“Sucking up to the Earth kids. First saving Angelyn, then George. Lots of grateful, influential people lining up behind you. Pretty soon even Stanton won’t be able to give you a hard time.”
I stared. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you keep playing dumb. Makes you endearing. I get it.”
The game Charles kept talking about. Didn’t seem to matter how much I kept telling people I wasn’t playing a game—I didn’t know the rules, I didn’t know how to play, and didn’t even care—they saw what they wanted to see. I couldn’t win.
* * *
Then I got a video message from Mom. An actual video message, not just a note, and she was gushing. She was actually smiling all the way to her eyes. She went on and on about how clever I was for helping that boy—that boy with the very important family. She’d even gotten a personal message from George Montes’s father about what happened in Manhattan. After earning his praise, the reprimands from Stanton didn’t matter.
“You’re doing very well, Polly. I’m so proud of you. Just keep working hard and making friends, and everything will be perfect. Keep working hard, Polly.”
I supposed that was pretty close to “I love you.”
This was during the evening study period, and I tracked down Charles at his desk. I pulled a chair close and whispered, “I got a video from Mom.”
He raised an eyebrow and waited, so I kept talking. “She’s making me very nervous.”
“Because she’s being overly solicitous?”
“What?”
He glared. “She knows every detail of everything that happens here, and moreover she seems pleased about it.”
“It’s Stanton, isn’t it?” I said. “Stanton is reporting to her.”
He blinked in surprise. Like he didn’t expect me to figure it out. “Yes. I assume she’s reporting to all the parents—but she has staff for that. Automated review forms. Our mother seems to be getting much more detailed information.”
“It’s making me nervous,” I repeated.
“It should.” Then he glanced around, over his shoulder like he was in an actual old-style spy video. “Meet me outside the front doors of the weight room before your PE class tomorrow.”
“Why, what—”
“Quietly,” he whispered. “I have to show you something.”
* * *
I was sure he wasn’t going to be there and would leave me standing there like an idiot while everyone else did their weight rotations. Then Franteska, the upperclass student supervisor, wandered over to stand with me.
“He here yet?” she asked.
“What?” I replied stupidly.
She gave me a look. “Your brother said he wanted to talk.”
“To you?”
“How is it you two are even related? I thought twins were supposed to be the same.”
“Welcome to the infuriating world of genetics,” I said. She huffed in agreement.
Just then Charles came down the corridor to the weight room. With him was Harald, Franteska’s classmate, who was supposed to be supervising the running PE se
ction.
Harald said, rather loudly and obviously in a way that made Charles wince, “Newton here might be interested in weight training, so I thought you both could talk to him about it.” He glanced at the camera in the corner for only a second, but it was still really obvious.