Chapter 1

I finished blow-drying my hair and stepped out of my bathroom, feeling refreshed from my post-workout shower. I examined my nude body critically in the full-length mirror, comparing myself with the hi-res digital pic I’d taken when I ordered the exercise equipment.

It does look like my abs are getting firmer. I turned slightly to look at my backside. No sag left in buttocks. Glutes getting firmer. I turned back. Maybe my breasts are a little higher. Hard to tell.

My body doesn’t have to be perfect now. Or even next week at the Academy interview. Three years to get it into perfect shape. Dean Porter will just want to see potential. And commitment. I’ll convince him I’ve got commitment out the wazoo.

I sighed and lay back on my bed, taking a rare moment to relax. The interview was coming up, and it would be easy to be nervous about it, but somehow I wasn’t. I smiled. Nerves are for people who don’t believe in themselves.

I tilted my head back to look at Miranda’s head, on the flat shelf topping the headboard of my bed, and rolled over to see her right side up. I brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her right eye. “You knew I could do it before I did,” I whispered, “I won’t let you down.”

I jumped slightly at the knock on my door. “Who?”

Andrew’s voice betrayed a slight annoyance. “Who do you think?”

I shook my head. Could have been Dad, could have been Melville. Andrew always thinks he’s the world’s only person. “Minute.”

I decided Andrew wasn’t worth the time it would take to throw on a pair of shorts and a shirt. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom, using one hand to hold it closed. I automatically examined my shoulders in the mirror. They seem bigger. Maybe broader. I should have measured some things earlier so I could tell.

I unlocked the door and gave Andrew a sour look. “What do you want?”

Andrew’s eyes went wide, his throat showing a visible gulp. He seemed to be flicking his eyes over whatever bare skin was available to be seen. Oh, come on, Andrew. You’ve seen lots of women with nothing on at all. And have I acted like I’m at all interested? “Well?”

“I—I...”

Andrew was acting oddly enough lately, but it wasn’t at all like him to stammer.

Finally he seemed to gather himself. “I was thinking you should get one of those genetic tests. Most people do at your age, you know.”

I knew about the tests, which screened for any known genetic diseases that might be passed along to one’s offspring. But why on earth would Andrew care if I had one. I squinted at him, trying to read his expression. “Andrew, of all people who might need one of those tests, I’m at the bottom of the list. You know I’m going to the Hanging Academy. I’m not going to have kids, and I’ll be dead in three years.” I kept my voice low. I hadn’t told Father about the Academy yet. That would be delicate. It was within his rights to forbid me to go. The Academy wouldn’t admit anyone against their parents’ opposition.

He shook his head. “You don’t know you’re going there ... Amy.” It still sounded strange when he used my actual name, in place of whatever demeaning epithet he’d been about to use. But he was getting better at it, the hesitation was barely detectible. “You haven’t even interviewed yet.”