2. Candice

CHAPTER 2

CANDICE

T he good news is, I'm not the last to arrive. But I could have been earlier. Four of the six are already here, getting to know each other, casting judgments and forming alliances. Not great. They all pause their conversation to stare at me, eight eyes burning into me like they're luring me into a web to eat me.

I will not be intimidated, not by anything.

I stride over and dazzle them with my best smile. "Hi, I'm Candice," I say, holding out my hand.

"Blair," says the first boy, taking my hand firmly. He has beachy-blond hair and the kind of white teeth and obnoxious personality you only get from money. Already, I'm clocking him as one to watch, if only for the bribe money he might have on hand.

"Daniel." The second boy has a weaker grip and a softer voice, but he's turned out to perfection, his head shaved, his dark skin moisturized and flawless. He has a kind smile. Maybe I could at least have one person to be friends with here, if he isn't going to be as nasty and cutthroat as the others. I need that kind of support. The isolation is what I'm looking forward to least about all this.

"Louise." I'm glad to see another girl here, but despite her round glasses, she has sharp eyes that suggest she's going to be hard competition. I don't want to make any assumptions about her yet, but I don't think she's quite the pushover her appearance would make you think.

The final boy has the tightest grip of all. "Kyle," he drawls. This guy clearly thinks he's the boss. He's wearing an expensive suit and musky deodorant. Clearly, he's used to being the leader of his clique. He looks down his nose at me, despite only being a couple of inches taller, and sneers. "Where have you come from?"

I stand my ground, looking him firmly in the eye. "I just graduated from Michigan. Summa cum laude."

Kyle raises his eyebrows in judgment at that. I let it slide over me. I have no doubt these kids all went to MIT or Berkeley or whatever, but I'm proud of my degree. I got that scholarship as a result of so much sweat and tears, so many sleepless nights, so I don't really care what degree Kyle's mommy's money bought him. I worked for it, and I got the grades to prove it. No one can take that from me.

To my relief, the focus shifts quickly back to their previous topic of discussion.

The relief is short-lived though, because Kyle has started bragging about his three-month stint in Ethiopia volunteering to help the poor, starving children. I share a look with Daniel, but then he goes ahead and details his European gap year, utterly shattering any brief sense of camaraderie I'd felt. He tells us about Paris and Athens and Ljubljana, and I wish I had a map.

I decide not to add anything else to this conversation, instead resigning myself to asking the occasional question, nodding and smiling to engage. The furthest I've ever traveled was Canada, once.

I thought that was pretty fun.

Blair is halfway through telling us about his prize-winning teenage entrepreneur project that he directed and created and organized and bossed his friends about for when the door swings open again. We all turn to look.

In walks another young man with the straight teeth, ideal physique, the slick, styled hair of a model and the most piercingly blue eyes I've ever seen. It almost looks like there's an aura around him from the way he walks with such confidence and self-assurance, and when he flashes us an easy grin, the thought wow, he's hot runs through my mind unbidden.

I frown at myself for thinking it — there's no way I'm going to get caught up in anything as messy as feelings. But I'm not wrong. His suit must be tailored, because it fits him like a second skin, the blue of his shirt bringing out his eyes, the paisley on his tie suggesting he's suave but not boring.

He strolls over like this is the most casual event in the world and not something that stands to change all of our lives forever. I guess if you've got the money, opportunities are as easy to find as daisies.

"Hey," he says. His smile is broad and, now I'm looking closer, ever so slightly crooked. It's charming. "I'm Aiden Fisher."

We all mumble our hellos and shake his hand. He lingers a little as he holds my hand, his eyes meeting mine. When he smiles, a jolt of attraction shoots through me. When he lets go of my hand, I almost wish he hadn't.

"Where did you graduate from?" asks Kyle. I'm glad to see it's not only me whom he's treating with this much suspicion.

Aiden shrugs. "Harvard. Not that the hiring team will give a damn about that. They'll be basing their decision on how we perform here, not on our résumés."

Kyle's face crumples like he's swallowed a lemon. He manages to recover quickly, but not before we've all seen him flounder. Aiden shoots me a wink, and I can't help but smile in relief. We're all here to win, but it's good to know I have an ally at last.

The interrogation goes no further than that because the door swinging open interrupts us again. This time, though, we stay silent. The CEO of Fletcher Tech isn't the kind of guy you talk over, especially not when you're trying to persuade him to give you a job.

"Sit," commands Mr. Fletcher, and we all obey.

He walks slowly and deliberately to the head of the table and places his palms on its surface so he can loom over us. I bet this is his favorite time of year, scaring all the new interns. I clench my fists under the table and fight to keep my face a pleasant neutral.

"You're already the best of the best. That's why you're here. A Fletcher Tech internship is something that looks good on anyone's résumé — job or no job. But this is business, and if you're expecting an easy ride, you should quit now. This isn't a game. There'll be no prize for petty sabotage or teenage bullshit. The job will go to whoever proves to me they can work hard enough for it."

My heart is racing in my throat. No matter what Mr. Fletcher says, all my rivals are out for blood and they won't hesitate to spill it. I guess that's what he's trying to show us — you have to look like you're in the right, even if you're doing dirty deals behind people's backs.

Am I cutthroat enough to do this? Working hard is what I'm all about. It's all I know.

"You'll be getting the full program documentation later today. I expect you all to read it. Ask questions if you have to. But don't ever be late. I expect all my employees to know exactly what they're doing every day, and for the next four weeks, that's what you are."

We all nod, mute in terror or excitement, it's hard to tell. Blair and Louise look like they're caught in the headlights about to get run over. Kyle has that same smug smirk he's worn since I arrived. Daniel and I both have the same look in our eyes: awe, fear, and determination.

Only Aiden looks at all relaxed, almost slumped in his chair. What makes him so cocky that he thinks he can slouch like that? He barely even looks like he's listening.

I stare at him for maybe a little too long, and he must notice me looking at the absolute lack of tension in his square jaw and broad shoulders because he glances over at me and wiggles his eyebrows. I look away sharply, a hot blush rising in my cheeks making them cherry-red.

Ugh! I don't have time for this!

I push all of my swirling emotions down and focus hard on Mr. Fletcher. I can work through all this stuff later. Right now, I want to know what we're doing.

"Now, who wants to sit in a development meeting for the new Fletch phone?" All our hands shoot into the air, and Mr. Fletcher grins wickedly. "Good. We're going to have a little competition for it."