My pulse pounds and I stare down at my notebook thinking of Slade. Of how far he was willing to go, how far he’s still willing to go to take Echelon Vanguard down. He doesn’t want me around because he knows … he knows what he needs to do. He’s always known.
What about me? How far am I willing to go?
I may be sitting in the classroom, but I’m not free. Not really. It’s not one EV chapter in Chicago, it’s a whole network across the country, and they protect their own. Slade was right. True change needs to happen from the inside. Push back from the inside. His sights are set on being one of the Eight because that gives him a position of authority, ushers in more time, and creates a ripple in their all-too-perfect system. He’s going to do it. He’ll go through the Severing, especially now that Henry is dead. And he’s going to need an Offering.
Professor Blake moves on, talking about other philosophers we will talk about this semester and assigns us textbook reading for next class, but I don’t listen. I can only think about two things: Slade and how badly I have to pee.
“You darted out of class fast,” Trevor says, coming up behind me while I sit on the bench near the parking lot lost in thought.
“Yeah, sorry. Had to use the restroom.” A black town car drives by, and I swear it feels familiar.
Trevor moves in front of me, holding the college’s newspaper, or bulletin, whatever they call it here. He nudges me. “Hey, want to meet up for dinner one night this week?”
My stomach plummets. “Trevor, I?—”
The front headline of the bulletin catches my attention, and I crudely rip it from his hands to read it:Congressman DuPont Secures Support from Chicago Education Leaders for Statewide Literacy Initiative.
“Whoa, what’s the hurry?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, smiling.
Trevor glances over my shoulder. “DuPont. Huh. So, what do you think about dinner?”
I can’t stop smiling, and when I glance up at Trevor, I’m beaming. He must mistake it for enthusiasm because his smile widens.
He did it. He’s doing it.
I’m torn between wanting to jump for joy and burying my head in my hands to cry.
“Thea?”
Should I call him to congratulate him? Is that stupid? He’s a congressman after all, and?—
“Thea?”
“Yeah,” I say, still staring at the headline.
“Dinner?”
A horn beeps, and suddenly I’m upset. Why does it seem Slade is doing so well? Going after what he cares about, making a difference, and I can’t even sit through a philosophy class without getting choked up? Does he think about me? Care about me? Or has he moved on?
I bristle.
“We can go with a group of people. My new roommate and his girlfriend. Might take the pressure off.” Trevor slowly removes the bulletin from my hands.
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like fun,” I say. I imagine Slade and another woman dancing at a fancy party while he shmoozes the political minefield. She probably isn’t trauma-ridden or some girl he rescued. Most likely she’s from an affluent family that makes sense for his political career. But would she love him like I do? Would she know the real him or just the congressman version?
I hate where my mind goes. I hate that all I can think about is Slade.
“Great!” Trevor says, jumping up and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll set it up. I gotta go. I’ll see you in class.”
He bolts off, leaving me without the paper and with a headline I repeat in my mind all the way home.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
SLADE
ANOTHER TWO WEEKS LATER
