Chapter 5
When I reached the edge of the playground, Freya popped out from behind a tree.
"I heard everything," she said.
Her voice shook with anger.
"Luella, Tiffany never used to be like this. She treated you like her own kid. How could she turn around and help people who are walking all over you?" Freya asked.
The past was the past.
But her son had fed her enough carefully chosen details to swing her to the other side.
"Freya, that competition doesn't matter to me," I said.
"Doesn't matter? That's a national competition. The winner gets a direct shot at the international finals," she blurted out.
I knew that.
In my previous life, I won gold at nationals, qualified for the international round, and ultimately drew the attention of the Byrne Research Institute.
Back then, I gave it all up. I stayed behind to be with Ethan.
Now, they were making choices on my behalf.
In that case, I wouldn't hold back anymore.
"Freya, can you do me a favor?" I asked.
"What do you need?" she replied.
"Head to the print shop next week and print a file for me. I'll send it over. Keep it between us."
Freya studied my face. She had a short fuse, but she wasn't dense.
"What are you planning?" she asked.
"You'll know soon enough."
She glared at me, but nodded anyway.
"Fine. But you're racking up quite the tab of explanations, Luella. What game are you playing?" she asked.
I didn't answer.
High above, a jet cut across the blue sky, leaving a thin white contrail behind.
The international finals were hosted in Vesperia. If the reply to my email came through, that plane was heading right toward my next stop.
*****
In mid-June, Winnie took my place in the national science qualifiers.
I didn't bother showing up.
Freya went, though, and returned with a conflicted look on her face.
"Winnie made the cut. Scraped by right on the cutoff line," she said.
"Okay," I replied.
"But Luella," Freya said, slapping a stack of printed papers on my desk, "one of the judges grilled her on experimental design, and she blew the answer."
"Then how did she pass?"
"Because of Ethan."
"What did he do?"
Freya snorted. "He went and talked to the professor who wrote the prelim questions. God knows what was said, but that professor's lab happens to be supported by the Lincolns' endowment fund. You know the Lincolns donate lab equipment to Faircrest High School every year."
I knew.
The Lincolns weren't an ultra-wealthy dynasty, but around here, they carried serious clout. They sponsored the school every year and had good connections in the education system.
"Luella, he's pulling every family string to pave Winnie's way. He stripped everything from you and handed it to her on a silver platter: the direct admission, the research, the competition spot. What else does he want to take?" Freya said.
I stared at the stack of papers Freya had printed for me.
Right on top sat the formal invitation from the Byrne Research Institute.
The reporting date was two weeks out.
"Freya," I called.
"Yeah?" she replied.
"If I leave in two weeks, keep it to yourself."
She opened her mouth. She stared at the documents, her anger giving way to absolute shock.
"Luella, you're leaving the country?" she asked.
"Don't say anything yet."
"What about your passport and your visa?"
"It's all being taken care of. Carly used to work at an agency, so I reached out to an old colleague of hers."
Freya took a deep breath, gathered the documents as I said, and locked them in her own desk drawer.
"Fine. My lips are sealed." She met my eyes. "Tell me you aren't running away, though. If this is you running scared, I won't support it."
"I'm not running away."
"Then what is it?"
I thought for a second, trying to find a way she'd accept.
"I'm going somewhere beyond their reach, to do what I was always meant to do," I said.
Freya was quiet for a long time.
In the end, she gave a firm, decisive nod.
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself," she said.
"I will."
*****
That night after dorm lights-out, an email lit up my phone.
It was from Cayden Carter, head of the Byrne Research Institute. He was a premier neuroscientist who had worked across Vesperia for three decades.
He had extended the very same offer to me in my previous life, and back then, I turned him down.
His message tonight was brief: [Confirmation received. We will cover your travel and accommodations. Please arrive before the end of the month. Looking forward to welcoming you to the team.]
I locked the screen and lay back in the dark.
Cicadas were buzzing outside the window.
Ethan mapped out a neat, mediocre life for me at a local state college. He believed two hundred grand and a second-tier degree were enough for me.
He had no clue what I gave up.
And he never would.