Page 17 of Flickerstate

“Lay out your rationale,” she says. “Why would I team up with you if you’re crazy enough to team up with me?”

I hate it when people insult my rationality. I am supremely rational! “You’re assuming I should bag experienced teammates, kids who’ve been at the Academy all four years. But come on. No four-year kid smarter than a sandwich would let a new transfer onto their team.”

“You have a point. But why, of all transfers, me?”

“Your parents hired you a tutor as soon as your navigation manifested, right?”

Candace frowns. “Didn’t yours?”

“How much did your tutor charge?”

“I don’t know, why?”

I put on my blandest expression and wait.

After a second, she looks caught out. “I see.”

“Yeah. Besides, youaren’ta random transfer. Your stepbrother’s an Academy long-hauler. Before that, he must’ve had a tutor too, from age—what?”

“Seven.”

Seven. The people I’m up against. “He owes you for telling Mirabel about your bites. Guilt him into joining our team.”

“I do enjoy bossing Griff around,” Candace admits. “And my stepdad would certainly prefer if we could both be on the winningteam—he loves winners. But suppose Griffin says no. How will we find a third teammate when no one wants to stand near me?”

“Cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She smiles, a glimmer of teeth. “Fine. Deal.”

We meet in the middle of the carpet to shake on it.

Chapter Five

Before bed, I call Jo and fill her in on my day: my unhelpful peer mentor, my blockmate with healed bites. By the time we finish,I’m yawning hard.

But once I fall asleep, the silence keeps waking me. I’m too used to city noise. Every few hours, I float into consciousness, ears straining for familiar sounds: Jo’s breathing, night traffic, far-off sirens. Quiet presses down on me like a smothering hand. When gray light creeps around my curtain, I call it. My head aches with exhaustion, but nervous energy burns in my chest. I won’t get back to sleep. Might as well hop to it.

The day blurs by while I sprint between cathedral-kitsch buildings chasing my classes. At 3:57 p.m., I jog into the navigation building. Candace sits alone—the only student sitting alone, though the space swarms with seniors—at a table across the room.

Vik walks through the door behind Candace, sees the other kids ignoring her, and takes the seat next to hers.

Okay. Point to Vik.

I sit down on Candace’s other side. One table over, Mirabel glances up. When she spots me with Candace, she glowers and turns primly forward.

Griffin’s next to Mirabel. I nod to him and raise an eyebrow at Candace. She scowls and shakes her head.

Damn it. We need a third teammate fast.

I glance back at Griffin and Mirabel. They’re close-talking, her hair brushing his arm on the table. Guess that’s an alliance to watch out for.

Bree busts through the nearest door and plops onto the last lab stool at our table. “Do you guys feel like you’ve been running everywhere since you opened your eyes? I was late to first period, and I didn’t even eat breakfast. Candace, next time I sleep through my alarm, would you mind waking me up before you leave?”

“I’m not an alarm clock,” Candace says.

Bree laughs. “I know. It’s just, I’m a corpse when I sleep. When I was little, my mom used to shake me like a smoothie every morning so I wouldn’t make us late for school.”

In the winters, when our warped floor turned to ice, Jo would refuse to leave her warm bed. Mom deputized me to drag her into the world by the ankles. Jo and I made a rough game of it, her kicking, me grabbing her skinny feet. We had a point system. I smile, remembering.