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cafeteria, and my head turned toward the lifeline. Bren’s hand shot up over the heads of the other students, and I sighed with relief. “My friend is waiting for me,” I said. I wasn’t sure if Bren actually counted as a friend, but it was close enough.
    Soun Ling’s eyes looked daggers at Bren. “Already sucking up to the CEOs, eh?
    I should have known.” He turned his back on me.
    I swallowed, relieved but still nervous. What had he meant?
    Bren had saved a seat across the table from himself. When I approached the table, he pulled his notescreen off the spot and nodded at the empty chair.
    “Thanks,” I said, sliding into the seat.
    “Don’t mench.” He pointed at some of the people around the table. “This is Molly, Anastasia, Jamal, Wilhelm, Nabiki, and Otto. Everyone, this is Rose.”
    The others looked at me blankly, as if they had no idea why Bren had dragged me over but weren’t going to argue with what he thought best. “Hi,” they all said, almost in unison, then seemed to forget I was there as they turned back to one another. I hoped I wasn’t supposed to remember all of their names. They were a rainbow of diversity, but their hairstyles looked uniformly expensive, and the cells around their necks were universally top- of- the- line. Their notescreens were all top- notch, too —I recognized the same logo as on my own wildly expensive screen.
    I sat quietly at the table, nursing my food. I still couldn’t eat much without feeling sick to my stomach. The doctor told me it might be some years before I could eat normally. The others chatted on, making jokes and teasing one another. Usually when I was at a school for the first time, people asked me questions, and I answered. But this time all the questions had been asked by the reporters, and they’d heard the answers on the news. They didn’t seem to have anything to say to me, and I didn’t know what to say to them.
    After I had nibbled for a while in silence, Bren cleared his throat. “So how’s the day going?”
    I shrugged. “Okay.”
    “I saw you get set on by the jackals.”
    “Jackals?”
    “Yeah, Soun and his cronies. Bunch of burning speds. Their parents are wannabe rich. They like to hook up with the real rich kids and milk them for presents. Sorry, I should have warned you about them this morning.”
    “It’s okay,” I whispered.
    “No, I thought you’d be safe. We aren’t in their grade. I underestimated your fame.”
    I shook my head. “I’m not famous.”
    “I didn’t say you were an idol or anything, but absolutely everyone knows who you are.”
    I sighed, unable to look at my barely touched tray any longer. I felt nauseated.
    “Bren? Soun said to me . . . that I was already sucking up to the CEOs. What did that mean?”
    Bren grinned, self- deprecatingly. “That’s just what they call us. It’s because of our families. My grandfather’s just one rung down the ladder from Guillory.
    Executive CEO, not quite chairman, but really powerful. My dad’s on the board, about four steps down from that, and Mom’s head of research for the Central Graphics Department.” He started nodding to the other kids around the table. I noticed most of them had stopped talking the moment Bren opened his mouth. It reminded me a bit of the way people deferred to Daddy at company picnics. I wondered if Bren knew how powerful he was, or if he was oblivious. “Nabiki’s dad is the leader and creator of the Neuro- Linguistic Research Department.”
    “My mom is vice president of Research, Development, and Human Factors,”
    said one of the boys, a tall Nordic blond with a thick German accent. He had to be Wilhelm. “My father controls Uni Germany, back home.”
    “My parents head up the Bio- Chem Agricultural Quality Control Team on Titan,” said the girl named Anastasia. She sounded so Russian I could barely understand her.
    “And Jamal’s own half of Europa,” said the fiercely redheaded girl with the freckles.
    Jamal threw