Ava took a deep breath. I can fucking do this. This time will be different.

She tied her hair into a ponytail and splashed ice-cold water onto her face. Then she strode out of the bathroom. Song Hyun-woo and Kim Jun-seo were waiting on the lobby’s sofas. Neither had much luggage. Song Hyun-woo only had a leather briefcase. Kim Jun-seo had a sturdy-looking backpack.

“The car will be here soon,” Song Hyun-woo said. He got up.

Ava picked up her backpack, a small red bag. It was light; she hadn’t packed much more than clothes and a notebook.

“What are we taking this time? A Bentley?” she asked.

“It’s a compact,” Kim Jun-seo said.

“Oh.” She’d been looking forward to riding a Bentley again.

They went out an automatic door and saw a small grey car approach a minute or two later. They headed for LAX. Ava sat in the back with Kim Jun-seo, while Song Hyun-woo sat in the front.

“Song Hyun-woo, how many recruits did you get this time?” she asked. “Fifteen foot soldiers and the banker. Who else?”

“Two more people, both potential archers,” Song Hyun-woo said. “One of them was a Shields candidate. I gave an offer to him two days ago. He took it on the spot.”

“Shields must be pissed that we’re taking so many of their candidates.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“How many do you think will drop out by the time we go to the New World?”

“The quality of a few of these recruits is stunning,” Song Hyun-woo said. “Shields did some great work finding candidates for us. So if we’re lucky, just two or three will quit. If we’re unlucky, maybe six to eight.”

“You want to bet who’s going to make it?”

Song Hyun-woo smiled. “Okay. I’d put ten dollars on Roberts failing with odds of 2 to 1.”

“Deal. He looks motivated enough to me. How about the banker? I’ll put ten on him failing. Odds of 1 to 2.”

“I’ll take you up on that bet.”

. . . .

It was six in the morning. Raine left the apartment.

He carried a leather briefcase he hadn’t touched since his junior year of college. It had a detachable shoulder strap that freed up one hand, since he had to hold his crutch with the other. Though he’d intended on bringing his aluminum one, June had told him to pack light and bring as little metal as he could. She didn’t tell him why, and he didn’t ask because he knew what response he would get.

His debts were paid, and his belongings were stuffed in the tiny storage room of Adam’s apartment. He had several hundred dollars in his bank account and 200 in his wallet. It wasn’t much, but he was happy his net worth was no longer negative.

He hailed a cab and told the driver to head for LAX.

He wore his seatbelt, pulled a book out of his briefcase, and leaned back. It was going to be a long ride. He opened his book. It was on the causes of the Great Depression. He thought it would be an interesting read, especially since it was in Russian.

Walt had recommended that he brush up his knowledge of the language. Ephrian was the most important language to know, but knowing some Chinese or Russian would give him a leg up.

He understood most but not all of what he read. His vocabulary was probably comparable to a Russian middle schooler’s. But it was a fun way to kill an hour of sitting in a cab.

His flight was at 9:30 AM. He arrived over two hours before that and checked in. Then he passed the security check and went into the next Starbucks he saw.

As he headed for an empty seat after ordering a latte, he got a message from June.

“Behind you,” it said.

Raine turned around and saw her standing in line. She smiled and waved, and a large man standing beside her nodded at him.

“Raine, this is Edgar,” she said. “He’s also new Hopkins member.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Raine said with a smile, extending a hand to Edgar.

Edgar shook his hand. “The pleasure’s mine.”

Raine couldn’t tell what it was about himself that rubbed Edgar the wrong way, but the guy didn’t seem friendly. Is he just feeling competitive? Or maybe he’s like that to everyone.

Edgar was tall enough to look down at Raine, and he was twice as wide. His legs were like tree trunks, and his arms were packed with enough muscle to make Raine’s look weak and small in comparison.

Raine grabbed his latte and sat at a table with four seats. When June and Edgar were done making their order, they joined him there.

“Have either of you flown before?” June asked. “This will be my third or fourth time.”

“I went for an overseas internship in college. Aside from that, I went on one or two round trips for work,” Raine said.

“I went back and forth on two trips to Switzerland,” Edgar said with a smile. “I went there to go to the Alps.”

Ah, that’s what it is. Raine faked a yawn to hide a grin. He shut up and just drank his coffee.

June and Edgar spent a while speaking about the latter’s trip to the Alps, and while June tried to pull Raine back into the conversation several times, he slipped away with short and boring responses.

Some time after, Raine checked the time on his phone. “We should head to the gate. It’s 8:30.”

“Oh, let’s go,” June said.

Edgar nodded. He grabbed his empty cup and offered to take June’s too.

“Sure, thanks,” she said.

Raine expected a nod or any sign of gratitude from Edgar, but instead, the guy immediately went to return the cups. Raine wondered if Edgar was an idiot or an ingrate. Both?

While Edgar was walking away, June glanced at Raine and gave him a wry smile, like she was saying, “He’s a nice guy, but I’m not into him.”

“Yeah,” he said knowingly. He grabbed his crutch and pulled his briefcase’s strap over his shoulder. Then he tossed his plastic cup in a bin.

He went to the gate with June and Edgar.

It was fairly easy to tell who was a Hopkins employee and who wasn’t from their level of fitness and their clothing. There was one row of seats taken by men in blazers and sport coats, most of them with builds like Edgar’s. They were talking and laughing with each other about football and money. Another two rows were taken by young men and women in business casual clothing. They each had at least one piece of clothing or one accessory with the name of an Ivy League school on it.

My god, did I get teleported back to Allison Flynn? he thought, looking at the word “Stanford” on the sleeve of the brown-haired girl he took a seat beside. She looked back at him, followed his gaze, and smiled politely before her attention returned to the sketchbook on her lap.

At his other side, June was speaking with Edgar and someone else about what they could expect on their first day. Since Raine had already asked her those questions before, he was uninterested in the conversation. He pulled out his book and started reading.

“Oh, hey banker.”

Raine looked up. “Oh god, it’s you.”

“What kind of reaction is that?” the Stanford hopeful said with a frown.

“What are you here for, a summer internship with Hopkins?”

She snorted. “I’ve worked full-time at Hopkins for a year now.”

“Okay.” Raine opened his book again.

“Hey, don’t ignore me,” she groaned. “But damn, look at all the Stanford students and alumni here.” He briefly raised his gaze from his book and saw a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. He had a feeling she was going to spend the whole flight bugging someone from Stanford.

“Quit bothering Williams and take a seat, Ava.” Song Hyun-woo nodded to Raine as he headed for a row of empty seats. As he passed by, Raine noticed a strong smell of cigarettes from him.

“In a second,” Ava said to Song Hyun-woo. Then she turned back to Raine. “Sooo banker, your website says you spent a summer working for UCLA’s admissions department.”

Oh boy. He smiled wryly. “Yes, I’ll read your essays.”

She blinked. “You catch on fast. I’ll make sure to help you out with your work if you give me decent feedback.”

Yeah, because a high schooler like you will be able to help me out. Still, he shrugged and nodded. Ava pulled a notebook out of her backpack, flipped to a certain page, and passed it to him.

On paper? It must be annoying to keep track of the word count. He took a few minutes to read the essay. It was about her experience in track. He frowned as he read it. It’s so generic. Where’s the emotion?

He passed the notebook back to her and looked out the window to avoid meeting her gaze. He knew she was probably wearing the nervous, hopeful look that everyone did when getting feedback for a college admission essay. Every negative comment he had would be softened if he saw it. “You’re a solid writer—decent word choice, good rhythm, and great punctuation. But this topic is too common. That would be fine if it were more emotional, but you followed to a T the structure of a typical ‘I achieved this’ essay. You started with an attention-catcher, went detailed, zoomed out a bit and stated what was happening, showed the effort it took to get there, and ended with celebration and a cliche lesson. Most applicants to top schools have an achievement to brag about, and too many of them write essays like this.”

Ava groaned. “Should I rewrite it?”

“Yeah. The essay needs to show more of who you are as a person.” He was expecting her to stomp away in frustration any minute now.

“Goddammit.” She sighed. “Okay. Thanks.”

His brows rose. What a tame reaction.

“How about the second one? It’s an alternative I wrote to the first.”

“There’s a second one?” He flipped to the next page. “This is long.”

“Yeah, I need to cut it down a bit,” she said casually.

A bit? Raine guessed it was 300 words over the word limit. He read the first few sentences. “So you’re going for the mundane essay,” he mumbled. It was about her cycling to school on a normal day. “I’ve only read a little bit, but it’s interesting. Better than the first essay.”

He passed her the notebook and grabbed his crutch. She gave him a confused look. “I’ll read the rest, but take a seat first.”

She’d been standing in front of him this whole time. “Okay, okay,” she said. She strode over to the empty seats next to Song Hyun-woo, as if by getting there quickly herself, he would get there quickly as well despite having an injured leg.

He made his way there and took a seat beside her. That’s when he noticed a square-jawed Korean man sitting nearby, wearing a black coat. It took a second for Raine to recognize him, but when he did, his jaw slacked. Holy shit it’s the crazy guy from the hotel. Raine frowned. He looks like a perfectly normal person right now, though.

Raine stared at the man warily for a few moments before Ava bothered him to start reading the second essay.

From then until it was time to board, he gave her feedback on her essay and made suggestions on what to change. They were even talking while in line.

“Oh shit,” she said, smacking her forehead, “I made that mistake on my USC application. I have to rewrite everything.”

“You already finished it?” Even he hadn’t been that productive in high school. “Wait, are the supplementary essay prompts even out yet?”

“Yeah, I finished it. I just based my essays on last year’s prompts. Of course USC’s just my safety, but—”

“Stop. USC is no one’s safety.”

“Huh?”

He proceeded to explain the typical definitions of reach, match, and safety schools. She was obviously hearing it for the first time. That’s strange. “Don’t you have a guidance counselor to tell you all of this?”

“My school’s guidance counselor is useless. He has to deal with hundreds of students, so okay, he’s overworked. But what’s worse is that he doesn’t know shit.”

Then they boarded the plane. She went to her business class seat, and he went to his economy one. A stewardess took his crutch and stored it in a closet.

“You sure get along with the girl well,” June said. They were on adjacent aisle seats. Edgar sat on the same row, but on the opposite side as them.

Briefly wondering why she was flying economy, he responded jokingly, “I didn’t get into my dream school, but if I can help someone else do it, I’ll get to experience an acceptance to an Ivy Plus vicariously.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to help her out?” June laughed.

“What, me?” Raine smiled. “I’m not that nice.”

Their conversation fizzled out after a minute or two, and the girl next to June—the one with the Stanford shirt—asked her how to recline her seat. It was her first time flying, she said.

Raine pulled his book out of his briefcase. The flight was going to be six hours long, and after that, they would have to get on another plane and fly some more. He opened the book and started reading. He hoped the flight would be quiet, boring, and smooth.

But an hour into the flight, the Stanford girl groaned. “I think I’m going to barf.”

She grabbed a paper bag from the seat pocket in front of her and hurried to the bathroom.

Raine sighed. At least it’s been a smooth flight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts,” the captain said through the speakers. “We’ll be experiencing turbulence soon.”

Well shit.

They bumped their way through ten minutes of turbulence. But it actually was an otherwise smooth flight.