“Eccentric?” Kael scoffs.
“I can take the jacket off.”
“Just win this,” he says. “How do we make a million dollars?”
I take the cue and pocket my phone. At his speed, I’m more worried about keeping up than missing the deadline.
“Average stock market returns are about ten percent a year. Bart didn’t mention inflation, so we can assume?—”
“Ash, please. I don’t care. If you need to talk it out, by all means, but if you’re doing it for me, just give me the answer. The teacher’s not going to check my work.”
“Might do you some good,” I say, and immediately regret it when his head drops and his pace kicks up another notch. “I mean, maybe all this happened for a reason!” I call after him.
“Didn’t take you for the karmic type,” he fires back.
The Bay Area is full of people who don’t like tech or Query. Fine. He can keep cosplaying starving artist forever.
A brisk walk around the lake will do me some good, even if it’s practically a jog. I put my head down and try to keep up.
“No high-interest debt,” I say, “increase our savings rate, and invest in low-cost index funds.”
“Like a human being.” Kael throws his arms wide in an overdramatic shrug.
“Thought you wanted the answer.”
“That’s the answer? What did you say again?”
I can’t win with this guy, so I shut up. Every time I close the distance, he speeds up, and it’s a few minutes of tug-of-war in silence before he says three words I don’t understand.
“I know Alistair,” he repeats when I ask.
My head draws back on instinct, my brain trying and failing to overlay the image of Kael’s paint-stained jeans and secondhand hoodie in the same room with a man who makes presidents wait.
“You know Alistair Blackwood, the founder of Query? Investor in half the Valley’s unicorns—that Alistair?”
“I don’t need to hear his résumé.”
“I’m just making sure I follow. You knowbillionaireAlistair Blackwood.”
“Yes,” Kael says, annoyed, maybe even disgusted. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Alistair referred to in that way.
Usually people talk about meeting Alistair with stars in their eyes. They tell the story over lunch. Every. Lunch. But Kael’s tossing out other people’s claim to fame like it’s trash.
“I work for his company,” I say, “and I haven’t met the guy. Forgive me for being skeptical.”
“Fine,” he says. “Say whatever you did before so I can figure out how to paint index refunds or whatever.”
“I believe you,” I say.
A bird flutters overhead, trilling a slow succession of high-pitched chirps.
“Whoopee.” Kael twirls a finger in the air and keeps walking.
This time I match his pace. This is a whole lot more interesting than a group project.
“If you were lying, you’d at least know he’s a legend,” I say.
“You have got to be kidding!” Kael shouts up at the canopy. The bird whistles back like it agrees. “Alistair is a creep. You work for him. You don’tknowhim.”
