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CHAPTER1
CANDICE
The red light of the sign declaring this building to be Fletcher Tech HQ leaks down the glass and I take a deep breath. I’ve imagined this tower a hundred times and dreamed of what it must be like inside. I’ve spent so many nights in my shitty student apartment on the other side of the country knowing that it’s my fate to come here, knowing that I would step through those doors and find myself surrounded by success.
Inside this building are some of the most intelligent people and some of the most cutting-edge tech in the world. And now I get to be part of it.
All my hard work has been leading up to this point — to be an intern at one of the world’s top tech companies. One of only six interns chosen for this year’s competition.
It’s a pretty big deal.
So here I am, in my most expensive pantsuit that I took to the dry cleaners and everything, fresh out of college, in a new city, wavering on the threshold of my new life. I take another breath. I won’t be intimidated. I have dragged myself through years of struggling and built myself up from nothing. I can do this.
The revolving door does another loop. I count to five, and the next time an opening swings past me, I step in.
As I walk into the cavernous atrium, my heels click against what looks like a solid-granite flooring. I’m sure it is, honestly. It’s not like Fletcher Tech couldn’t afford to be made of gold if they wanted to be. There are certain pros to being one of the biggest companies in the world.
I don’t know why, but I’d imagined this part of the building to be empty, devoid of any life except for a lone receptionist, perhaps. Instead, it’s bustling. Women and men dart back and forth, all dressed in smart suits and skirts and not one hair out of place. Some people travel in groups, leaning in close as they have hushed and excited discussions; others dart across the floor with armfuls of papers or boxes filled with wires and components. One woman taps her foot, waiting for the elevator, and when it finally arrives, she rushes in and jabs at the “close door” button until it obeys.
If I hadn’t been nervous before, I definitely am now. Still, appearances are everything, so I hold my head high and stride across to the reception desk, hoping I don’t look too much like a lost child ready to be shown the door, even if I really feel like one.
“Hello,” I say to the receptionist, interrupting whatever document she’s busy typing.
She doesn’t look up at me until she’s finished whatever thought she’s busy having, and when she does she glares so many daggers that I might as well have been stabbed. “Welcome to Fletcher Tech. How can I help?” she says, but her smile and tone are anything but friendly.
I guess customer service isn’t one of the things they teach the admins here.
I stand firm, resisting the urge to slouch and fold my arms or, worse, turn and make a break for the door, caving in to the anxiety in my chest. “I’m here for the summer intern program. I was wondering if you could tell me where I’m meant to go?”
She doesn’t sigh and roll her eyes, but she might as well have, given the contempt with which she directs me. “Take the east elevator. Fourteenth floor. Keep going to the end of the corridor, turn right. It’s the meeting room third on the left.”
With that, she turns her attention back to her three computer screens and resumes typing so fast that her fingers start to blur. Impressive, if a little scary. I’m glad I don’t have more questions; I don’t think they’d be answered.
Slowly, I back away from the desk and look around me as subtly as I can. Of course, neither of the two elevators are labeled, and people seem to be going into both of them pretty equally. The door opens for the one on the left, so I decide to go for it and hope for the best. I have some vague thoughts about sunrise and east and trying to remember where the sun is now, but standing there trying to work it out would have made me look like the kind of person I’m trying not to be.
I am assertive. I am confident. I am good enough.
I march to the elevator and slide inside.
A bunch of other people get in with me and I’m treated to a weird mix of expensive perfumes and pungent aftershave that would have given me a headache if I hadn’t been able to escape it. Better than body odor at least. Nobody looks twice at me, which is a good thing. If people are ignoring me, then I must blend in at least a little bit.
It takes forever to get to the fourteenth floor and my imagination is starting to run wild with every creak and groan the elevator makes. About the worst thing that could happen right now is to get trapped in here. That would be a disaster for my first impressions. I’m already running kind of late as it is.
Fortunately, the elevator doors do slide open and I’m spat out along with several other people. I follow them to the end of the corridor as instructed, but I’m starting to get nervous that I’ve got this wrong again so I half-run to catch up to one of the wandering men.
He’s tall and imposing, and though he can’t be much older than forty, he’s prematurely balding and graying, which gives him the look of someone who has been here for such a long time that he’s integral to the operation of the place. Maybe heisan important guy. I don’t want to talk to him, but it’s this or being so embarrassingly tardy that I might as well go home.
“Excuse me,” I call.
He turns, startled. His expression is one of the sternest I’ve ever seen, and a knot of fear twists in my gut until he says, kindly, “Can I help you, miss?”
“Um, yeah. Do you know where the summer interns are meeting? I think it’s in a room on this floor.”
He frowns, drawing his bushy eyebrows together. I brace myself for him to tell me to get lost, but then he nods slowly, as if he’s mapping where to go inside his head. “Intern time again already, huh? Follow me.”
Without warning, he turns on his heel and marches off. His strides are so long that I almost have to run to keep up, blindly following as we turn round corners that all look the same to my untrained eye. “You planning to win this year?” he asks, not looking back at me.
“Sure am,” I say, and mean it. Only one intern gets a job here after every summer, and this year it’s going to be me. I didn’t do all this work to get here only to leave in four weeks’ time empty-handed.
