Pru stared. “The Executive General’s top death-machine maker? He’s demo-ing his wares at a beach party?”
“Do you know another Harold Jellicoe? Presumably, he picked the location and the earlier date to attract investment from Incorporated buyers, and to scare influential Barricader guests into voting for UCC-friendly politicians during our next elections. Alex and I need to get eyes on that tech, and we need plus-ones who won’t slow us down, or worse, go whining to our families about what we’re really up to.”
“Then why not just go with each other?”
“A Lamarque and a Park alone together at a party like this get noticed. A Lamarque and a Park fooling around on a group date with other teenagers are just two more dumb rich kids looking for a good time with their fellow privileged socialites.”
Pru crossed her arms. “Fine. If, theoretically speaking, I’m Alex’s plus-one, then who’s yours?”
“Oh,” said Anabel. Her expression shifted just slightly, a twitch of the mouth someone who’d known her less well would have missed. “Cat.”
“Cat?”
“You don’t have to broadcast it for the entire metro, Pru-Wu.”
Pru eyed the faint color rising on Anabel’s cheekbones. “Wait a minute. Are you legitimately into Cat? For real?”
“She’s the most talented weapons engineer we know, and a tremendous asset,” said Anabel, cool voiced, but the blush didn’t abate.
“That wasn’t a no,” Pru pointed out. Anabel had never really expressed a gender preference so far as her paramours went—there had been a lithe blonde girl in their first year at New Columbia Prep, a dimple-cheeked young man of North African extraction their second, and a few once-off dates in between—but they’d all been unilaterally beautiful, charming, and gregarious.
Cat, on the other hand, might actually be a serial killer. Pru could take that bet. She’d seen the way the engineer pried those robot guts apart on Rebelwing’s recording footage.
“Please tell me,” said Pru in pained tones, “that you’re not orchestrating an elaborate espionage mission against UCC Inc.’s most dangerous arms dealer just to get a girl to go out with you.”
“Don’t insult me,” said Anabel. “I’m orchestrating an elaborate espionage mission against UCC Inc.’s most dangerous arms dealer to defend our walls from future wyvern attacks, one-up Jay at family dinners, and get a girl to go out with me.”
“No offense, but that sounds like literally the least romantic date of all time.”
“Don’t be a hater, Pru-Wu. Some girls are best wooed by wine and flowers.” Anabel shrugged. “Others prefer bloody vengeance on war profiteers who exploit child labor. There’s no wrong way to be a woman in love.”
“Why Cat?” Pru blurted out before she could stop herself. “It’s . . . like, she’s good-looking enough, I guess, in this severely well-put-together way? But it’s Cat.”
Anabel tucked her chin in, corners of her mouth pulling upward. The loftiness fell away, like a cape discarded, the girl caught coltish and bare beneath. “She’s never anything other than exactly what she decides to be. It’s like . . . when I watch her work on a piece of engineering, or talk to Alex, or hell, put on that ugly barista apron, she’s always herself. No matter what, she always does precisely what she thinks she ought to.” Anabel shook her head slowly, a sort of wonder lighting her gaze. “That girl, she was born under UCC Inc. rule, and she survived labor camps and disfigurement and displacement— everything that should have broken a person apart. Instead, she literally took those pieces of herself and . . . put them back together into the person she wanted to be. How don’t you fall for that, once you’ve seen it for what it is?”
Pru cast a narrow, assessing gaze at Anabel, the affable queen bee, teenage pride of the Park clan, and everything their schoolmates had ever aspired to be. Pru took in the shy bend of Anabel’s head, the pink in her cheeks, the slightly dopey lift of her mouth.
“Holy shit,” said Pru, agog, “you really are besotted.”
“I’m not besotted,” protested Anabel, nose wrinkling. “That makes it sound so juvenile.”
“Moon-eyed, then,” said Pru, who was starting to enjoy this.
Anabel rolled her eyes extravagantly. “So, does your being an insufferable dick about my feelings mean you’re in, or what?”
That sobered Pru a little. “This is dangerous,” she said bluntly. “Like, all joking aside, you know that, right? A beach party is one thing, but this is a beach party with legit murderers in Armani suits on the guest list.”
“It’s a risk,” admitted Anabel. “But you agreed to pilot Rebelwing for a reason, Pru. And I think we both know that it wasn’t just to pad your university apps. No one goes to university in a continent overrun by Jellicoe’s wyverns. We need to know what he’s planning. We need this information.”
The sudden steel under Anabel’s voice reminded Pru, with a strange wrench in her gut, of Etienne Lamarque. The footage from the dragon’s memory bank blared across the eye of Pru’s mind: Etienne and Gabriel arguing in the darkened hallways of the Head Representative’s Mansion about the future of the continent. The talk of art and war. The worth of one child. The look in Julia’s eyes before she’d died.
Pru inhaled slowly, quelling the sudden weight inside her chest. “Fine.” With grim determination, she began hauling Anabel toward the Academy’s bio labs. “I have three exams I was going to spend this weekend studying for, but who cares? We can go risk life and limb for the liberty of the North American continent instead. If we don’t end up spending the next thirty years as political prisoners, it’ll make great conversation for university interviews.”
“You see, Pru-Wu? I knew I could count on your priorities.”
Pru opened her mouth to retort, but before she could think of a good one, her phone buzzed. Thumbing the screen awake, she read through the text from Alex: Heard about Anabel’s plan for No Man’s Land. A brief typing icon emerged, stopped, emerged again. I hope you’ll help. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Pru’s mouth twitched, torn between scowling and smiling, as she typed back, I don’t know what you take me for, but I’m not about to leave you dateless and stranded at a party full of Incorporated sharks.
A pause. HJ always has an extra trick up his sleeve. There’s more to this demo than attracting buyers.
Like the trick that had killed Alex’s parents. Pru bit her lip. Like what?
I don’t know. Just be careful, ok? Please.
Pru’s fingers hovered over the screen. She considered making a joke. She considered changing the subject: to Anabel and Cat’s budding romance, to the upcoming combat assessment, to anything but the strange clench of dread in Pru’s belly at the memory of Julia and Etienne Lamarque, young, in love, and doomed too soon at Jellicoe’s hands.