“I see,” Chandi said, finally looking up from the files in front of her. “At the very least, you have succeeded in becoming his confidant.”
“Yes. At least.”
“Which leads me to believe that your chances might be better than I had originally suspected,” Chandi said grudgingly. “I will be generous. You have until the start of summer session.”
“What?” Emily asked, shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s not even two months.”
“That’s right,” Chandi confirmed, clearly enjoying paying Emily back for her earlier brashness. “The Hegemony cannot wait any longer. In the meantime, we will put contingency plans in place, in the event that you should fail.”
“You’re already bringing in replacements?” Emily protested. “You’re not giving me a chance…”
“On the contrary,” Chandi said, closing the file in front of her emphatically. “I’m giving you more of a chance than I am inclined to. Whatever you are planning, I suggest you do it soon.”
Vivik had a number of fantasies, extremely private ones, which involved Emily being in his room. Moreover, this was the most intimate contact he had ever had with her, and they were very much alone. And sitting together on his bed, no less.
If he felt a little bitter that she was crying, quite literally into his shoulder, then he also felt that he merited some forgiveness. Vivik patted Emily’s back clumsily, overwhelmed with the normal male confusion and dismay in the face of a woman’s tears, unable to put the fact that he could feel her bra strap underneath her sweater when he touched her back completely out of his mind. It was hard not to feel conflicted when Emily was sitting on his bed, pressing her face against his chest, while sobbing over his friend, classmate and neighbor.
“There, there…” Vivik said lamely, casting about for something comforting to offer her. “Can I get you a tissue or something?”
He regretted the statement as soon as he finished making it, but it Emily carried on crying as if he hadn’t said anything at all, which might have actually been for the best. He let her continue for a few more minutes before he tried again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Vivik asked hesitantly, not at all sure that he wanted her to.
Emily said something unintelligible, her voice muffled and her face still pressed against his damp shirt.
“What?”
Emily sat up, rubbing her eyes and then wordlessly accepting the tissue that Vivik offered her, discreetly wiping her eyes and sniffling. Vivik made a conscious effort not to look at the wet patch on his shirt that stuck uncomfortably to his skin.
“Is that it?” Emily asked him, her eyes wet and trembling, the tissue clutched in her hands.
“Is what it?”
“Her chest!” Emily howled miserably, again burying her head in his shirt, this time using the other shoulder. “Is that it? Is that why he’s so obsessed with her?”
Vivik figured out what they were talking about, and then blushed furiously. He was somewhat glad that Emily was too busy sobbing to notice.
“Ah. Well, we don’t really talk about that sort of thing,” Vivik lied. “But I don’t think it’s that. Anyway,” he said, hesitating when she looked over suddenly, “Eerie’s not really that… big.”
“Then, what is wrong with me?” Emily demanded, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. He handed her another tissue automatically, and wished that he could change his shirt. “Why is he being so weird?”
Vivik weighed his options. He had a strict policy of noninvolvement in cartel affairs, one that had kept him moderately safe until now. Nevertheless, Emily was a friend; moreover, Emily was the girl that he often found himself thinking of right before he fell asleep. He liked Emily, he really did, and he had since the first time they had talked. Vivik wanted her to get what she wanted, and for her to be happy, but he wasn’t sure he wanted that badly enough to help her into Alex’s arms. Besides, Vivik told himself, it wasn’t as if Alex was hurting for attention, feeling increasingly comfortable with the idea. Alex seemed to view Emily as a more of a burden than anything else, much of the time.
“I’m just his friend. We don’t talk about girls much,” Vivik continued on, a little stunned that lying had suddenly become so easy. “And I honestly don’t know what’s up with him and Eerie. Ever since Alex started the Program, he is barely ever around, and when he is, he spends most of his time sleeping. He doesn’t eat with her, and he doesn’t sit next to her in class. Why are you so worried?”
Emily sniffled and looked miserable; curling her bare, tanned legs beneath her, stretched across the top of Vivik’s neatly made bed.
“They know, Vivik,” she said, crumpling the tissue in her hand. “The Hegemony. Chandi Tuesday showed up today and threatened me. They want results, and they know all about Alex and Eerie. Vivik,” she said intensely, seizing his hand in her own, “they are going to kick me out of the Academy. My father will marry me off to some old man, and that will be that.”
Vivik opened his mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. Emily was right, of course, and that was part of it. The other part was that he did not want her to let go of his hand. The way he saw it, it wasn’t even a betrayal of Alex — after all, he had been frank with Vivik many times as to his uncertainty when it came to Emily. Surely, he was not doing anything wrong by spending time with the girl he liked, regardless of her intentions. Was it even possible, he wondered, for Emily’s obsessive quest for Alex to lead her in his direction?
You never know, Vivik thought, until you try, reaching as subtly as possible for the box of tissues.
3
Alex was in the circle, and not at all happy to be there.
No one seemed inclined to ask his opinion on the subject, however, and Mitsuru Aoki’s crimson eyes were latched on to him, so he tried to keep his head clear, his breathing slow, and his hands up. As Steve was right- handed, and favored a lunging uppercut or a right cross, Alex always moved to his left, exactly as Michael had taught him. It was impossible for him to tell how long they had been fighting; time had a way of stretching out in the circle. It didn’t matter, anyway — no one left until Miss Aoki was satisfied.
It was funny without being funny, the way a crudely painted red circle on the floor of an empty room could become his least favorite place to be.
For the most part, though, Alex liked what he was seeing now, through hands wrapped in blood-smeared tape to protect his knuckles. Steve was bigger and stronger, and they were about the same height, but Alex’s arms were a few inches longer, and he had learned to use that to keep Steve at bay, working his jab from just outside Steve’s range, peppering him in the face with fast shots and then stepping back. The jabs weren’t particularly damaging individually, but their cumulative effect was displayed on Steve’s face, from his swollen, bleeding nose to the mouse rising underneath his left eye. Moreover, Steve’s bulk was starting to work against him, stealing oxygen from his blood faster than it could be replaced. He was sweating like a fountain and sucking wind, his face red from exertion.
“You can’t win on points, Alex,” Miss Aoki chided, from where she sat at the periphery of the circle, Margot off to one side looking bored, Renton on the other with a smug expression. “You actually have to hurt him.”
He didn’t rise to the bait, and he didn’t let her distract him from what he was doing. Contrary to popular belief, Alex had a plan.
Actually, it wasn’t really his plan, because Michael had helped him formulate it. After two weeks of getting beat by Steve, over and over, being taken down and battered until Miss Aoki decided he’d had enough, Alex was frustrated enough to ask for help. After all, telepathic simulation or no, it still hurt. Michael’s competitive spirit fired up, and as a result, he had spent the next week drilling him exclusively on the techniques that he was using right now.
His jab wasn’t enough, not by itself, more so when Steve was still energetic. Steve could simply walk right on through it, eating a couple of shots before he got close enough to do damage, but nothing that would actually stop him. However, Michael had pointed out something else that Alex had going for him besides long arms; namely, he
