Chapter 7

I ALL BUT FALL INTO the gym and collapse on the padded floor just far enough away from the door that I’m hopefully out of the way of any incoming recruits. I don’t know how long I took to run the full five miles or how many recruits finished ahead of me. My legs have been reduced to gelatin, and my muscles twitch like I’m being jolted with tiny electric shocks.

Ghost squats down next to me, and he’s barely breathing heavy. I hate him a little bit for that. “Want me to get you a water or something?”

Okay. Maybe he’s not so bad.

I try to tell him yes, but my throat is made of sandpaper, and I’m pretty sure my tongue has shriveled up beyond repair. So I just nod.

“One water, coming right up.” And then he’s gone.

I stare up at the drop ceiling and try to steady my breathing. My pulse is so strong in my neck anyone around me could probably see it if they were looking. I draw out my breaths into long, deep inhales. Eventually, my pulse slows, my breathing steadies, and I close my eyes in relief. I just might live through this torture.

The mat under me shifts as someone sits down next to me, and without opening my eyes, I hold my hand out like a spoiled princess so Ghost can put a bottle of water in it. He doesn’t disappoint. The bottle he sets in my hand is ice cold and promises to cool me down at least a little bit. For a split second, I tarry between the desire to never move again and my overwhelming desire for water. My thirst wins, and I tighten muscles I’m almost sure are never going to work right again to sit up.

“Thank you.” I open my eyes to look at Ghost, but it’s not him. Maverick is sitting barely six inches from me in the space Ghost vacated just moments before. I side-eye him as I down half the bottle of water in one shot, but I don’t ask him why he’s here.

“You did well on that memory thing this morning. Any chance that might be your skill?”

It could be. “I guess maybe. What’s yours?” Being aloof and a loner probably. I take another long swig of water.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Uh huh.” I watch him for any sign that he knows more than he’s letting on, but he holds me steady in his crystal blue gaze. “But I’ll be the first to know when you figure it out, right?”

Maverick meets my challenge by placing a finger to his nose then pointing it at me, but we both know he’s as serious about telling me as I was in expecting him to. Which is not at all.

“How’d you know who to team up with?” I use the mostly empty water bottle to point toward Recall, who’s sitting across the room with knobby knees to his chest.

“Lucky guess?” His answer and his accompanying shrug are less than convincing.

Not a chance. “Right…”

Maverick sighs, leans a few inches closer, and drops his voice. “She said the test was information retention, and the kid’s name is Recall. I took a gamble.”

“And it paid off.” And I’m kicking myself for not paying better attention to Matrix and thinking of it myself.

A shadow falls over us, and I look up. Ghost stands over us with the bottle of water he sourced for me. I shrug off my initial urge to hide the bottle Maverick gave me. Instead, I polish it off in one gulp and reach for the one Ghost brought. “Thank you! I could seriously drink an entire ocean right now.” I take a long swig from the new bottle to prove my point.

“Hey, I’m Ghost.” He sits next to me and greets Maverick with an easy air.

Where Ghost is easygoing and friendly, Maverick is distant and assessing, giving Ghost the same look he’s given me—the one that says Ghost is a puzzle for Maverick to figure out.

“Maverick,” he finally says. His tone isn’t unfriendly, but it isn’t warm and inviting, either.

Only some of the other recruits were already here when we got back, but the room has filled up quickly since. Houdini and Bug stumble into the room together, with Wraith behind them. Where they are practically collapsing in exhaustion, she is still jogging in place and checking her pulse against her watch. So, not only did she run to keep an eye on us, now she’s rubbing it in our faces that she’s in better shape, too.

“That’s everyone,” she tells Matrix when she stops.

“Great, now that we’re all here,” Matrix’s voice is louder than I remember it being, “let’s talk about time. It took these two recruits,” she indicates Bug and Houdini with a casual sweep of one hand, “one hour and seventeen minutes to complete their run.” She uses air quotes on the last word.

Legacy snickers. She probably ran all five miles in two minutes flat while blindfolded and wearing ankle weights the size of her head.

“Now, the team with the most points in our memory game was Maverick and Recall. Can anyone tell me how long it took them to complete the memory exercise from the start to finish?”

The sound in the room becomes a muddle of mumbled numbers: times and figures.

“Is she looking for the exact time down to the second?” Ghost asks, and I shrug.

“Who knows?” She probably wants it down to the millisecond. I tune out the rest of the room and mentally run through what I know:

Matrix called time every two seconds exactly, and each of them had thirty-two panels to get through. So, that’s sixty-four seconds each just to review the cards. She gave each of them thirty seconds to absorb after reviewing the cards, but if I had to guess, I’d say Recall only used about half that time. Assuming it took roughly just as long to recite the images as Matrix gave us to learn them, if Recall got thirty-two correct and Maverick got six...

“Four minutes, ten seconds,” a small, barely pubescent, male voice calls out my exact answer from behind me. I know before I turn that it’s Prodigy who’s answered. But is he right?

Matrix takes her sweet time answering, like she’s getting some weird sense of satisfaction out of drawing out the suspense. Then, “Four minutes and ten seconds is correct.”

A whisper ripples through the room. Prodigy blushes and steps awkwardly from foot to foot like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself now.

Matrix taps her tablet and the memory game scores still showing on the murder board change next to Prodigy and Cipher. They go from twenty-four points to thirty-four, and Ghost and I slide down into third place. “Each week there will be a special test, an extra part of the game that will earn one team, and one team only, extra points. Sometimes it will be a surprise question like today. Other times, you will all compete for the extra points. It’s important that you all stay on your toes and constantly be assessing your surroundings and the situation.”

We’re being scolded, which is made all the more frustrating by the fact that I was only a few seconds behind in giving the correct answer myself.

“Take a break, recruits. Be back here in ten minutes for more training.”

Recruits immediately start filing out of the room, but I’m slow in moving. Where am I going to go anyway?

But she said more training.

Shoot me now. More training is the absolute last thing I want right now. I’d rather just sit here forever.

“Take a walk with me?” Ghost stands and holds out a hand to help me up.

This boy is out of his mind. “No thanks. I’ve used my feet enough for one day. Maybe tomorrow.” My legs are only just now starting to feel normal again, and I hug them to my chest protectively.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “I’ll tell you all about myself.” Then he gives me the most charming smile I’ve ever seen. It’s all boyish flirtation and perfectly straight, white teeth. This is a guy who knows he’s good looking and when to best use that to his advantage, I realize. While his smile does make my stomach do a nervous little flip, I’ve dealt with his type before. Heck, my last boyfriend was a charmer. But Joe was also a jerk. Here’s hoping Ghost isn’t.

I pretend I’m not the least bit interested in his offer, even though I do find him intriguing. “Something tells me you’d enjoy talking about yourself even if I wasn’t there to listen.”

His smile falters just the tiniest bit, but only for a second. Then the charming mask is back in place. But this time, when he speaks, the look in his eye is more serious, more calculating. “I’ll tell you what I know about The Program.”

Now he’s got my attention. I’ve all but forgotten that he was one of the three people to raise their hands last night when Wraith asked who knew about The Program. And where Maverick is less than forthcoming with any conversation in general, Ghost is openly offering information.

I take his outstretched hand, and he pulls me to my feet in one fluid motion. I ignore my protesting muscles and let him lead me out of the room. He doesn’t let go of my hand, and in fact, seems completely comfortably with my small fingers wrapped in his much larger grasp. His grip is soft and gentle, almost reverent, and as we pass through the front door, I’m almost positive his thumb is stroking almost imperceptible circles over the back of my hand. Gooseflesh spreads halfway up my arm. What is up with this guy? Does he think we’re like going steady now or something just because I agreed to walk with him in exchange for information?

I pull my hand out of his and cross my arms over my chest. Unfazed, he heads for the swing at the far end of the porch, and I follow. I sit when he sits, but I make sure to keep my distance. I turn sideways on the seat, partly so I can watch him while we talk and partly so I can place my leg up on the seat between us, a barrier filling the open space that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t tried to hold my hand like we were a couple.

I’m not completely uninterested in him, though. He is a good-looking guy. Like he belongs in some catalog for trendy, guy’s clothing or at the very least on the homecoming court. And with his lean build and toned muscles, probably the basketball court, too. I know from the brief time we were holding hands that his skin is as soft as it looks, stretching like silk over those muscles, and golden-hued. I can’t tell if he’s naturally that shade of gorgeous or spends a lot of time in the sun, but either way, the contrast with his pale gray eyes is striking when he turns to look at me. And catches me staring. His bright white grin lights up his face, and heat warms my cheeks.

I clear my throat to diffuse the sudden lump forming there. “So, let’s hear it.”

Ghost waits for the porch to clear out so we’re alone. Then he watches me for a long minute. “I don’t know a lot, but I gather I know more than you. More than most of the kids here.” He stops and looks out at the open field across the street, toward the forest underlining the horizon. “My uncle told me about it when I was little. He wasn’t supposed to, but he wanted me to be prepared if they ever came to recruit me.”

Ghost pauses again, so I ask the obvious question, “How did your uncle know about it?”

“He was one of the first instructors.” Ghost finally tears his gaze off the scenery and spears me with a serious look. His voice is quiet and smooth as he drops the bomb. I don’t know why I’m rocked by this revelation. It would stand to reason real people would know other real people who were once a part of The Program. “Once you’re in The Program, you’re in. Ruger meant what he said. If you wash out, your life as you knew it will be over. We basically belong to them now. Our fate is in their hands.”

Why is he telling me this? Out of all the recruits here, what makes me special enough to get this information from him? And as ominous as his warning sounds, I refuse to accept that my fate is in anyone’s hands except God’s. “What else did your uncle tell you?”

Ghost shakes his head, and a lock of brown hair falls over his forehead. “He didn’t tell me much more about The Program. Just how to win.”

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty important.”

Ghost nods but doesn’t say anything else.

“So… how do we win?” I ask.

His expression brightens, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “We?”

“Isn’t that why you brought me out here… to tell me how to win?”

He studies me carefully, as if trying to pull some unknown truth from my expression. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He looks around to make sure we’re alone, then leans closer. “So, are we a team then?”

I’m not really sure what it means to be a team in this type of situation. I mean, we’re not even on the same team. “Sure.”

His smile is wider and brighter than before. “Good. We’re going to need each other to win.”

“Okay.” When is he going to get to the point? “So, how do we win?” I ask again.

“Divide and conquer. To succeed in The Program,” he says, “to be in the top six at the end, you have to score higher than anyone else consistently. Each week, the rankings from the weeks before is averaged in with your performance for that week. And each week, the theme is different. So, we have to outperform everyone else consistently. Which isn’t easy to do when everyone has their own specialized skill set.”

“Like Recall,” I supply.

“Exactly.” Ghost swings us gently with one foot.

I wait for him to continue.

“We need to figure out what everyone’s skill is and make sure we’re partnered up with the right person each week. But the instructors know that. That’s why they make us pair up with recruits from the opposite team—recruits we haven’t had the opportunity to get to know well. It makes choosing a partner more of a gamble.”

Ah, now I’m catching on. “So, we secretly feed each other information about the recruits on our team so that we know who to partner up with and when.”

“Bingo.”

It’s a good system. It’s basically what Maverick did with Recall except he deduced the right choice on his own. If I’d been working with Ghost already, I would have known ahead of time and could have paired up with Recall myself. But one question remains… “Why me?”

“You mean other than the fact that you’re easy on the eyes?”

I do my best to not react to the cheesy line, but heat rises in my cheeks anyway.

Ghost takes pity on me and says, “My uncle told me that every year, they pick one person whose skills and talents can’t be pinned down to one area, someone with the potential to dominate in multiple areas.”

“Like someone they would code name Prodigy.”

Ghost nods. “This year, I think there might be two recruits who fit that bill.” He gives me a pointed look as if I should know what he’s talking about.

Finally, realization dawns. “Me?” I poke myself in the chest with my index finger, and I’m almost positive my eyebrows are in my hairline.

“You,” Ghost confirms.