Chandi Tuesday was so smug and self-satisfied that she did not even notice the change in Emily’s demeanor when she spoke.
“Well, Chandi,” Emily said, putting emphasis on her first name, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“I suppose,” Chandi allowed, peering at Emily suspiciously through her comical glasses.
“Thanks,” Emily said cheerfully, as if they were friends having a chat. “Tell me, have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“What?” Chandi said, gasping audibly.
Emily felt a cruel satisfaction. Whatever precognitive abilities Chandi possessed, they clearly had not helped her anticipate the conversation going in this direction. Her confidence grew commensurately; after all, if Emily had blindsided Chandi once, then she could do it again.
“No offense,” Emily continued casually, twirling a lock of her hair in one hand, “but I’m guessing you’ve never been with a guy, right?”
Chandi’s hand froze halfway on its way to cover her gaping mouth. Emily scored another point for herself on her mental chalkboard. She had figured that any girl raised in Abu Dhabi would have to be a prude, even if she didn’t wear a headscarf.
“Well, Chandi, I have,” Emily continued cheerfully. “And believe me, I know when a guy is interested. And Alex is definitely interested. But with that boy, things are never simple.”
Tuesday’s composure was slipping. If Emily needed any more proof than the way her face had gone pale, she could now make out the faintest indications of a halo over her head, thin and transparent, too faint to read, but unmistakably visible. Emily said a brief mental apology to Alex for the confidence that she was about to break, promising herself that she would make it up to him, and then plunged on ahead.
“Alex has a history, Chandi, and it’s a bad one. Something happened with his family before he came here, and he took the blame. Now he has trouble trusting anyone, much less an empath that he knows has a stake in recruiting him. Despite all that, I have gotten through to him. We had breakfast together this morning, for God’s sake. He is starting to trust me. I know that he likes me. But this isn’t going to happen according to a timetable.”
Chandi cleared her throat, looking uncertainly from one side to the other, as if she was seeking support from invisible companions.
“That all may be as you say, but your instructions were not to make friends with Alexander Warner…”
“Alex,” Emily said firmly. “He likes to be called Alex. Moreover, my instructions were to build a relationship with him, to make him trust me, to make him fall in love with me, if it all possible. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Chandi appeared to be restoring her composure, little by little, her eyes seeking the reassurance of the files in front of her automatically.
“But if this Eerie person has managed to spend the night with him…”
“Nothing happened,” Emily said, shaking her head.
“How do you know?”
“Check the files, Anastasia Martynova was in that room with them,” Emily said, taking a deep breath before saying the thing she knew she would hate herself for later. “Besides, Alex is a virgin.”
Chandi’s eyebrow started its creep upward again, and Emily could not help herself.
“And you know how difficult that makes these things,” she added sweetly.
Chandi blushed, and then turned her attention back to the files, transparently playing for time while she reviewed records. Emily shifted in her seat while she waited for a response, wishing she could leave, not daring to. She managed to keep her feelings of guilt at bay for now. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. Revealing Alex’s secrets was the only way she could see to stay at the Academy.
“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.