Teddy couldn’t exactly envision a life in public service. Hell, she’d been a public menace most of her life. She glanced around to see if anyone had stirred, but the students seemed glued to their seats.
Clint went on, “Before we continue, I want to introduce you to two other individuals who will direct your first-year training: Professor Amar Dunn, who will be teaching Introduction to Seership.” Clint pointed to a man wearing a sport coat over a band T-shirt. The professor waved. “And Sergeant Rosemary Boyd, our military liaison, who will be teaching your tactical training.” A woman with short brown hair stood and nodded. Sergeant Boyd was definitely going to be a pain in the ass: Teddy didn’t have to be psychic to see that coming.
Teddy let out a breath. This place seemed like it was going to be a lot more work than Clint had let on back in Vegas. She was going to need an extracurricular activity to let off steam. Teddy casually leaned back and turned her head to the right. She saw the hot guy smirk.
“I’m aware that you took different routes to get here,” Clint continued. “Some received glowing recommendations from government officials; some of you ran afoul of the law. None of that matters now. You are all first-year recruits, and that means you start at the same place—the bottom. If you want a space here, you’ll have to earn it. Tomorrow you will each face a series of physical, mental, and psychic-ability exams to determine your suitability for the Whitfield Institute. If you don’t pass those exams, you will be sent home.”
Teddy felt as though her chair had just been kicked out from underneath her. No one had told her about any entrance exams. She had assumed her admittance was automatic—Clint had recruited her, after all. Why hadn’t he mentioned that she had to pass a series of exams to get in? And exactly what was she supposed to tell her parents if she returned home within forty-eight hours? Oh, Whitfield Institute? That bit about you being proud of me? Just kidding.
She toyed again with the idea of bailing. Was an unreliable human lie detector really going to cut it on the front lines? But before she could make a move, someone sat down beside her. Teddy looked over to see the hot guy slouch down in the seat next to hers. Up close, he was even more gorgeous. Tattoos covered his olive skin, wrapping down his arms and up his neck. He looked like the kind of guy who’d enjoy breaking rules.
He leaned toward her. “See something you like?”
She’d known guys like this before. All ego. She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Clint.
“Everything we do here is classified,” Clint continued. “You will not discuss events that occur on this campus with anyone. Not your mother, not your partner, not your best friend. That’s why each of you signed a nondisclosure agreement. We have taken precautions to ensure your discretion. If you stay, you will be confined to this island until Thanksgiving, and if you leave, you will be held to this contract. Furthermore, you will turn in all electronic devices for safekeeping—that includes laptops, tablets, cell phones, and any other gadget that connects you to the world outside this institution.”
Teddy definitely hadn’t signed up for that; a general rumbling in the audience told her that the other recruits were just as distressed by the news. Teddy looked down at her outfit, wondering if she could stash her phone somewhere. Bra, maybe.
“This is for your own safety,” Clint said. “We will not risk having the names or faces of any of our recruits or staff showing up on Snapchat or wherever people are posting online these days. You will receive your official ID—which you will wear on your person at all times and swipe into and out of buildings—only after you’ve turned in your devices. Do not lose your ID. Do not lend it to anyone. Do not alter it in any way. And if any of you decides to play Edward Snowden and leak what’s happening here, I guarantee you will not make it to Russia. We will catch you, and you will be tried for treason. That means years in a federal penitentiary. Trust me, even this place won’t prepare you to survive there.” Clint laughed. “As if the world would believe you, anyway.”
Clint wrapped up with general housekeeping matters, like room assignments, how their belongings would be delivered, where and when dinner would be served. Then he dismissed them.
Teddy rose, turning her back on the hot guy. Right now he was the least of her problems.
Jillian found her in the crowd. “That was intense,” she said.
Teddy looked past her at two girls in the corner who were whining about how unfair it was that the faculty got to keep their cell phones.
“I gave up mine years ago,” Jillian said. “Did you know carrier pigeons were the original text message?”
“Um, yeah. Totally,” Teddy said, playing along. “Listen, I’m going to go check my phone before I turn it in.”
She ducked into the hallway to leave a voicemail for her parents in which she explained that she would be incommunicado for a few months, but they shouldn’t worry. She knew they would anyway. With a sigh, she turned off her phone and dropped it in a bin by the door with everyone else’s.
“If we end up in another Sector Three situation, we can’t even text our loved ones final goodbyes,” said one woman to another in the line ahead of Teddy. The woman tossed her phone into the bin and then twisted her braids into a pile on top of her head.
