Suddenly Ivan's arms drop, and he's no longer looking at me. He's staring up at the catwalk instead. I assume it's a trick. He'll clock me as soon as I turn around. But then I notice that everyone else in the gym sees the same thing he does.

The glass has cleared. A message has been sent. Our visitor is calling an end to the fight. It's a blond girl, and she's up there all alone. It's hard to be certain from this distance, but she doesn't seem old enough to be an employee or alumnus. She looks like an angel. The kind you put on top of a Christmas tree. I expect her to flutter down from the heavens, but she just smiles and walks away.

"Rusalka," Ivan mutters under his breath.

"Who?" I ask. "Do you know that girl?"

Ivan grins. A thin stream of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth; then he spits two teeth on the floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE BEAUTY PAGEANT.

How do you feel?" Lucian Mandel asks me. He's perched on the edge of my bed. I haven't even had a chance to rinse Ivan's blood off my hands.

I glare at Mandel. I want to kill him. But he can give me something else I want more. So I won't. I'll let him live. Because I'll do anything, anything. But nobody said I have to pretend to enjoy it. "Like you've wasted three f-ing weeks of my life," I respond.

"Is that what you think?" When he smirks, I could rip his whole head off. "Did you imagine that life at the academy was going to be easy? I assure you, it was just as arduous back in your father's day. But I thought you might be pleased by the results we've produced in the past few weeks. Don't you see how you've changed?"

He points to my reflection in the mirror. The plentiful food and nonstop exercise have made an undeniable impact. The gym clothes I was given when I first arrived are at least a size too small. My T-shirt and sweatpants are speckled with blood. But it's my face that's truly transformed. There's nothing pretty about it anymore. I finally look like the person I've been trying to be. Still, I don't need to hear about the merits of suffering from some pampered little ass- hole who wouldn't survive a deep-tissue massage.

"The first time you fought Ivan, I didn't feel the need to intervene," he confides. "I knew you weren't capable of inflicting real damage. It wasn't in your nature. But today, you weren't just planning to kill him-you wanted to torture him first."

It's true.

"How would you know?" I snarl. "You weren't even there."

"Gwendolyn told me she had to stop the fight. You must have seen her."

"You mean the blonde on the catwalk?"

"Yes. Pretty, don't you think?"

His knowing look makes me sick. "I think you're way too old to be drooling over girls her age. Who is she, anyway?"

"A very talented young lady. You see, the best and the brightest are granted special privileges here at the Mandel Academy. Gwendolyn is our Dux, the school's top student. It's an important position, and one that comes with quite a few perks-before and after graduation. Gwendolyn acts as my ambassador to the student body, and I respect her opinion. So I always allow her a first peek at our newcomers. She was very impressed by what she saw today. She's looking forward to meeting you."

"Is that why you're here? To play matchmaker?"

Mandel rises. "Your hostility is misplaced, Flick. Try to remember-you aren't angry at me. I'm just here to help. I have only your best interests in mind."

I couldn't count how many times I heard my dad say the same thing. Whatever he did to me, it was always for my own good. "Really? I seem to recall a little wager you made with my father."

"Yes, but I can't win the wager without you. One might say we're teammates. No matter what happens going forward, please try to remember that. And don't forget the reward that will be waiting for you at the end of this ordeal. In nine months, you could have all the proof you need to send your father to prison. But you won't earn the right to graduate in September unless you set everything else aside and fight for it. That's the best advice I can give you. I recommend that you take it to heart."

"So you're telling me I should do whatever it takes to help you win your bet. Is that your idea of a pep talk?"

Mandel hears the question and ignores the insult. "I suppose it is. But it will need to be the last for a while. Once you're upstairs, I can't show you too many favors, Flick. I do hope you understand."

"I think I'll live." And Mandel will stand a better chance of surviving if the little runt stays out of my sight.

"I'm very happy to hear that. Now that we've had this chat, you're free to dine with the rest of your class tonight."

"My punishment is over?"

Mandel sighs wearily. "You weren't being punished, Flick. You may have tremendous potential, but we'll need to work hard to tap it. You came here a weak-willed little boy. My methods may seem harsh, but this school will transform you into the man you yearn to be."

"And what if I've decided I don't want to change?" I ask just to screw with him. "What if I decide to flunk out?"

"That's not an option you should attempt to pursue," he advises me. "Stay and learn what I can teach you. In time, you may even come to see me as your mentor. Perhaps we'll be as close as my mother always was with your father."

I can't help but snort at the thought.

"I know it must seem unlikely now. But this is only the beginning of our relationship. I have much to teach you in the months to come. You've made great strides during your stay in the Incubation Suites. But your real education begins in twenty-four hours."

My calculations were off. I must have lost track of time. "Tomorrow is my last day in this hell hole?"

"This isn't hell, Flick," Mandel says with a laugh. "I think you'll find it's much closer to limbo."

My sweats are in the trash. I'm dressed in proper attire for a change. The door of my cell should open any moment now. This morning will be devoted to orientation. Mandel gave us the news last night before dinner, then left the five of us alone to celebrate. A lavish feast had been prepared for the occasion. There was even wine, which none of us bothered to open. When we weren't chewing or swallowing, we all held our tongues. No one was watching from the catwalk, and there were countless questions I wanted to ask. I'd like to know what the other students have seen since they've been here, and I still have no idea how much they've been told. But I couldn't bring myself to break the silence. It doesn't matter anyway. I have a hunch I'll be finding out soon.

The door slides open, and I make my way to the media room. This time, the academy's mysterious set designers have furnished it to resemble a corporate boardroom. Five Herman Miller chairs are lined up on one side of a sleek glass table. They're all facing the movie screen. Behind the table is a wall of windows. I know it's just a mural painted on a canvas backdrop, but I keep expecting to see birds fly past through the clear, blue sky.

I'm the last to arrive. When I settle into my seat, a video begins to play on the screen. It's a walk-through of the nine aboveground floors of the Mandel Academy. I wonder why the other students seem so captivated until I remember that none of them were ever granted a tour.

The video ends, and an academy employee circles the table, handing out room assignments and card keys to all five students. Then he steps up to the podium at the front of the room. He's clearing his throat when Lucian Mandel arrives. The employee blinks like the sight confuses him. Mandel must not make many appearances at orientation sessions. He's here for me.

Mandel sidles up to the podium. He's all smiles, like a game show host greeting a new panel of contestants.

"Hello, everyone!"

"Hello." Felix is the only one who responds.

"As you all know, you'll be moving upstairs this evening. It will be an experience you'll remember for the rest of your lives. Have a look at your new schoolmates and then settle into your rooms. Get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow morning a new semester begins for all students. In a little while, you'll be given your class schedules. The books and supplies you need are already waiting for you in your dorm rooms. Your clothing is being transferred as we speak."

Mandel's tone shifts, and the smile fades. I lean forward. I can tell his speech is about to get interesting. "By now, you've gotten a sense of what the Mandel Academy can offer you. Life is a battle, and this school will teach you to win. We chose you because you possess one key advantage over other people your age. Most teenagers in this country are pampered and spoiled. They're kept sheltered from reality and protected from unpleasant truths. But all five of you have already discovered exactly how brutal the world really is. You wouldn't be alive if you didn't know how to fight.

"Each of you has what it takes to win. But in order to do so, you must dismiss everything you learned outside of these walls. And you must accept no restraints. Laws and commandments are for sheep. Racist and sexist stereotypes are for fools. Before you arrived here, you may have been judged by your gender or the color of your skin. Your clothing, accent, or manners may have served to keep you in your 'place.' Your families' religious beliefs may have been forced upon you.

"Here, our students begin their new lives with none of these limitations. You'll find you've been given the same advantages as the rest of your classmates. Your social skills are equally polished. And prejudice simply doesn't exist at the Mandel Academy. Everyone at this school has the same chance to succeed. Starting tomorrow you will be judged solely on your talents, intelligence, and inner strength."

He steps away from the podium and approaches our table. He's so cool, so confident. His words flow so freely that they sound like the truth.

"To keep things fair, we must limit your access to the outside world. Everyone you'll meet inside this building is a product of our program. The academy's instructors and employees were once students just like you. We don't allow guests or observers. During your stay, you will be completely immersed in the Mandel philosophy. There's only one rule that we insist you follow: Always strive to be the best.

"Here at the Mandel Academy, the strongest and brightest students will rise to the top. The lazy or weak will quickly fall to the bottom. You'll soon discover that the competition is fierce. Every four months, we admit six new students. Some are ready to leave after a few semesters. Others require years of instruction. Only the nine best students over the age of eighteen are allowed to graduate each September. If you're among the select few who succeed, your hard work will be rewarded with power, wealth, and prestige.

"First, the academy pays for all graduates to attend an Ivy League university. In return, we expect you to earn reasonable grades-as long as they don't come at the expense of your social life. The connections you'll make at Harvard or Yale will be far more valuable than the education you'll receive. Then, once you receive your diplomas, your careers will begin. No matter what line of work you pursue, we guarantee a starting salary in the midsix figures."

I hear someone gasp. Mandel beams.

"Our alumni dominate the worlds of business and politics-and life is good at the top of the food chain. But the journey to the top starts here. If you intend to graduate from the Mandel Academy, you will have to fight for the privilege.

"We don't expect you to leap into battle immediately, of course. We want you to have ample time to study the lay of the land. This is why all students are granted immunity for the first month of each semester. No one is expelled during the Immunity Phase. But don't rest on your laurels. Your instructors will be watching you, and unless you prove that you're worthy of this school, you may soon find yourself right back where you started. On the streets or in jail, with no hope for the future.

"This might sound hard-hearted, but we refuse to coddle our students. The Mandel Academy believes in the survival of the fittest. You each possess remarkable strength. Now it's time to see what you're willing to do with it. I wish you all the best of luck. Does anyone have any questions?"

The room stays silent. What is there to say? That it sounds too good to be true? That I know there's a catch?

"Wonderful. Then I will see you all upstairs!"

As soon as Mandel is out the door, the media room lights dim and the academy's headmaster reappears on the video screen. The camera is tight on his face, making every freckle appear enormous.

Welcome to the Mandel family! Over the next few minutes, I'm going to take you on a trip to the future. The major you'll be assigned at the end of this video will set you on the path that you'll follow for the rest of your life. Some paths lead to fame. Some lead to social prominence. But every path that begins at the Mandel Academy will lead you directly to fortune.

The camera zooms out. Mandel is on Wall Street, with the famous bronze bull right by his side.

If you're good with numbers, you may have been chosen to be a finance major. After graduation, you'll be working with money, and Wall Street will be your stomping ground. Everyone in America sends their savings here, hoping the dollars will multiply. But few people understand what really happens to the funds they invest-which means no one knows who to blame if it all disappears.

Suddenly Mandel is strolling down the corridor of a sleek, ultra-modern office building.

If you're a business major, you're destined for the corporate world. As the future CEO of a successful company, you'll need to learn all the tricks to turning a profit. We'll teach you how to gather intelligence on your competition, keep whistle-blowers in line, break whatever rules may stand in your way, and bend any laws that aren't good for business.

He opens a door and enters a conference room. Two teams of stony-faced, suit-clad warriors face each other across a table. None of them appear to notice Mandel's arrival.

Which is one reason why law majors will always be in great demand. You're the ones who can argue either side of an issue-and twist any facts to serve your client's needs. You can make the guilty look innocent. The greedy appear bighearted. The unethical seem honorable. You have the temerity to inform a judge that the sky is green-and the sheer brilliance to make him believe it.

The camera cuts to the floor of the US Senate, where Mandel is sitting with his feet propped up on some senator's desk.

If you happen to be both persuasive and telegenic, it's likely you have been chosen to be a politics major. Fame and power are both perks of the job. But your primary role will be to make life a bit easier for your fellow alumni. You will craft laws that favor their businesses-and vote down any legislation that's designed to restrict them. You will also be called upon to provide well-timed distractions. Get the whole country arguing about sex education or gays in the military, and Americans will stop paying attention to all the things they should fear.

The scene fades and Mandel reappears at another desk in a room lit only by a computer screen. A young man sits beside him, tapping away at a keyboard.

The Mandel Academy's newest and broadest major is technology. Whether your focus ends up being computer hacking, voting machine fraud, or simple identity theft, you'll quickly discover that your skills are of tremendous value to your fellow alumni. Technology is an excellent major for students who prefer to work in solitude-or those who find small talk and personal hygiene to be onerous chores. These days, it's quite possible to get filthy rich without ever setting foot in a shower.

The camera zooms in on a video that's playing on the computer screen. Mandel is aboard a yacht at sea. A dozen beautiful girls in string bikinis lounge in the background while a pair of glassy-eyed playboys split a mound of cocaine.

Another wide-ranging major is leisure studies. It's a sad fact that many of the best things in life are currently illegal. Some of you will provide the goods and services that make existence more agreeable for our country's ruling class. Others will work with the bottom rungs of society. Wherever your career happens to take you, you'll find yourself in a position of great influence. Your customers will crave your wares to such a degree that they'll willingly part with their cash-and their secrets-to obtain them.

Mandel steps off the yacht and magically appears on the narrow New York street just outside the academy.

All those secrets will be of great use to our human resources majors. If you've been chosen to pursue this particular path, you will have the most important job of all. The academy's human resources department ensures that the Mandel family business always runs smoothly. Should one of the alumni need assistance, you'll know which of her colleagues is best able to provide it. If a graduate comes to you with a problem, you will instantly know how to solve it.

Mandel pauses outside the academy's front doors. His expression is stoic as he addresses the camera.

And on those rare but unavoidable occasions when our family squabbles or faces a serious threat from the outside, enforcement majors serve a vital role. You will be trained in martial arts, weaponry, and forensic science. You are the academy's defenders and guardians, and you'll make sure that the Mandel family is able to prosper for the next one hundred years-and beyond.

Mandel opens the academy's front doors, revealing an interior awash with light. We follow him as he strolls across the ground floor. Then he stops, his feet planted on one of the glittering spheres in the center of the atrium, and turns to face camera. The sun has gilded Mandel's beige linen suit, and even his skin seems to glow like gold. The smile on his face couldn't feel warmer or more radiant.

So! Now that you've had a glimpse of your future, it's time to experience it. Congratulations! Your new lives begin today!

The video fades to black. When the lights come on, the employee leading our orientation reappears with a stack of glossy blue folders. I focus my attention on the other four students. Their faces are blank now. I wish I could have seen the expressions they were just wearing in the dark.

"These are your schedules. Each of you has been assigned a major based on the results of your psychological assessments and the skills you've displayed during the Incubation Stage. Your classes have been chosen for you this semester. Next semester you will be allowed to pick your own."

Finally-a real moment of truth. The man places a folder in front of Ella. "Your major will be finance." She seems perfectly relaxed as she pages through the materials. She's had time to read a few course descriptions, but I see no trace of surprise on her face. For a moment I'm disgusted. You'd think Ella was heading off on a Caribbean cruise instead of embarking on a life of crime. Then I realize that she doesn't have a choice. None of them do. That's why they're here. I'm this semester's only volunteer.

I'm "business." I don't need to examine my class schedule. I already know what I'll find. Ivan's major is "enforcement." That should help him get into Harvard. Aubrey and Felix's folders are both labeled leisure studies. Aubrey just gazes at the documents in front of her, but Felix opens his folder eagerly. I watch his expression shift from excitement to confusion to horror.

"There's got to be a mistake," he croaks.

The man walks back to Felix's chair and peers over the kid's shoulder. "No mistake," he announces.

"But Mr. Mandel just said we'd be rich and powerful. These classes teach people how to be pimps!" He spits it out like it's the nastiest word he knows. It probably is.

"Yes, well, given your talents, personality, and life experience, we feel you should pursue a career in the sex trade." The man sounds blase, as if explaining such things is the most tedious part of his job. "You'll be on the business side from now on, of course. And I think you'll find that it can be a very lucrative and influential line of work."

"But . . . Mr. Mandel said the academy was about new beginnings," Felix argues. His tan, pretty face is contorted with agony, but he's still holding back his tears. "I came here to escape from my old life. Now you want me to major in it?"

The man remains unmoved. "You came here because you were arrested for prostitution. And I'm afraid our assessment showed that you aren't well suited for an unrelated career. If you're not interested in learning what we'd like to teach you, you may leave the academy as soon as the Immunity Phase is over."

"What if I want to go now?" Felix asks.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," the man says.

Felix begins to sob, and the man goes about his business. Ivan studies his class schedule, and I can see he's struggling to understand some of the words. Aubrey continues to stare at the table. Ella is the only one watching the weeping boy. I have no idea what she's thinking.

It's eight thirty in the evening, and we've all been herded onto an elevator. Someone must have had a little chat with Felix after orientation. His eyes are a bit puffy, but the tears have finally stopped. I glance at the elevator's control panel. A single light is lit. All of our new dorm rooms appear to be on the eighth floor.

The gate is pulled shut, and the elevator begins to rise. We pass another underground floor, and then we emerge into open air. I know that we're climbing the side of the atrium-the giant opening cut through the center of the building-but the lights are out on the lower levels. With darkness all around us, it feels like we're suspended in midair. Once we pass the classroom floors, our surroundings finally begin to take shape. A few lights are on in the dorms. I look up and see that our schoolmates are waiting outside our rooms to greet us. They're leaning over the balcony that circles the atrium, eager for their first look. They're quiet. Serious, but not solemn. They're sizing us up. The elevator stops.

I think back to the sunny morning when I first visited the academy. The school is a very different place at night. With the dorm room doors standing open, the eighth floor is bright enough to navigate. But the balcony itself is dimly lit, and the atrium in the center is a bottomless abyss. Right now the place looks less like a school than a prison.

"Line up behind me," orders the employee. "Single file."

We follow him like five little ducklings. All rooms open off the balcony, which is roughly the size and shape of a running track. I suspect we're taking the long route to our lodgings so the other students have enough time to examine us. They step to the side, giving us just enough room to pass. There must be around fifty of them, and some are crowded so close that I feel their breath on my skin. It's not the friendliest welcome I've ever received. I don't think it's meant to be. I can't see my fellow newbies' faces, but I bet at least two of them are on the verge of pissing their pants. I spot the girl named Gwendolyn, and she smiles straight at me. She's stunning. Porcelain skin, pale blond hair that shimmers in the weak artificial light, and huge round eyes the color of chicory flowers. There's something serene about her. She doesn't seem as hungry as the rest of them.