"We talked, had some laughs. You said you like horses," he said.

I had been in Club Rune, but I hadn't sat at the bar. He must have talked to Helena, before I reclaimed my body. That was how he'd known my name. His gaze was so intense, I thought it would melt me. I ran my fingers over the cool marble table. The overwhelming perfume of the flowers was not helping.

"I wasn't feeling like myself last night," I said.

He lowered his head to catch my gaze. "You want a rain check?"

I was about to turn him down, because theoretically, I was working. But the body bank hadn't contacted me yet. They knew how to find me via my chip. And they could call Helena's house if they wanted to reach me. So far, I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just waiting for them.

And the memory of that voice in my head convinced me I should not go to them.

"No," I said.

He looked at me with a question on his face. "No, meaning no?" he asked. "As in go away, don't ever bother me again?"

I smiled. "No." It was fun teasing him. "No as in no rain check needed. Just give me one minute, okay?"

I dashed upstairs to Helena's bedroom. I told myself the real reason I could justify this date was because I needed a big favor from him. This was my chance to make friends with an actual teen, not just some Ender claiming to be one. A teen with a car and the freedom and ability to go anywhere. He could deliver a favor and Tyler and Michael would benefit. I'd wait for the right moment and ask him.

I took the drawing of me off the dresser, folded it up, and slipped it in my purse.

Blake and I walked outside together. His car, a sporty red bullet, waited in the curved driveway. It had a brushed metal finish with smooth lines and no useless extras. He opened the door for me and then got in on the driver's side. The restraints whirred as they hugged us to the seats.

I noticed the gate was open. Maybe it hadn't closed last night?

As Blake pulled away, I saw the housekeeper, Eugenia, standing at a window on the second floor. Disapproval clung to her face like an extra layer of powder. And in case I wasn't getting the message, she shook her head from side to side.

We drove through the gate and onto the street, and suddenly my stomach tightened.

What was I doing?

"You okay? Comfortable?" Blake asked.

I nodded.

I was a sham. He was rich and I wasn't, yet there I was, pretending, wearing pricey designer clothes and acting like I lived in a mansion, with a servant, even. I knew I should tell him the truth about me, but how would it sound? Blake, guess what, I'm really a street orphan who sleeps on the floor of abandoned buildings and is only alive because of food salvaged from restaurant garbage bins. I have no home, no clothes, no relatives. Nothing. And worse, I sold my body to this place called Prime Destinations. Two weeks ago, I didn't look like this. They lasered and bleached and plucked and buffed me. And technically, this body now belongs to an Ender named Helena Winterhill, because she paid for it. You could be dating her right now, some hundred-plus-year-old woman, and not even know it. What do you think of that?

I looked over at him. He was blissfully unaware, driving with ease. He caught me staring and smiled, then focused his attention on the road.

I leaned back in my seat and inhaled the scent of new leather.

Did Cinderella ever consider fessing up to the prince, that night she was enjoying herself in the fancy ball gown? Did she even think of telling him, oh, by the way, Prince, the coach isn't mine, I'm really a filthy little barefoot servant on borrowed time? No. She took her moment.

And then went quietly away after midnight.

As we drove, I did the math in my head. I was thirteen when the war broke out and had been living the street life since I was fifteen. That was a pretty good excuse for this to be my first date. What I knew about dating came from watching holos with my dad, who loved them so. I remembered going out to the local Xperience for the total immersion of sight, sound, and weather. I missed how the seats would rumble and shift, making it feel like you were really in the cockpit of a spaceship or gliding along, flying with fairies. I loved it so much, I used to dream of doing it for a living, working with the creation of Xperiences when I grew up.

For me, dates were something out of musicals, where everything went perfectly, or comedies, where everything was zany and wacky. Which was it going to be?

Blake took me to a private horse ranch in the hills north of Malibu. The one time my dad had taken us riding at a public stable had been nothing like this. Those horses had been dull and tired, and we had mostly walked on flat, dry trails surrounded by skeletal shrubs. I'd thought it was the greatest-what did I know? But Blake and I rode through lush meadows on spirited Arabians with glossy chestnut coats. We trotted on a path through a pine forest and crossed bubbling streams. It was just the two of us, no other riders-no other people at all-as far as I could see. Blake was the better rider, but he paced his horse to match mine. I didn't want to go beyond a trot. I didn't dare risk falling and hurting myself.

After a couple of hours, Blake stopped his horse and dismounted. "Ready for lunch?"

We were in the middle of nowhere. "Sure. But no flash food drive-thrus here."

He smiled. "Just follow me."

He took the reins and walked his horse around a bend. Under the shade of a large oak tree was a table covered with food: several kinds of sandwiches, grapes, fruit kebabs, brownies. He saw my expression and laughed.

"I just asked for peanut butter and some chips." He shrugged.

He helped me dismount and we tied our reins to a tree. There were buckets of water and some hay for the horses.

He pulled out his phone. "Come here."

A quirky smile formed on his lips. I hesitated a second, then stepped forward.

He turned me around so my back was to him. Then he wrapped his arm around my neck and pulled me close. His skin was warm from the sun and smelled of sunscreen. I held on to his arm with both hands, feeling his strength. He held out the phone with his other hand, aiming the camera at us.

"So we'll remember," he said.

Click.

Without looking at it, he slipped his phone back in his pocket.

"Aren't you starving?" he asked.

We sat at the table and filled our plates. I noticed a large picnic basket on the ground.

"Who did all this?" I asked between bites.

"The fairies." He handed me a soda.

"They're artistic little folk. They even put out flowers." I touched a small vase of tiny orchids.

Blake pulled one out and handed it to me. "For you."

I took the flower and admired it. The petals were yellow with dark purple leopardlike spots.

"I've never, ever seen an orchid with spots like this," I said, touching the end to my nose.

"I know. They're rare. Kinda like you."

I felt my cheeks flush. I suddenly got very involved sipping my soda.

"So who are you really, Callie, girl of mystery?" he asked. "How come I've never met you before?"

"Then I wouldn't be a mystery."

"What's your favorite food? Don't think, just answer."

"Cheesecake."

"What's your favorite flower?"

"This one." I twirled the stem of the spotted orchid.

"Holo this year?"

"Too many to choose from." Didn't want to say I hadn't seen any.

"Animal."

"Whale."

"That came out fast." He shook his head and we both laughed.

"What about you?" I asked. "Let's do you."

"Color: blue. Food: potato chips. Instrument: guitar." He shot these out. "Cause: endangered species."

"That's a good one," I said. "Can I share that one?"

He squinted, pretending to be seriously pondering it. "Okay."

We sat in the sun for a long time, chatting and getting to know each other. I could have stayed there with him forever. But it was getting cold. I rubbed my arms.

"What do you think, should we go?" he asked.

I nodded and started to pick up the plates.

"Don't." He put his hand on my arm. "Someone will get it."

"Who, the fairies? It's kind of mean to make them work so hard, don't you think? Hurt their soft little fairy hands?"

"They like to work. They like the fairy salary."

"This is your ranch, isn't it?"

He pursed his lips. It seemed to me that he didn't want to boast. "My grandmother's."

I sensed something else, some sadness. It must have belonged to his parents at some point, but then they'd died, like every Starter's parents. I nodded. "Then we'll definitely leave it for the fairy hands."

We untied the horses and rode back as the sun was setting over the mountains. It had been a long time since I'd had a day when I didn't have to fight just to survive. My throat tightened at the thought of it ending. As if he could read my mind, he stopped and we watched the sunset together, our horses side by side.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

I wanted to gush, but I stopped myself. "It was okay."

I glanced over at him sitting on his horse and flashed him a smile. He returned it with one of his own. Then he just stared at me, one side of his face red from the sunset. I felt an invisible warmth radiate from him. If it had been an airscreen game, there'd have been tacky heart icons floating between us.

Suddenly a flash of guilt came over me about Michael. Even though we weren't really boyfriend and girlfriend, there was something special between us. And there were other reasons I had to stop thinking about Blake. Where could this go? Nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere.

I took a deep breath. Gave myself a mental slap. Stop analyzing and enjoy whatever time you have left with him, I thought as the last sliver of the sun slipped away.

In the car, I was thinking about how to ask him for that favor I needed. But he wanted to stop at his grandfather's mother's home. She needed help with her airscreen.

She lived in a tall condo building in Westwood. In the elevator, he explained that his great-grandmother's name was Marion, but he called her Nani. She never liked to reveal her age, but she was probably two hundred, he guessed.

When she opened the door, she wasn't what I'd expected to see. She was tiny, and her hair wasn't silver or bright white, but a soft off-white. She was wearing gray cashmere sweats. But the biggest surprise was that she wore her wrinkles with pride, skipping surgery and treatments.

She held my hand as she walked me to a chair. She smelled like lavender.

"Blakey, the airscreen won't turn on." She sat on a love seat near me. "He told me he might bring a friend over. I'm so happy to meet you."

Blake sat next to Marion and worked with her mini-airscreen in his palm.

She patted his hand. "He's such a good boy. I don't believe all this negative talk about the young people. You know, the ones who don't have good homes like you two. Everyone says all they do is fight, steal, and vandalize. That's not all they do, that's just what we hear about. I don't believe in putting them in institutions. It's wrong. How will they ever become contributing members of society if we don't integrate them?"

All I could do was nod. If only she knew my real story.

Marion leaned toward Blake and pointed at the air display. "You got it working already?"

"The cell was loose," he said.

"Have you met my son? Blake's grandfather?" Marion pointed to a painting on the wall.

I shook my head.

"He's a senator, you know." She beamed. "Senator Clifford C. Harrison."

"Really?" I looked at the portrait of a serious Ender. "You look like him," I said to Blake.

"He does, doesn't he?" Marion said.

"Nani ...," Blake said.

"Why shouldn't I be proud of my own son? And my great-grandson?" She pinched his cheek. "He's so good to me, calls me all the time. And comes whenever I need him. How many grandchildren can you say that about?"

He blushed. Cute.

In the elevator on the way to the ground level, I looked at Blake with even more envy.

"You didn't tell me your grandfather was a senator."

He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Now you know."

I liked that he didn't feel he had to brag.