“I wanted to have this conversation with you privately, before the awards begin,” she murmurs. “Celine—you aren’t a Golden Explorer.”
I’m so pleased to be having a private chat with Katharine that it takes a moment for her words to trickle past my happy little haze. As soon as they do, I feel the smile slide right off my face. “Pardon?”
She just looks at me.
I know I messed up the last expedition. I was just so worried about Brad and so upset with myself and now I’m even more upset with myself because imagine throwing away a scholarship over a boy—
No. No, that’s not what happened at all. Brad is not just a boy, he is a person—he is an important person—and it’s okay to have feelings, even if those feelings are about people, even if those feelings come before perfection every so often. I know this. I believe this.
I also feel ABSOLUTELY SHIT ABOUT MY LACK OF SCHOLARSHIP RIGHT NOW.
Then Katharine says, “However,” and there’s something about that one word that makes my ears perk up like a dog’s. However what?
Katharine is still speaking. Pay attention! “I realize,” she says, “there were…extenuating circumstances that may have affected your performance on the final days of the expedition. I can’t change your scores, but having reviewed your performance, the footage you recorded during the final expedition, and, of course, your initial application, which was really very good, Celine—”
I glow like the little lightbulb that could.
“I would personally like to offer you an internship,” Katharine finishes.
I blink. “I’m sorry? An internship?” Does she want me to do what Holly and Zion and Rebecca did? Help others become Breakspeare Explorers? That’s very kind of her, but I’ll probably be super busy with uni and also wracked with resentment that I didn’t get the scholarship, so—
“With me,” Katharine says. “I know you mentioned an interest in corporate law, which is not my field, but if you’re open to other avenues, I do offer summer internships to one or two students each year. Just an opportunity to shadow me and—”
Wait, what? What?? WHAAAAT???? I am so dizzy with excitement I even think I see the curtain behind her dancing. “Really?” I ask, mortifyingly breathless.
“Absolutely,” Katharine says with a little smile. “You’re a remarkable young woman with an incredible educational record. And I rather enjoy your TikToks.”
This can’t be real except it’s way too detailed for a dream, so…maybe it is? An internship with Katharine Breakspeare would be…perfect. Beyond perfect. Way better than anything with the firm I’d hoped to intern at because actually I’m not interested in corporate law anymore, and I’m not interested in grinding my father’s firm into the dirt, but I am interested in getting an up-close-and-personal look at the legal superstardom that is Katharine Breakspeare—
Who is still waiting for an answer, Celine. Pull yourself together! “Wow,” I breathe inanely. My heart is fizzing like champagne. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I would love that. I’m absolutely interested in other avenues. I’ve decided I’m definitely open to other fields and I so admire your work and an internship would be—” An honor seems too feudal and my liege-y, so I swallow my excited babble and say simply, “Yes, please.”
Katharine laughs and pats me on the shoulder. I may never bathe again. “All right. I’ll be in touch. Enjoy the party!” Then she drifts off into the crowd, her steps perfectly in time with the piano music coming from the corner of the room. My heartbeat, however, is not in time with anything, except maybe the speed of sound.
“Ohhhh my God,” I breathe.
“RIGHT?” says the curtain, and I almost scream until Brad steps out from behind the fabric.
“Bradley!” I splutter. “What the bloody hell are you doing in the curtains?”
He wrinkles his nose and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was looking for you out of the window. Then I heard Katharine talking and realized no one could see me and it’s like, what do you do? Step out and give Katharine Breakspeare a heart attack?”
“But you don’t mind giving me a heart attack,” I snort, hand still pressed tight to my chest.
“Well, you’re not nearly as important to the culture. Toughen up, Bangura.” But he winks and steps closer. His hand finds mine—not the one on my chest, that would be a bit scandalous, but the other one—and I can feel him fiddling with the button on my glove. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d be happy to see me.”
I am. I love you. Is now a weird time to remind him? I don’t know how to do this stuff like a normal person. “Um,” I manage.
He laughs and it’s reprehensibly gorgeous. Brad is extra handsome tonight, his hair freshly twisted and kissing the tips of his eyelashes, his skin glowing against the deep purple of his three-piece suit. “I’ll just infer from the available evidence,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking the bare skin of my wrist.
“You look lovely,” I offer. “Even for you, I mean.”
“And you,” he says, his eyes soft, “look like Katharine Breakspeare’s intern.”
A grin spreads across my face. I temporarily forget all about Brad’s hotness because I am Katharine Breakspeare’s intern. “I do, don’t I?”
“Yep.” His grin matches mine. “It suits you. I knew you’d—”
A muffled tap tap tap sounds through the room and the music subtly quiets. I turn to the stage and curse Katharine Breakspeare’s name for the first time in my life, because she’s up there with a microphone interrupting my moment. “I think it’s time we honored our Explorers,” she announces, “don’t you?”
Right, yes. I suppose that is technically why we’re here.
BRAD
I hold Celine’s hand all the way to the stage until we’re separated by the tyranny of the alphabet. She heads toward the front of the line to stand next to Aurora, who looks adorable in a pink dress that matches her permanent blush. At least I’m next to Sophie, who is wearing lavender of all things （really did not have her down as a pastel girl, but she looks good）。
“Hey, Romeo,” she mutters as everyone’s called, one by one, to the stage. “You and Celine married yet or what?”
“Pending,” I murmur back.
Katharine calls up the kid in front of me.
“Are you gonna propose when we go to McDonald’s later?” Sophie asks.
“If you’ll take a picture of us kissing under the golden arches.”
“Deal.”
Katharine calls my name. After she hands me my fancy, rolled-up Explorers certificate, Celine catches my eye and beams.
I love you.
Eventually, all nine of us are standing up there, being honored or whatever, and it’s time to name the Golden Explorers. I’ve already accepted I won’t be one of them, which doesn’t matter because （1） it was nice of the BEP to include me at all, since I missed most of the final expedition, and （2） when I look out at the crowd, I see my parents watching me with a pride so fierce even the most panicked and pessimistic corner of my brain can’t ignore it or explain it away. Mum and Dad know what I want for my future now, and they know that, no matter what they think, I’m going to get it. But the way they look at me is still the same.