Page 179 of Burn Bright

“Yeah, his friend is a candidate,” Venus tells us.

Hisfriend.

Okay, so maybe I’m not competing against Xander. But I’m assuming the friend in question is Easton Mulligan, and is he any better? He’s a chess championandXander Hale’s best friend. In my head, beingBen Cobalt’sfriend trumps being Xander’s, but I know not everyone feels that way. I am so fucking biased.

By the deep frown contorting Ben’s face, I think he’s gauging the worrisome levels of tonight. His hand slips to the small of my back as Venus and Pink Overalls hightail it down the hall.

“Isn’t Halloween a Hale thing?” I ask Ben. “Since it’stheLoren Hale’s birthday. Xander’s dad.” I realize how this sounds. “Whiiiich is your uncle.” I nod to myself. “You know this already, but okay, last I talked to Xander, he said he might go home to celebrate with the fam.”

“Yeah, sometimes we all do, but my uncle just had a big fiftieth last Halloween. So this year is more lowkey. There isn’t a giant party. Everyone in New York stayed here.” Ben is grimacing at a thought.

“This is bad, right?” I ask him into a sip of punch. My prospects of being an Honors House member have shot downward.

He expels an annoyed breath. “Why wouldn’t Easton say anything about applying for the Honors House? We see him at Board Game Club.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I mentioned it to him.” I wrack my brain. “I don’t know if I’ve even told Xander…”

Ben’s brows catapult. “Really? It’s been your biggest goal since the start of semester.”

“I don’t advertise my goals on loudspeaker. You know…in case Idon’tachieve them. And that reminds me, is Charlie showing up?”

His hand drops off my back to skate through his hair, smoothing down the wavy strands. “No. I lied and told Guy Abernathy that I could get Charlie to come. It sealed the deal for your invite. But I’m going to make an excuse for Charlie, don’t worry about it. It won’t look poorly on you.” His eyes flit down the hall. He touches my shoulder. “I’m going to go find Xander and clear things up. You…mingle.”

“Mingle,” I say into a nod. “Right.” I do need to pull my weight here. Ben can only do so much, and I need to remember this is an interview masquerading as a Halloween party.

He peels away from my side to venture down the hall, and I meander through the different rooms—a den with a roaring fireplace, a two-story library, an art room filled with pottery wheels and easels, a study room with four giant whiteboards—trying to find one of the eleven members.Hopefullynot all of them are clustered around Easton and Xander.

Slipping into the kitchen, I encounter a small group huddled around a plate of cookies, which I am immediately told are marijuana cookies. The two Honors House members arebakedwhen they greet me.

Elijah and Kiki seem open to chatting with me, and I do my best for what feels like twenty minutes. They were both valedictorians at their private schools. Kiki is an aerospace engineering major and has been dreaming of working for NASA since she was five. Elijah has his sights on a doctorate degree in theoretical physics. It’s in his genes, he tells me. His grandfather was nominated for a Nobel Prize in physics for discovering the surface plasmon.

I feel underequipped here. I’ve never talked about myself like they’re talking about themselves. So easily listing off their accolades and goals as if they’re chatting about their favorite books. And I won’t lie—they sound pretentious as hell. Boastful. Maybe even vain, but it’s not rubbing me the wrong way.

A fine line exists between confidence and arrogance. I wish I just didn’t give a fuck about accidentally overinflating myself. They clearly don’t.

Not caring what other people thinkis a mightier drug than the pot cookies. I’d love to be high on it.

“You’re a sophomore and you’re only eighteen. How did that happen?” Elijah turns the conversation on me. The spotlight both welcome and unwelcome at the same time.This is good, just don’t scowl.

I work my face into what I hope is a gentle smile. “I turned nineteen a couple weeks ago, actually.”

“Happy belated birthday.” Kiki raises a cookie in cheers with a stunningly beautiful smile. She’s Black and has dark brown skin, entrancing hazel eyes, plus the height of a supermodel.

“Thanks.” I take a larger breath and try to maintain eye contact. Neck aches. “I skipped the fifth grade.”

“That’s cool,” Kiki says after a bite. “I skipped sixth and seventh.”

Another candidate named Sanders pipes in, “I didn’t have to skip any grades. My parents sent me to a magnet school. I was, thankfully, challenged from the start.”

“Yeah, but which Ivies did you get into?” Elijah asks.

“Dartmouth and Brown.” Sanders lists, sliding his fingers through his pretty boy brown hair. He’s olive-skinned and a little on the lanky side. “And then the Southern Ivies, of course, Duke. Vanderbilt.”

My pulse races, and my eyes sink to the plate of cookies. Being stoned sounds exceptionally helpful right now. Kiki sees me staring. “Take one.” She pushes the plate toward me.

“I shouldn’t…”

“It’s just a little weed,” Elijah says, much shorter than Sanders and Kiki, so I find myself looking at him. “Last time Guy made them extra strong, and we all passed out. Learned from our mistakes.”