He swallowed.
“Sketch,” said Blacklight, calling Adrian by his alias and making him jump, “do you or your team have any follow-up questions before making your decision?”
Pushing aside the bag of popcorn, Adrian pulled the table mic closer. Nova fixed him with a challenging look.
“So,” he started, drawing out the word as he formulated his thoughts, “when you say you never sleep … you do mean never, ever, ever?”
A few snickers passed through the audience. Beside him, Oscar muttered, “Well said, Shakespeare.”
Nova McLain looked uncertain, like she thought maybe he was mocking her. When the audience had quieted again, she leaned forward and repeated, “Never ever, ever … ever.”
Adrian leaned back in his chair. He stared at her across the field and she stared back, unflinching. A volley of justifications were storming through his head, each more logical than the last.
A prodigy who never slept could be valuable—for surveillance, for security, for the simple mathematics of added work hours on the force. And they were without Danna right now. They were down a hand. They could use someone skilled in combat. She did say she was skilled in combat, right?
Plus, she was interested in science and electronics, and their research and development division was always looking for assistance, always starting new projects and running new studies. Surely they could use someone like this. Surely the Renegades could use her.
But all the logic in the world couldn’t smother the truth that Adrian felt in his drumming heartbeat.
There had been something about her at the parade. He’d been watching her when Magpie had taken the bracelet—that was the only reason he’d seen it happen. Because he’d been drawn to her, even then. Not because she was pretty, though he’d definitely noticed that too. But because there was a fierceness in the set of her jaw that intrigued him. A resolve in her eyes that made him curious.
“Uh, Sketch?” Oscar whispered. “If this is a blinking contest, you lost, like, eight minutes ago.”
Without looking at his teammates, Adrian grabbed the tablet. It was instinct, not logic, that forced his hand. The inexplicable certainty that she was meant to be there. With him.
Well—no, not with him. But with his team. And with the Renegades.
A bell chimed. His response popped up on the scoreboard—ACCEPTED.
Nova turned and stared at the board, as if in disbelief, and there was that suspicion again when she looked back at Adrian.
“Oookay,” said Oscar. “You go ahead with that. Not like we should discuss this as a team or anything.”
“Trust me,” whispered Adrian. “I have a feeling about her.”
On his other side, Ruby snickered. “Yeah, I can tell exactly what kind of feeling you have about her.”
Adrian turned toward her, annoyed. “Not like that.”
She raised a suggestive eyebrow.
An ear-splitting horn blared over the noise of the audience. Adrian jumped and glanced around, bewildered. It took him a long moment to understand what the horn meant.
Their decision was being challenged.
A few tables down, Genissa Clark stood, hands on her hips.
Adrian groaned and leaned back in his chair, dragging his palm over the top of his close-shaved hair. “Seriously, Clark?”
“The acceptance of Insomnia has been challenged!” said Blacklight, to a roar of glee from the audience. Adrian glanced at Nova, but she was so lacking in expression he wondered whether she knew what that meant.
“Oh, come on,” Ruby yelled. She pushed back her chair and stood, craning her head to look at Genissa. “You’re only objecting because it’s us.”
Genissa sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she yelled back. She pulled the microphone closer, allowing her voice to be amplified to the stands. “We challenge the acceptance of Nova McLain on the grounds that there is no way for us to validate the truth of anything she’s said. We can’t prove whether or not she sleeps, nor have we seen any evidence that she knows about electronics or physics or … any of that other stuff she said. We object to this acceptance on the basis that, from what we’ve seen from Nova McLain today—which is precisely nothing—we cannot determine that she is worthy of the title of Renegade.”
It was everything the crowd had come for. Drama. Doubt. A potential duel.
Adrian sighed and tried to catch Nova’s eyes, apologetically, perhaps, though he wasn’t sure what he had to apologize for. But her attention stayed fixed on Genissa. She didn’t look upset. If anything, a spark of excitement had entered her gaze that Adrian was sure hadn’t been there before.