“Deep, deep down,” Julian said.
The bedroom door opened again, and Madison stuck her head out, still on the phone. “Julian? Can you come talk to Bill a minute?”
He jumped up. “Sure.” He had to pass by me on his way, and he reached his hand out like he was going to put it on my shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. I might have tensed without even realizing it. I cursed my stupid traitorous body.
He tucked the hand into his pocket, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. God, he was even cuter when he was nervous.
He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me alone with Grayson. I took another bite of chicken. My stomach had filled up faster than usual, and it was close to bursting. I put the plate on the table in front of me.
“Do you think everyone is like Patrick?” I blurted out. “I mean, they joined because they genuinely want to do the right thing.”
Grayson barked out a laugh. “No.”
“No?” I repeated, surprised.
“Of course not. Does everyone join the military because of a burning desire to defend their country? No. That may be part of it, but they’re also thinking about free college and health care and everything else that comes with serving in our armed forces.”
“True.”
“That’s not why you joined?” Grayson asked.
“Uh, well . . .” I tugged at a string on the end of my shirt. “I’m not sure I joined for the right reasons.”
“This isn’t The Bachelor. There are no right reasons.”
I laughed and met his gaze again. His eyes made him seem less intimidating than I’d expected. They were blue, like always, but the screen had never captured how kind they were. Maybe it was intentional, a way to put people at ease, but he looked at me like he genuinely cared what I thought.
“What was your reason?” he asked.
“I just wanted to escape.” The words came out quietly. “I wanted to get away from home.”
“There are a lot of other ways to get away from home,” he said.
“Yes. But this takes me overseas, and there’s a stipend . . .” I shrugged, embarrassed.
“You think everyone has noble intentions for everything? Half of the reason I’m here is to prove everyone wrong.”
“Prove everyone wrong about what?”
“About me. About the technology my company invented. About my entire generation. People think we don’t care about anything.”
“But I bet the other half of your reasons are noble.”
He lifted one shoulder. Yes was the obvious answer.
I thought of Dad, who never considered that I’d join. Who said you will DIE with such conviction, like it was the only possible outcome.
“It’s not such a bad reason,” I said. “Proving everyone wrong.”
Grayson smiled. “No, it’s not.”
12
I found a letter under my door the next morning. I ripped it open.
Congratulations, Clara Pratt!
You’ve been assigned to American team seven.
Please be in the ballroom by eight a.m. with your luggage.
I grinned. Even though I’d known, it felt good to see it in print. It was real. I was going to Paris.
At seven fifteen, room service knocked on my door.
“I didn’t order anything,” I said to the haggard man.
“There’s a note,” he said. “It’s paid for. Can I just put it on the desk?”
I stepped back so he could put the tray down. He practically ran out of the room. I grabbed the note that sat next to the tray.
Congrats, newest member of team seven.
—Julian
I lifted the plate covers to find eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, potatoes, and even a stack of pancakes. There was juice and water and an assortment of butter, syrup, and jam. He’d ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu.
A smile spread across my face. It was sort of embarrassing, this giant sympathy breakfast, but it was also incredibly nice. I was hungry again, and I’d had no idea where my next meal was coming from. I left Julian’s room not long after my conversation with Grayson, and I’d declined Julian’s offer to take some leftovers with me. Madison had been watching me, and something about her piercing stare made it too embarrassing to leave the room with a pile of Chinese food paid for by Julian.
I sat down and dug into the food, tucking Julian’s note into my pocket. I ate as much as I could, then shoved my clothes into my backpack, leaving my room key on the bed, as we’d been instructed.
I headed downstairs in a packed elevator. Everyone around me must have made it, because the energy was almost palpable. The guy next to me kept smiling.
“Your team leader is holding your number!” a guy yelled as we stepped off the elevator. “Please go join him!”
I stepped into the ballroom. I was early, only a handful of people milling around all the team leaders holding signs with numbers. I searched until I found Julian holding 7. He was watching me, and a smile spread across his face as our eyes met. I felt my own lips twitch up as I walked across the ballroom.
“Welcome to team seven,” he said.
“Thank you for the breakfast,” I said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze caught on something behind me.
I turned to see Patrick walking toward us. He grinned and flipped his paper around so I could see AMERICAN TEAM SEVEN on it.
“You’re team seven?” he asked. I nodded with a smile.
“Welcome,” Julian said, extending his hand. “Julian Montgomery.”
“Patrick Choi,” he said, shaking it. He stepped closer to me. “Noah’s on this team too.”
He pointed at Noah, who was making his way over to us.
More people trickled in, and the members of team seven introduced themselves as they wandered over. I’d met or noticed them all yesterday. They must have grouped us into potential teams after the first day.
There was a trend taking shape. We were all young.
And, well, we were not great.
Team seven was:
Me. I had no illusions about my abilities.
Patrick. He had a mark on his forehead from where he’d fallen flat on his face yesterday.
Noah. Admittedly, I hadn’t seen Noah in action during tryouts,
