Thursday, April 20th

  Location: Wolfpack School

  Result of Mission: Failed (completely embarrassed myself)

  I couldn’t stop replaying Mari’s words from last night. Amateur. The word gnawed at me like a parasite. Was I really that bad of an agent? I wanted to believe otherwise, but I couldn’t convince myself. Yet I also couldn’t deny it. The thought alone pressed down on me like a plastic bag cinched around my head, every breath harder than the last.

  And then there was Greg. Telling him would be the final nail in the coffin. He’d have a field day. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him at all. He would never need to know what a disaster I had been. I had a Perk—a literal superhuman ability—and still managed to smack my head into a pole. What kind of spy did that?

  It was lunchtime, the sprawling cafeteria buzzing with hundreds of conversations. Inside was the food line, outside the snack bar that required a special card, and everywhere else tables crammed with students. Greg and I sat outside, side by side, silent. He glanced at me, then down at my shoes—same worn sneakers I’d worn all year. He didn’t comment.

  “So…” he began. And then stopped.

  “So… what?” I asked. He gestured vaguely, waiting for me to fill the silence.

  “Your mission. How’d it go?”

  I groaned. “We’ve been sitting here this whole time, and now you decide to ask?”

  “That’s because we were talking about other things before. Then we weren’t talking. So I had to say something.” He shrugged, giving me a quick look before staring off again.

  “Sure. Why do you want to know?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” he shot back.

  “Touche,” I muttered.

  “Well…” I exhaled, bracing myself. “We found the two moles pretty quickly. One of the check-in people was—at least I think—a relative of Marcus Lowman. By the time we got there, though, we were taken hostage.”

  “Doing great so far,” Greg said dryly.

  “Hop off,” I hissed, but he just chuckled. “Anyway. Nikki—according to Mari—”

  “Who?”

  I paused, realizing he had no clue. “She’s a teammate. Very rude, very annoying. Useless, really—”

  “Okay, continue,” Greg cut me off.

  I glared at him, disbelief simmering in my stare. He noticed and started snickering.

  “Nikki activated her radio, which let Mari and Tisiah realize what was happening. They came, took down Tilli—but not before Tilli shot Nikki.”

  “Oh…” Greg’s gasp was genuine.

  “Yeah. Then Marcus bolted, and I went after him. And trust me—I was cooking. I was chasing him, pulling out tricks, really using my Perk like it was a movie. Then Marcus—wind major, by the way—slammed me into a pole with air strong enough to break bones. By the time I dragged myself up, guess what I saw? Lowman flattened into the dirt, looking like raw dough someone dropped on the floor. Misfigured and all. Mari had literally hit him with a car. I’m sure the tire marks are gone by now.”

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  Greg raised his brows. “So, what’s the deal? You succeeded.”

  “Yeah. What? You think something happened?” I asked sharply.

  Greg scoffed. “Something always happens.”

  I clenched my jaw. Not because of him, but because of what I had to say. “Mari called me… amateur.”

  “What’s the context?” Greg asked, his tone surprisingly concerned.

  I shrugged. “I asked a question. She said something about Predicament classes, and then called me amateur.”

  “Uh… Connor.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Predicament classes are a sophomore spy thing. We’re freshmen. Freshman spies are literally considered amateur spies.”

  “Even then, she still has this disgusting attitude. That face she makes—like everything stinks—makes me want to strangle her—”

  “Connor!”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “I just… I can’t. I’m tired. Tired of always trying to prove myself. Tired of being judged. Tired of feeling like I’m not enough—”

  “Listen.” Greg’s voice softened. “This isn’t about her approval. It’s about September. You’re doing this for her, right? And if you succeed in September, trust me—everyone’s approval comes with it. You’re good.”

  “I hope so,” I mumbled. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the sun, its rays spilling across the horizon like a promise. Greg patted my back.

  “Stay strong.”

  “Trying to,” I replied.

  After school ended, I portaled back to the academy. I stumbled out of the jump, slammed into a car, and hit the ground hard. I got up fuming, dusted myself off, and stormed into the cafeteria, scanning for Tisiah and Nikki.

  Instead, I found September. And she was walking toward me.

  My pulse went berserk. September—approaching me? Smiling? My face split into a grin before I could stop it.

  “How did your mission go?” she asked.

  “Great!” I answered too fast. “We caught two moles for C.U.B.I. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

  “They most likely will. But I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  Okay, okay, okay. Something was happening. “Hit me,” I said, leaning against a table where the sauce dispensers sat.

  “What do you do when you… like someone—sort of—but you’re not sure if they like you back? Like—follow me here.”

  “Alright.”

  “Actually, let me rephrase. How do you know if someone’s just being friendly, or if they’re trying to get close… to be more than friends?”

  “Is there a specific person?”

  “Yeah. Technically.”

  My eyes widened. “Who—or is it something you don’t wanna say yet?”

  “The latter.”

  “Oh…” The word slipped out soft and deflated, carrying all the disappointment I tried to hide.

  She sat beside me, expression thoughtful. “Because I don’t know how to act.”

  “Do you like m—him?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. The question is, should I?”

  My brain spun so fast I thought steam would come out of my ears.

  “I’m just… concerned,” September admitted. “I’ve always had suitors. But this one—these ones—they’re different.”

  These. Plural. My mind raced. If you know what I’m thinking, you know what I’m thinking.

  “Well,” I said carefully, “whichever one makes you happiest… that’s the one you should choose. That’s my advice.”

  She smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, Connor. At least I know I can go to you sometimes.”

  “All the time,” I blurted, my chest exploding with something cosmic.

  She chuckled and walked away. But standing by the corner was Mari. Her face was a thundercloud, her glare sharp enough to cut.

  I raised my hand in a friendly wave. She didn’t wave back. Her eyes locked on me, unblinking, filled with disdain.

  “You’re going for Malachi’s girl?”

  “What?” My disbelief sharpened every syllable.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. Everyone sees them together. It’s basically established.”

  “Correction.” My voice snapped out before I could stop it. “She came to me for advice.”

  Mari’s tone dripped venom. “Any spy can read a person’s intentions by their eyes, their movements, their voice. You like her. You want her. But you don’t have the guts to say it. That’s good—because it wouldn’t work anyway.”

  I froze. Empty. Trapped in her words, shock hollowing me out.

  Hatred surged in my veins, hot and uncontrollable.

  Mari stepped back, eyes cool and merciless. “I’m just being realistic, Cory.”