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She looked at me hesitantly. “You think so?”

“I think so. I really do.”

Color crossed her cheeks. “They’re also testing me for fluency in Russian, Ukrainian, Belarusian, Polish, Serbian, Croatian, Czech, and French. I hope maybe that will help my scores some.”

“Youhope? You speak all of those languages?” I suddenly felt very outclassed. What did I even do with my time?

“Mostly. French and Czech are my weakest, but I’m completely conversational in all of them.”

“What, no Spanish?” I joked weakly.

“Oh, no, Mike has that covered,” she answered. “What’s your special class, Angel?”

I hated even answering, given that she’d just majorly shown me up. “Cryptology.”

She sighed. “You’re very smart in math and computers.”

“Well, I certainly can’t speak ten languages and cut someone open on the operating table. The sight of blood makes me gag.”

“It’s only nine languages, counting English, and I could help you with the gagging thing.”

That made me smile. It was a little smile, but nonetheless, there’d been a connection. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that because now everything seemed more complicated. Why did she want to have this talk with me in the first place? Were we supposed to be friends, frenemies, or polite acquaintances? How the heck was I supposed to know?

I sighed. “I guess the bottom line is that none of us knowwhothey’re going to pick orhowthey’ll decide. It could be any one of us. Don’t give up now. You’ve got a good a shot at this. In fact, after hearing what you just said, maybe a better shot than most of us. We have one more trial coming up this week. So, get out there and do your best.” It was cheesy, but I said it anyway. “Show them girls can kick butt, too.”

She smiled and nodded. “Fair enough. Only if you do the same.” She held out a hand. “Truce?”

I took her hand and shook it. “Truce. Now, go and make your dad proud.”

Chapter Forty-Two

ANGEL SINCLAIR

The rest of the week continued as usual but with the extra layer of mind games we were playing among ourselves. More classes, more psychological testing, and more anxiety as we got ready to face our final trial.

On Tuesday evening when I was reading in the library, Mike came in and asked if I wanted to play chess. We set up the board and played seven straight games. He crushed me in all seven.

“Wow, you’re really good,” I said, pushing back from the table. “I thought I was a decent player, but you killed it. That’s pretty impressive.”

He smiled and thumped his chest. “Captain of the chess team.”

“I can see why. I’m going to have to up my game before playing you again. By the way, I hear you speak Spanish.”

“Yep. My mom’s from Mexico.Tienes bonitos ojos azules.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You can google it later,” he said, chuckling. He punched me lightly on the arm before packing up the board.

As I walked back to my room, I realized I could be friends with him…witheveryoneat the trials. It was a startling thought for someone like me, who had made her first two friends just over a month ago. Somewhere along the line, I had started to know and like the other candidates, and now we were going to be torn apart.

It totally sucked.

I had a huge math test on Wednesday, which I was pretty sure I aced even though I barely studied. Psychological testing was the strangest. As soon as I came into the room, Mrs. Thompson told me this would be a short session.

“Okay,” I said, cheering up. Any shortening of a class I despised was a plus in my book. “What are we doing?”

“I have just one question to ask you and, unlike our previous sessions, you have permission to think about your answer. I request only that you answer from the heart. Don’t say what you think I want you to say. I want to hear the truth. Then you’re free to go for the rest of the session.”