Page 50 of The Ruling Class

“And,” I said, “I wasn’t really that impressed.”

Henry’s lips ticked slightly upward. “I get the sense that you might be a hard girl to impress.”

That almost sounded like a compliment.

Henry seemed to realize that, too. “In all likelihood,” he said abruptly, thumbing through the file he’d compiled and tearing his eyes away from mine, “we’re looking for someone on the court of appeals—DC circuit is most likely, but I wouldn’t rule any of the others out.”

My mind went immediately to Judge Pierce. Was he on the court of appeals?

Ivy told me to stay out of it, I thought. But she could hardly blame me for doing a school assignment, now, could she? As Henry briefly outlined the credentials of his top couple of candidates, I pulled Pierce’s information up on my laptop. I stared at the photograph that popped up. He was balding, in his early fifties. He stared back at me from the screen: deep-set eyes, solemn expression, a face you could trust.

You’ll get your money when I get my nomination.

I forced my eyes away from the photo and read. Pierce had a seat on the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit. Prior to that, he’d served as the attorney general for the state of Arizona.

“Pierce.” Asher came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. “An interesting choice, to be sure.”

I forced my face to stay perfectly neutral. Asher was clearly fishing for information—and not about the assignment. I closed the window.

“Don’t you have your own project to be working on?” Henry asked Asher mildly.

“Indeed I do,” Asher replied, his eyes still on me. “Sadly, however, my partner is absent. Woe be to the Asher who is forced to work on his own.”

“I mourn for you,” Henry said dryly.

“So whatdowe know about Pierce?” Asher ignored Henry’s sarcastic tone and helped himself to the chair next to mine. He leaned over, plunking his elbows down on my desk.

“Nothing,” I said, reaching for one of the papers in Henry’s file.

Asher gave me a look. “Somehow, I find myself doubting that’s true.”

I felt Henry’s eyes on us then. I gave Asher alook.

“Vivvie Bharani has been absent for over a week.” Emilia didn’t bother with a hello. She slid into the seat next to Henry’s. “Last year, she was the only person in our grade other than me to have perfect attendance. Am I the only one who finds that strange?”

“Is that an expression of concern?” Asher asked his twin, arching an eyebrow at her.

“I can be concerned,” Emilia told him, sounding almost insulted. “I’m a very empathetic person.”

Asher and Henry exchanged a glance over her head. Clearly, empathy hadneverbeen Emilia’s strong suit.

“I heard Vivvie’s father got fired,” Emilia continued bluntly.

I darted a glance at Asher.

“And where might you have heard that?” he asked.

“From a freshman whose mom works at theWashington Post.”

The idea of people knowing that Vivvie’s father had lost his position at the White House made me queasy.

“I mean, technically, he wasn’t fired,” Emilia clarified. “He was reassigned. But precision of language has never been the gossip mill’s forte, and I guess anything’s a pretty big step down after the White House.”

Henry stood up abruptly. “Whatever position her father has or does not have, can we agree that has little to nothing to do with Vivvie?”

Emilia blanched as if he’d slapped her. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Why would I?” Henry replied. His voice was calm, but I could see the tension in his neck. He had to have noticed the timing: Vivvie’s dad getting demoted shortly after operating on his grandfather.