THREE

They were gawking. They were whispering. They were staring.

I knew this would happen, so I ignored it all and settled in for my first class.

The professor came in, but he didn’t act any differently toward me than the rest of my peers. That was a relief. He came over to introduce himself to me. Brian Zerr. He told me right off the bat that he came from India. I wasn’t sure why he told me that, but I noted it and took a seat next to Hoda.

It was after class, after discussing advanced theories of coding systems, that it happened.

I was swarmed as soon as class was done.

I wasn’t going to remember their names. If they’d had name tags, I would’ve memorized them no problem, but they didn’t, and all the guys seemed to know each other. The university might need to rethink the idea that the IT department was one of the most isolated programs. These guys seemed like long-term buddies, asking about discord servers and if my dad was going to create the rumored AI forum.

One: that alarmed me. Slightly. It also excited me, too.

And two: artificial intelligence was unparalleled and unbarred. The possibilities of that … I was kicking myself for sticking to helping Cyclone with his robot rabbit when we could’ve been reading up on AI theories this entire summer. What the hell. Summer had been wasted, besides all the really great stuff that came out of it, like me getting a family, me getting a father, me falling in love with a scary and dangerous business guy, and you know, the whole other other world, like black markets and everything that Calhoun Bastian represented.

Besides all of that happening, total summer wasted.

AI.

Seriously.

That’s what these guys were into?

The question was rolling around in my head when Hoda took me to Ms. Wells’s office, and once I was in there, I knew we weren’t going to be talking about my class schedule, because I’d asked last spring to take on more than a full-time student’s load. I could handle it and I wanted to graduate in one year, not two. But seeing the set on her face, I braced myself. She had a round face with light pink freckles, strawberry-red hair that was combed through and styled to rest just under her ear, and a white satin blouse that was a size too small. It was snug, and there was a small pudge forming on her side, but as she shifted and pulled at her shirt to cover it, I wanted to tell her to let it go. Embrace the curve. And I was only thinking that because I was still nervous and worried, but I couldn’t quite point my finger on why I felt that way. It’d come to me, or more than likely Kash would just straight-up tell me.

“How was your first day at Hawking?”

I blinked.

That was … Okay. Not what I’d expected first. I was going to go with it.

“I’m processing everything.”

“The other students don’t know about your brain.”

Right. My photographic memory, which seemed to be sharpening with each year and not fading.

She picked up a pen, the end digging into her notebook, as she studied me. “They also don’t know about your tech skills.”

“Okay.”

I folded my hands together on my lap, frowning a little. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the stats, but I’m going to tell them to you anyways. There’s one student in your cohort with the IQ level of a genius. There are three students with the IQ levels just below genius. Five students are technical geeks, if that’s the term to use. They love computers. They love everything about computers, and their knowledge level is exceptional, but regarding their general IQ level, they are above average, which is typical for students in our department. The remaining three are newer students to the IT department and are here only to secure a job for their family’s security. The intelligence levels don’t factor into this equation because they’re the outliers. They are actually just normal people.” She paused. Her eyebrow raised. The pen ground more into her notebook. “Are you following me?”

My nails dug into my palms, just slightly.

She wasn’t coming at me like Hoda had, mistaking me for one of those “average” students. Ms. Wells knew my résumé. She was coming at me like I was going to be a problem for her or the department, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like it at all.

“Ms. Wells.” Shit. Was I going to do this?

I liked professors. Professors liked me.

I wasn’t a kiss-ass, but I was the student they never had to worry about or even try to teach. Give me a book and nine out of ten times I could teach myself. But I still needed to pay for the class hours to get that degree, and because of that, I utilized professors. I asked them questions that other students didn’t think about. Professors liked that, a lot.

They liked my mind.

This response wasn’t aligning with past professors.

I wasn’t accustomed to this behavior, and I wasn’t sure how to react to it. My father had never been an issue before. But now that people knew who he is, it seemed everything was going to be new for me. My heart was skipping a whole bunch of beats.

My palms were also sweating up a storm, but here goes.

“Yes?” she said.

Oh boy.

I let out a small pocket of air, wiping my hands over my jeans. “You’re judging.”

“Pardon?” Both her eyebrows were up now.

“You’re judging me. I’m not sure if it’s because of who my father is, because you probably got an extra call from both Goa and Busich, or hell, even if it’s because of who I’m dating”—her forehead puckered at that last one—“but I’m the type of student that doesn’t make waves. Being smart, I got teased a lot when I was younger. Like a lot. My cousins went to my school and they helped curtail some of the more aggressive people, but it happened. I’m a loner because of that, or usually a loner. I show up to class. I do the work. I do exceptional work. And I’m the type of student who wants to learn everything.

“I didn’t ask my father to make those calls. I didn’t ask to have two security guards with me here. Having said that, I know my father made those calls because he loves me, and he’s trying to make up for lost time. And the two guards are actually necessary. Who I was before is still me, but who I am now just means I’m going to have extra attention. That’s it.

“Those recommendations weren’t lying. I read them, each one. I can recite them to you word by word if you’d like, but those letters were also earned. Please judge me on those letters and not on who you think I’m going to be because you got two extra calls that other students don’t.”

She was silent when I finished, her mouth pressed together. Her eyes never wavered. She was taking me in, like she could sift through my own brain to figure me out, and then with a whoosh, all of what she was thinking disappeared. Her shoulders relaxed. Her eyebrows slackened. There was no more pinch in her forehead.

“Okay.” A low murmur from her. She was nodding, and she let the pen rest on the desk. “I started out by giving you stats to let you know that even though you’re the one genius student, what you’ve taken on is going to be too much for you, because of the recent events in your life.”

What?

I stiffened.

Had I read her wrong?

She leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk, her hands folded together. She lowered her head, still watching me. “But you’re correct in your assessment. I started out by judging you based on your father, and I wouldn’t have admitted that. I see now that upsets you. I apologize.”

Whoa.

Really? A professor who apologized?

“But I’m still questioning if you’re ready to take on the load that you asked for this year. You’re doing the advanced docket, and that’ll put you at finishing next August. It’s double the load.”

I had no money.

That was the practical reason I wanted to finish as fast as I could.

Kash had money. Peter had money. I was staying with Kash, so he wasn’t making me pay rent, but I wasn’t comfortable with how dependent I actually was, and there was a difference between earning money and receiving money.

Call it the Hayes pride in me, but I wanted to earn my own way.

I’d been planning on updating computer systems at Brookley Hospital to cushion my bank account before starting graduate school. That hadn’t happened, so now I was left to decide between asking for money, getting a job, or holding my breath until I slid through school and got my own IT job.

I was holding my breath through the year.

I leaned forward. My hands relaxed and I rested them on the tops of my legs. “I’m only taking on one extra course this semester. I know first semesters for grad programs are always the hardest and most intensive. Next semester, I’m doing two extra courses, and I’m doubling up for both summer minis.”

“Most students want time for a break in the summer second quarter. Are you sure you want to go straight through?” She switched to her computer screen and moved the monitor so I could see what she was seeing. She had my schedule up there. “You’re doing one full internship course during your winter break. That’s not usually even allowed.”

But it was for me. I did the paperwork. I made the calls. I got the permission.

I didn’t have the internship, but I had the university’s approval to have it early.

I didn’t say any of that, because she knew it, too.

“I have to ask you again. Have you fully thought about the load you’re taking on? You’re going to have more responsibilities, being Peter Francis’s daughter, and I know who you’re dating. You will not have time to sleep, eat, or even shower. As your advisor, I’m advising against this load.”

“No.”

My response was swift and fierce.

Panic rose up in me, clawing, digging its cold tips into my insides, and I panicked at just feeling how acidic that panic was.

I needed school. She didn’t understand. I needed it. I needed it like breathing.

If I was being honest with myself, it wasn’t about doing it in a year. It was about being so distracted that I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t remember.

The remembering was the worst.

She saw my reaction. “What is this about? You’re looking like you’re about to have a panic attack.”

Attack.

Memories assaulted me.

“That bitch talked too long…”

“Throw her in the back of the van…”

“KASH!”

My own scream ripped me back to where I was sitting, and I physically jerked in my seat. The chair clattered against the floor, and all the while, Ms. Wells wasn’t looking happy. A full cloud of worry was hanging over her. And I was back to weather analogies. Lovely.

“I know what happened to you.” Her words were kinder. “You need the school in order to deal, don’t you?”

I was so tense, but my eyes snapped to hers and I couldn’t look away. My chest was imploding, pushing inside me, and I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.

I got a nod out.

Technology. Computers. Codes. That was my world. Mine. I was comfortable in it. I lived in it. It’d been my life, my security blanket, and it was where I needed to go again or I wouldn’t be able to deal. I could get lost in that world, and I needed it. I needed it more than I had realized until just now.

“That’s not why I wanted to do the advanced track. I didn’t know what would happen to me, but…”

She was nodding. She was looking all knowing and understanding, and I breathed easier when she said, “Okay. Let’s do this. We’ll be fine. I’ll help you with anything you need, and I should also let you know that I’ve been given personal phone numbers for your boyfriend and your father. If I need to use them, I was instructed to use them, but no one else has their numbers.”

She thought that was funny. Her top lip curved up.

I grinned back. “Do Busich and Goa know that last part?”

“Not one bit.”

That was the part that she liked.