Page 13 of Flickerstate

He snorts. “No. The Academy doesn’t care how nav works, so long as it does work.”

But you do? Why? What’s in the book?

I choke down the questions. During my demo, Dr. Langmore made her disdain for speculation and theory clear. I suspect she’sthe person I have to impress to get an Archive assistantship. I can’t waste time; I can’t afford the rent in an ivory tower. I have to save Dad. “How do you become a senior Archive assistant?”

He looks directly at me for the first time since I asked his name: an assessing, almost clinical stare. “There’s a competition. Every year there are new senior assistants. And Langmore has a screening procedure for who gets to compete. It happens two weeks into the semester.Whatthe screening is—that changes every time.”

Vik says Langmore like a twelfth-century monk would say “Moloch.” I almost snap,hey, the woman earned her PhD from UNC-Chapel Hill decades before you existed, so that’sDr. Langmoreto you, sexist dipshit. Except sexist dipshit isn’t his vibe. He’s not demeaning an older woman in authority to sound cool. He seems to dislike Dr. Langmore specifically.

I would ask him about that, but other, more important questions are vying for my attention. “Competition? What kind of application process are we talking here?”

He blinks again, amused. “No application. Just the trials. We form teams of three—”

“Teams?”

“There are three assistantship spots. The winning team fills them.”

All around us, students chatter and cutlery clinks—but I almost can’t hear them over the ringing in my ears. I am not great at teamwork. In basketball, I always had trouble anticipating my team. Like, I’d read the court, and I’d pass to where my teammatesshould’ve headed. But as the ball left my hands, they’d break left instead of right, following an intuition totally different from mine, and an opponent would intercept the pass. And those were girls I’d known for years. Now I have to figure out how to win with two total strangers? “Are the teams assigned?”

“We choose our own.”

Shit.

The students who came to the Academy as freshmen, who have the most training, will choose each other. The kids who transferred in as sophomores or juniors, same deal. I’ll have to recruit my team from the other senior transfers, who have as little navigation experience as I do.

The other senior transfers, who I just trolled—and maybe alienated—over how they treated Candace.

Double shit.

“Can you help me?” I blurt.

He blinks yet again—not amused this time. “What?”

“My navigation manifested in February. I’m years behind everyone but the other transfers. I’ll need help. You’re my mentor, so…be a mentor. Tutor me.”

“Oh. No.”

“No?” I yelp.

He shrugs. “Everyone wants the Archive. Me included. You’re my competition. I’m not giving you a leg up.”

This does not make sense. “Why would the Academy assign transfers to mentors who are also their competition?”

“Well, transfers almost never make it past the screening. I guess Langmore doesn’t consider you guys, y’know,realcompetition.”

Oh. Oh hell no.

I stare at Vik’s stupid, handsome face and think:I’llshowyou real competition.

I’ll show Langmore.

I’ll showeveryone.

Chapter Four

After that tense interaction with Vik, I’m relieved when Mirabel regathers the transfers and mentors. We straggle out of the dininghall into the humid August evening.

Vik falls into step with me. Mr. Otherwise Rude is trying for politeness, I think. But his idea of polite company doesn’t involve chitchat. After a silent minute—fidgety on my end, serene on his—I break. “So… You’re from Vermont?”