Rahul sat up straighter, tugging at his tie. “A makeover? What, like, My Fair Lady or something?”
“Exactly like that. Hair, fashion, social training, all of it. Now, we only have two weeks, so it won’t be quite as thorough as I’d like, but it’s a start. As long as you leave the talking mostly to me, we’ll be fine. What do you say?”
He didn’t hesitate even a moment. “Yes. I still say yes.” Then, pausing to look down at himself—his horribly ill-fitting uniform, his messily done tie, his untied shoelaces—he said, “When do we start?”
RAHUL
As he watched her walk away, back into the building in time for the next class, Rahul couldn’t help but smile. Caterina LaValle had asked him to the Hindman Foundation Gala. Not as a date, but still. He’d get to spend time with her, not just at the event in two weeks, but in the intervening time as well.
Not to mention, her training him could only mean good things. He’d be able to fit into her social circle better—he’d be able to fit into his own social circle better. No more wondering what his friends were talking about, or if he still wondered, maybe he’d know when to speak and when to hold his tongue. He wouldn’t hurt people like he’d hurt DE that morning. She’d forgive him soon enough, he knew—his friends always did—but he didn’t want to be in a position to require their forgiveness anymore. He wanted to be more attuned to their needs, more careful of their feelings.
With Caterina’s help, he could be more polished. A neater, classier version of himself. Maybe if he fit in really well with all of Caterina’s friends at the gala, she’d want to date him for real. He could be Alaric’s equal. Hell, with his personality, he could be Alaric’s superior. He’d never lie to Caterina or cheat on her like Alaric had done.
Rahul got up from the bench and walked toward the towering mathematics building in the distance. For the first time since he’d been enrolled at Rosetta Academy, he whistled as he walked.
CATERINA
13 Days until the Hindman Gala
She didn’t like to think of it as spying. Spying was what palace maids did in the old days at the bidding of their mistresses. Spying was what undercover agents did in exchange for a paltry paycheck. Spying was beneath her. Caterina was merely… observing Rahul in his natural habitat. Nothing more, nothing less.
She sat in the darkened observatory and planetarium at the top of the natural sciences building, not paying the slightest attention to Dr. Patton, the astronomy teacher, prattle on in her monotone about some celestial oddity or other that was playing out on the large domed screen above Caterina and the rest of the students. Normally, she wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open, staring at the stars and the meteors and other space debris from a million miles away, but that was okay. Tonight she was here under cover of the open invitation issued by the astronomy club—of which Rahul was a part, naturally—for all the Rosetta students to come marvel at “a presentation chronicling the wonders of the heavens above” with them, according to the flyer. There were about two dozen students present, which was perfect. Caterina arrived late, once the lights had been turned out, and took a seat in the back so as not to catch Rahul’s eye.
She knew he put on a little bit of effort when she was around. She was used to it; most people did that around her. What she was really interested in was seeing exactly what she was dealing with. How was he when he thought no one was watching? What might she have to work on with him in the ensuing two weeks? Surely being the son of a high-ranking politician would have imparted some social training in him, if only by osmosis.
Currently he was sitting in a theater-style seat off to the left, a few rows down from her. As she watched, Rahul pulled his feet up onto the seat and hugged his knees, as if he were a child watching a movie about Santa Claus. Sighing, Caterina scribbled a note to herself on the back of the flyer. Lessons in how to sit appropriately when in company.
“Caterina?” a voice from over her right shoulder whispered.
She turned to see Ava staring at her, the whites of her eyes glowing in the near-dark room. Lights from the movie shone purple in her brown hair. “Hello.”
“What are you doing here?” Ava asked, still looking completely thrown. “Are you… watching the movie?”
“Of course I am,” Caterina answered, sliding the flyer down to where Ava couldn’t see the note she’d made. “Just like you, I imagine.”
“Yeah, but I only came because Zahira wanted to come, remember?” Ava said, gesturing slightly to a Pakistani girl with a thin face who was staring avidly at the screen above them.
That’s right; this was her new girlfriend, Zahira, a junior. Caterina had only somewhat listened as Ava had filled them in at lunch that day. And naturally, she hadn’t told Heather or Ava about the deal she’d made with Rahul earlier in the day. She couldn’t trust them to keep the information to themselves. It was a motto she held dear: if you want to tell someone a secret, tell yourself. Rahul was the clear exception; she couldn’t execute the plan without him being in on it.
“Oh, well, yes,” Caterina said, smiling coolly. “I’m here for a similar thing, actually. A boy who’s taking me to the Hindman Gala is very interested in astronomy. I’m just picking up a few facts so we can talk about it together.”
Ava gasped and grasped the back of Caterina’s seat. “Who is it? You didn’t tell us you were bringing a date to the gala!”
Caterina brushed her aside as a boy in big glasses, probably a sophomore, turned to glare at them. Normally, she’d freeze him with an icy stare, but she was glad for the interruption this time. “Later,” she promised, turning back around.
Just in time to see Rahul stick a pencil down the back of his shirt in an effort to scratch a place that wasn’t easily accessible to his fingers. As he scratched, he closed his eyes, as if to fully appreciate the sensation of doing something so private in public. He looked like a mangy mutt getting its ears rubbed. Appalling. Caterina barely restrained herself from running over and snatching the pencil out of his hand. Instead, sighing, she made another note on her flyer: Scratching of any kind is not permitted when there are human beings within sight.
12 Days until the Hindman Gala
Day two was worse. So much worse.
Caterina walked a few people behind Rahul in the mathematics building after his advanced Boolean logic class. Another senior, a well-coiffed Black British boy named Will, whose family were real estate moguls, was attempting to engage him in conversation.
“Did you have a good break, then, Rahul?” Will asked, smiling at Rahul as they walked, books in hand.
Rahul looked straight ahead. “Yep.”
“Did you go home? Your family’s from India, aren’t they?”
“Yeah.”
A long pause, with Will presumably waiting for Rahul to supply something of his own to the conversation, as all well-bred children of well-placed parents would. But there was nothing but deflating silence. Caterina sighed.
“Ah… what do your parents do again? Isn’t your mum in politics?” Will asked, rallying valiantly to revive the conversation.