It created a three-dimensional image in the air, showing a model of Cain’s proteins and mutations. Manipulating the model proved to be challenging. The image had no substance, of course, but the projector could detect hand movement and “touch,” allowing the model to be rotated as needed. The technology was still new in the RUNA, so there was a bit of a trick to it. The other students had practiced before, but Tessa couldn’t quite get the hang of it. She didn’t seem to touch the image in the right spots to trigger detection, and more often than not, her hand passed right through it. Her classmates had no difficulty jumping right in as they worked through their assigned questions and problems.

After a day of being told how to use technology she’d already learned, Tessa had finally hit a wall. She knew if she went to her instructor, he’d find someone to help her—but that would draw unwanted attention to her and confirm everyone’s suspicions about the primitive girl from the provinces. No one had seemed to notice her difficulties—yet. They were all consumed with their own tasks, many of them chatting with friends as they worked. Tessa continued trying to doggedly manipulate the model, only succeeding about a third of the time. When she was able to manage it, she could barely understand the related questions, making the whole exercise kind of futile.

Panic hit her. What was she doing here? Her superficial features might have looked plebeian, but there was always going to be something that made her “other.” It didn’t matter if she wore the same uniform as everyone else in the school. The maroon pants and white shirt weren’t going to disguise what she was. And it wasn’t even her hair or accent or lack of technical skills that really made her stand out. It was something more intangible, an attitude and demeanor that screamed to the world that she hadn’t been born and raised in this glittering, frenetic society. The students here were just like everyone else she’d seen in the RUNA: confident, purposeful, and so certain of their superiority over the world. Tessa was never going to possess that air.

Clenching her hands, she took a deep breath and tried to seize control. She remembered the way Justin had fought for her with her parents and how proud he’d been when taking her to tour the school. More important, she couldn’t shake the way he kept calling her his prodigy. She didn’t really know if she believed that, but the thought of going home and telling him she couldn’t do any of this was unbearable. Another breath calmed her, and she resigned herself to asking for help, no matter how humiliating it was.

But when she went to the front of the room, she found her teacher deeply engaged with another student. Standing around made her self-conscious, so she returned to her table to wait her turn. Behind her, Melissa had taken a break in her work—or maybe even finished—and was talking to a cluster of friends.

“I can’t understand anything she says,” she told them. “And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t get half of what we’re saying. I don’t think they have electricity there.”

“Did you see her with the hologram?” asked another student.

Someone else laughed. “She probably thought it was some sort of vision. They’ve got crazy beliefs in the provinces.”

Melissa sneered, marring her pretty features. “Well, I’m just glad I don’t have to drag her around tomorrow. If I have to look at that hair one more—”

She froze, her smile slipping as she noticed Tessa watching. Melissa flushed, embarrassed at being caught. Then she became equally conscious of her friends and pushed aside her chagrin. “Well?” she demanded. Gone was the friendly peppiness from before. “What are you staring at?”

When Tessa said nothing, one of Melissa’s friends nudged her. “Forget it, Mel. Look at her. She didn’t even understand what you said.”

“I can understand bitchiness in any language,” Tessa said. A few seconds later, she added, “Do you need me to repeat that more slowly?” She kept her face cold and unrevealing, something she’d picked up after days spent around people who excelled at hiding their thoughts.

Melissa’s face said that she had indeed understood. “Who are you calling a bitch?”

“Who do you think?” asked Tessa, growing emboldened. “That’s rhetorical, by the way. It means you don’t have to answer.”

Part of Tessa knew she needed to stop. She was only digging a bigger hole for herself. Melissa didn’t seem like the type to defend her honor with fists, not if the way she pranced and kept checking her hair was any indication. But there was a malevolent look in her eyes that made Tessa think Melissa was very likely the type to take revenge in far more subtle and insidious ways. Fists might have been easier.

“That’s the part Melissa doesn’t understand,” a new voice suddenly said. “How not to answer. She can’t keep her mouth shut—just ask Silas Moore.”

Melissa glared as one of her friends snickered, and then she turned her fury on the girl standing beside Tessa. “Shut the hell up, Poppy! Everyone knows what you did last weekend.”

“Funny,” said the girl called Poppy. “How come no one ever brags about what they do with you? They always just look kind of sad and disappointed.”

“Ladies, why are none of you working?” That was Mr. Rykov, striding toward them. Melissa and her friends immediately began to disperse. Poppy, however, turned toward him and looked him squarely in the eye.

“Just helping Tertia, Mr. Ry,” she said brightly. “That’s the kind of person I am.” She reached toward Tessa’s model and deftly flipped the molecule over.

Mr. Rykov looked suspicious. “Well, I suppose that’s—you have that abhorrent makeup on again! I told you not to come to class like that. You’ll be serving detention with me tomorrow.”

“Can’t. I’ve already got another one. But I’m free on Thursday.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Thursday. Now get back to work, and try to accomplish something productive with your last ten minutes.”

When he was gone, Poppy turned to Tessa. “You know why he didn’t ask me to do detention today? Because everyone knows he goes and fucks Ms. Braeburn on Tuesdays. It’s the day her husband works late.”

“Oh,” said Tessa, not entirely sure how else to respond. “I see. Well, um. My name’s not Tertia. It’s Teresa. Er, Tessa.”

“Got it,” said Poppy. “Let’s knock the rest of this out.”

Without further comment, she took over Tessa’s workstation and began entering in answers as she worked through the assignment. Tessa leaned over to watch her, amazed at how much Poppy accomplished in so little time.

The “abhorrent” makeup was heavy black eyeliner and hot-pink lipstick that matched the streaks in Poppy’s short, spiked hair. Justin was always going on about how refined Gemmans were, but apparently, he only meant his own demographic.

Chimes signaled the end of the school day, and Poppy stepped back. “Damn. Well, that’s most of it. I don’t think he’ll really care what you turn in anyway. You heard those assholes. No one here even thinks you can read.” She suddenly paused. “You can, right?”

Tessa sighed. “Yes. And I’m fluent in English, even though I have an accent.”

Poppy shrugged. “The accent’s cool.”

“I still want to finish this. How do I bring it home?” Tessa gestured to the screen Poppy had entered the answers on. So far, all of Tessa’s work had been completed in class, and she’d simply been able to send it from the screens to her teachers.

“Easy.” Poppy took Tessa’s ego and held it over a small panel. A few taps on the screen, and it went blank. She handed over the ego. “Done. Just upload later. Your model will only be 2D there, though. Unless you’ve got a projector.”

The luxury house had many amenities, but Tessa hadn’t seen anything like the projector. Thinking of how little she understood, she said, “I don’t think it’ll matter.”

Poppy gathered up her things. “Where do you live?”

Although Justin refused to call it anything except “the suburbs,” Tessa had recently learned the name of her neighborhood. “Cherrywood.”

“Hey, me too. We can walk there.”

Poppy headed off as though it were a done deal. After a bit of hesitation, Tessa followed. She’d ridden the bus this morning. It was another automated vehicle but one that had a supervisor to keep students in line. True, the distance to school hadn’t been very long, but no one like her would walk that far alone in Panama. Poppy had no fear, however, and neither Justin nor Cynthia had seemed to care how Tessa traveled, so long as she made it to and from school.

Poppy lit a cigarette as soon as they were three blocks away. Smoking was a lot less common here, and Justin had held good to his commitment to quit. Those who did smoke were very respectful of laws about where it was allowed, and they always cleaned up after themselves.

Tessa soon discovered Poppy had no sense of personal boundaries. She peppered Tessa with questions about Panama, but it seemed to be out of friendly curiosity and not some sort of perverse condescension. Poppy’s reactions ran the gamut of emotions as the many rumors she’d heard were either confirmed or denied. She seemed legitimately disappointed to hear particularly savage stereotypes dismissed—but that was matched by supreme delight at other revelations.

“Really?” she asked. “No gun laws?”

“No. I don’t even know how they’d enforce one. You can get guns anywhere.”

“Not here.” Poppy sounded wistful. “They’re hard to smuggle in, and production is pretty closely watched. I wouldn’t mind learning to use one.”

“Join the military,” suggested Tessa.

“Nah. I could never follow all those rules. This is where you live?”

Tessa had come to a stop in front of her house. “Yup.”

Poppy gave a nod of approval. “Wow, nice. Your parents must have made out pretty good back in the provinces.”