “You like her, don’t you?” Cynthia asked.

“No,” he said quickly.

“If you don’t like her, then don’t go to Dubai.” Cynthia’s whole body was taut, as if she were a drawn bowstring. “Stay away from her. Stay with me.” The last sentence was uttered almost under her breath, but there was no mistaking its meaning.

On some level, Watt had known this was coming for a while now. What he hadn’t known was what he would say.

He stood there, looking at his friend—a brilliant, fascinating, remarkable girl, who lived in his world and knew where he came from, the type of girl his parents would love for him to date—and he still didn’t know.

“Cynthia …” he faltered.

Maybe because she was sick of waiting, or maybe because she didn’t want to hear what he had to say next, she rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.

Watt was surprised into kissing her back. He was surprised by this new version of Cynthia, who held him tighter and kissed him more fiercely than he’d expected.

“So?” she asked when she finally stepped away, looking vulnerable and afraid and familiar and like a stranger.

Watt shook his head. There were a million things he wanted to say, but he didn’t know which of them was right. He felt that he didn’t know anything anymore. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she told him. “If you leave now, you’re choosing her.”