Chapter 115
[Rose's POV]
Rachel's smile didn't reach her eyes as she waved her hand dismissively. "Of course I came to check on my dear sister when I heard you were rehearsing here." Her voice dripped with false sweetness, each word carefully enunciated like she was performing for an invisible audience. "I just didn't expect you'd form a three-person group. How... surprising."
She tilted her head, her perfectly styled hair catching the fluorescent light. The gesture was calculated, practiced.
Ava shot to her feet, jaw tight. "Our trio has incredible chemistry. We'll beat you easily."
Rachel's laugh was light and dismissive. "Oh, how adorable." She examined her manicured nails with exaggerated interest. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Sophia's fists clenched at her sides, anger flashing in her eyes. Her whole body had gone rigid, muscles coiled like she was physically restraining herself from launching across the room. But she held her tongue, years of self-control keeping her grounded.
I remained seated on the practice mat, one leg bent, the other stretched out. My posture was relaxed, almost bored. I picked up my water bottle and took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch.
Rachel's smile faltered slightly. She'd come here expecting a reaction, craving the satisfaction of seeing us rattled. Instead, she found three tired girls taking a break, completely unimpressed by her entrance.
"Well." Rachel waved her hand again, that practiced gesture of dismissal I'd seen a thousand times in the 1940s from women who thought breeding gave them superiority. "Say whatever you want. It's all pointless effort anyway." Her voice had taken on a harder edge, frustration bleeding through the sugary facade. "You'll understand soon enough."
She turned on her heel with theatrical precision, her designer dress swishing. Her assistant scrambled to follow, juggling the garment bag and makeup case. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing in the studio.
The moment they disappeared, Ava whirled toward me. "Did you hear that? 'You'll understand soon enough'? What does that mean?"
I set down my water bottle, my mind already working through the implications. Rachel's confidence wasn't just bravado. She knew something we didn't. Christopher had mentioned Carter suddenly changing the competition rules. Now Rachel appeared unannounced in our practice space, radiating false confidence while dropping cryptic warnings.
The timing felt deliberate. Someone was manipulating this competition from behind the scenes, and Rachel's visit confirmed she knew exactly what was happening. Whether she was actively participating in the manipulation or simply benefiting from it remained unclear, but either way, she'd just shown her hand.
"Rose?" Sophia moved closer, concern replacing her earlier anger. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," I said slowly, "that we need to be prepared for anything. The rules changed once. They could change again."
Before anyone could respond, someone knocked on the door. A delivery man stood outside holding three large pizza boxes, the aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce wafting through the gap.
"Pizza delivery for Rose Evans?"
Sophia practically ran to the door, her earlier tension evaporating. "Yes! That's us!" She grabbed the boxes and kicked the door shut with her foot, balancing the stack as she carried it to the center of the practice space.
We settled on the floor in a loose circle, pizza boxes spread between us. Ava pulled out her tablet and started playing dance videos from other contestants, analyzing their techniques between bites. "Look at this move Hannah does at the forty-second mark. Her extension is incredible, but she's sacrificing stability."
Sophia leaned over to watch, a slice of pepperoni pizza dangling from her hand. "She's showing off. Making it harder than it needs to be."
"Exactly." Ava scrolled to another video. "We need to focus on clean execution, not flashy tricks."
I watched them, grease on their fingers, hair messy from hours of practice, completely absorbed in their work. This was what normal teenage girls did. They shared pizza. They gossiped about other performers. They lived in the moment without the weight of atomic physics or national security crushing down on them.
In 1943, I'd calculating uranium enrichment rates in a secret laboratory. I'd eaten meals alone at my workstation, too focused on preventing catastrophic meltdowns to notice the world passing by. I'd had colleagues, brilliant minds I respected, but not friends. Not like this. There'd been no time for pizza nights or casual gossip, no space for anything that didn't serve the war effort.
I'd missed this. All of it. The simplicity of being young without the burden of knowing too much.
"Rose?" Sophia nudged my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. "You're spacing out again. Are you feeling okay? Should we check your neck?"
I took a bite of pizza, the simple act feeling oddly significant. The cheese was hot, slightly burned at the edges, perfectly ordinary. "I was just thinking. This is nice."
"Pizza?" Ava laughed, waving her slice in the air. "Yeah, it's pretty good. Though I've had better in New York."
"No. This." I gestured around the studio, taking in the scattered water bottles, the tablet propped against a backpack, the easy way they sat together. "Being eighteen. Having friends. Doing normal things."
Sophia's expression softened, something understanding flickering in her eyes. "You say that like you've never had friends before."
I hadn't. Not like this. Not friends who chose me without calculations of what I could offer them, without fear of my intelligence or my position. In Los Alamos, respect had been grudging, professional. In this life, the Evans household had offered only competition and resentment. But here, in this practice studio, two girls had simply decided I was worth trusting.
"I'm going to make the most of this year," I said quietly, more to myself than to them. "Even after I start at MIT next fall, I won't let myself become consumed by research. I'll actually live like a real person."
Ava raised her water bottle in a mock toast, grinning. "To living like real people! Which apparently means eating terrible pizza on a dirty floor."
"This pizza isn't terrible," Sophia protested.
"It absolutely is." Ava took another large bite. "But that's part of the charm."
We clinked our bottles together, and for a moment, everything felt perfectly simple. The competition, Rachel's cryptic threats, the uncertain rules—all of it faded into background noise. Right now, we were just three girls sharing a meal after a hard day's work.
The pizza disappeared quickly. I stretched and checked my watch, noting the late hour. "You've both made incredible progress today. Let's call it here. Get some rest tonight instead of pushing too hard."
Ava started gathering the empty boxes, stacking them neatly. "Sounds good. My legs are killing me." She paused, glancing between us. "How are you two getting home?"
"I'm walking," Ava said. "My place is just a few blocks away in Somerville. Takes like fifteen minutes."
Sophia hesitated, her expression shifting into something more guarded. "I need to catch the night bus. It's a bit far."
I frowned. "You take the bus here every time we practice?"
"Yeah." She shrugged like it was nothing, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders. "It's not that bad. Just takes about an hour each way."
An hour. She'd been spending two hours a day commuting to rehearse with us, never once complaining. Never once asking for a ride or suggesting we practice somewhere more convenient for her. She'd simply absorbed the burden without comment, the same way people from working-class backgrounds often did, making themselves smaller to fit into spaces that weren't designed for them.
"Let me drive you both home," I said firmly.
Sophia's eyes widened. "Oh, you don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to. I want to." I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. "Come on."
We headed downstairs, footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. The building's lobby was deserted, the security guard barely glancing up from his phone as we passed. Outside, the evening air was cool, a welcome relief after hours in the stuffy studio.
Alexander was already waiting at the curb in a black Mercedes, engine idling smoothly. He'd removed his Bluetooth earpiece and sat with both hands on the wheel, posture alert and focused. When he saw us emerge, he immediately got out and opened the back door.
"Evening, ladies." His tone was polite, almost formal.
Sophia leaned close to me, voice dropping to a whisper. Her breath was warm against my ear. "Is that your boyfriend?"