Page 34 of Winterveil

STUDENT: JULIAN JOYCE-YOUNG III

ID#: 5408501

American Political Literature A

American Politics & Public Policy A

Cicero & Latin Prose Intensive A

Advanced Integrated Mathematics A

Ethics of the Marketplace A

COMMENTS

Julian shows outstanding leadership capabilities, evident through his multitude of positions in an array of extracurricular clubs and organizations. He recently led the Debate Team to victory in the New England Interscholastic Debate Tournament and has continuously won titles in the South Shore Interscholastic Chess League, placing Exeter’s team first in the region. In addition, he is both president of the Latin Club and captain of our nationally ranked varsity lacrosse team.

He has impressed the faculty and administration not only with his talents but with his poise, charisma, and eloquence. We have no doubt that he will matriculate to one of the country’s finest institutions and go on to accomplish things that will make Exeter proud to call itself his alma mater.

Twelve

Spring 2037

Rural Virginia

Julian had slept very little the past night. He had been up until nearly one in the morning, playtesting Mikhail’s game. And so had Klaudia. The little green check mark next to her name had pulsed there for hours. Julian had originally planned, petulantly, to outlast her. But exhaustion had overtaken him just after midnight, weighing down his eyelids and fuzzing his vision. He’d been forced to log off and collapse into bed, all while Klaudia’s check mark remained.

He was still frustrated with himself for once again coming up short against her. But it was the morning of his first simulation, so he rose well before the sun did, dressed, and sat down at his desk. Mikhail was gone, having spent the night in Jane’s room. For all his initial horror, the roommate situation was not nearly as bad as Julian had feared. Mikhail spent at least half his time with Jane, leaving Julian plenty of privacy.

Trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy that Klaudia always seemed able to provoke in him, Julian unlocked his tablet and opened the rankings board. He was astonished to see that he had officially cracked the top ten.

It must have been his performance yesterday that sealed it. For the past week he had been approaching his professors individually for extracurricular work. One of them, Professor Sokolov, had sardonically promised that he would elevate his ranking by five if Julian could beat him in a game of chess. Julian had checkmated him in fifteen with the Ruy López.

Pride glowed in Julian’s chest, but it was short-lived. If he wanted to continue his climb, he had to win today’s simulation. Yet it might be a hopeless cause. As Professor Narendra had informed them yesterday, Klaudia would be leading one of the teams. Julian wasn’t sure which would be worse—playing on Klaudia’s side, or playing against her.

But given that he was in his first year at Valeran and she in her third, he had precious few opportunities to face off with her directly. Today’s simulation might be his only chance. He had been at Valeran for just over two weeks, but this weekend he would be at home. All he had to do was win. Anxiously, Julian loosened and retightened the band of his watch. Before leaving his room, he checked the Thymos app. Klaudia’s green check mark had disappeared.

He was too shaky with adrenaline to eat, so instead of stopping at the dining hall, Julian went straight to the practice room. To his immense dismay, someone had beaten him there. Klaudia.

“Good morning,” he said, in a voice that he hoped was as flat and remote as hers normally was.

Klaudia acknowledged him only with a nod. He searched her face for signs of exhaustion, for cracks in the facade. Under the humming fluorescent lights her skin looked especially pale, and it contrasted against her dark hair in a dramatic way. Julian found himself staring for a moment too long.

As the silence between them stretched on, he felt compelled to speak. “It seems like you were enjoying Thymos.”

“It’s well-constructed. Mikhail is a good programmer.”

The more restrained Klaudia was, the more determined—or perhaps desperate—Julian became. “Did you build your team?”

Klaudia cast him a rather suspicious look, and then nodded. Before Julian could say another word, Professor Narendra arrived, and the other students began to slowly trickle in after him.

One of them was the red-haired boy who had punched the wall. Unexpectedly, he made an immediate beeline toward Julian and stuck out his hand.

“Carter Egan,” he said, in a tone that seemed to assume Julian would already know his name.

After a moment’s hesitation, Julian took his hand. His palm was damp. “Julian Joyce-Young the Third.”

“I know,” said Carter. “Everyone does. No one has ever climbed the rankings as quickly as you have.”