“Of course!” Rodgers replied. “It’s nothing to worry about at all. We just need to have a quick talk about something. Well… it might not be that quick, but still, it’ll be fine.”

I swallowed, trying to stop the bile from rising in my throat as fear pulled at me.

“Okay,” I said quietly, sitting down and watching as Rodgers shuffled in his seat, a slight grimace on his face.

“Urgh. You’d think I’d get used to this damn brace, but it’s still annoying as hell,” he grumbled. “Every time I sit or stand, or even just move, I just want to tear the thing off and deal with the consequences. I mean, do I really need to be able to bend my knee?”

He glanced up at me as if waiting for my answer. My instinct was to agree with him and tell him that he didn’t actually need to, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I mean… yeah, kind of,” I said instead, feeling anxiety jump even higher within me.

Rodgers wasn’t annoyed, though. He just laughed.

“I know,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Always follow the doctor’s advice, and if you think you don’t need to or that they’re being stupid, get a second opinion.”

His tone was firm, and I felt myself nod, which made the smile return to his face. He was acting like he normally did, I told myself. There was nothing different or weird about the way he was behaving, and that had to be a good thing, didn’t it? If there were something wrong, I would have been able to tell. He wouldn’t be joking and speaking so casually.

But he was a good actor. He had to be. It was a class we were made to take at the Academy. We had to learn how to lie and conceal how we were really feeling. It was a necessary part of being a spy. Even the videos we’d been watching in the library before mentioned that. We started early, pretty much straight away, so we could get as much practice as possible. A field agent who can’t lie is useless.

Rodgers checked his watch, swiping the surface of it. His eyes darted back and forth as he read something before shooting me a flat look.

“Of course, she’s not going to make it,” he muttered. “I swear that woman never stays in one place for more than five minutes. What did she do last year when she didn’t have someone else to do everything she didn’t have time to here?”

I had no clue who he was talking about, but I felt like I needed to answer him. I was the only person in the room, and he’d looked at me. It felt weird not to say anything.

“I don’t know?” I said, but it came out like a question.

Rodgers’ lips stretched into a smile.

“Really, Grace. You don’t need to be so nervous, I promise,” he told me. “Nothing bad is happening. I just wanted to talk to you about your time in the induction wing.”

His promise made me feel a bit better, but the relief was quickly drowned as he finished the sentence. That felt like a bad thing, like he was about to tell me that my time in the induction wing was over, and I was being kicked out. I really didn’t want that to happen.

“What about it?” I asked, my tone tight.

My hands were shaking. I didn’t want him or anyone else to see how nervous I was, even though I knew it must have been obvious. I laced my fingers together in my lap, gripping them so tightly that I was pretty sure I was cutting off the blood flow.

“It’s not a bad conversation,” he tried to reassure me, clearly seeing through my facade. “It’s a good one! You’ve done really well since you’ve been here. It’s clear that you’ve thrown yourself into learning, and I think you should be really proud of yourself.”

I couldn’t bring myself to feel any pride. It felt too much like there was a ‘but’ coming. Rodgers was going to say something about how I wasn’t trying hard enough or just wasn’t achieving enough despite my initially promising results. I hadn’t had the chance, though. My meeting had only just happened; I didn’t have time to show them how hard I could work.

Rodgers was still looking at me. His expression was almost expectant, and I forced a smile onto my face.

“I am,” I said.

Even I heard how bad it sounded.

“You seem it,” Rodgers chuckled.

I looked down, chewing my lip.

“Sorry,” I muttered, unable to meet his gaze. “Please just tell me. Am I being kicked out?”

“What?” he asked, sounding so shocked that I looked up at him. “No, no. You don’t need to worry about that!”

A tiny amount of relief washed over me, but I knew that I wouldn’t feel completely better until I knew what he wanted to talk to me about.

“Okay,” I said, pausing before asking, “Then why did you want to talk to me?”

Rodgers hesitated.

“I’m going to apologise in advance,” he said. “I know I’m really bad at this. There’s probably an official way to do it, a speech or something that we’re meant to give, but I skimmed that part of the handbook. In my defence, I thought Brice would be here to do it, and I wouldn’t have to, but…”

He trailed off, and I waited for him to continue. His eyes darted towards his computer screen, as if searching for a way to say what he was about to. I saw his hand moving quickly as he scrolled down the page, still looking for something.

“But?” I prompted.

“How have you found your time here so far?” he asked, a smile appearing on his face as he found whatever he was looking for.

My heart thudded. I knew that he’d reassured me that nothing bad was happening, but it still felt like a trick question. It was too similar to what Ms Brice had asked me during my meeting. He’d been there too; he’d heard my answer, and that made me hesitate. I needed to think carefully, try and remember exactly what I’d said to them before so that I didn’t say anything too different. It might make them think that I was lying or hiding something.

“Good. I’ve really enjoyed it so far,” I said, fighting the urge to wince as I realised I’d made a mistake.

My answer was too similar to what I’d said before, and that felt wrong too. I searched for something more to add, anything really, but Rodgers had already begun talking again.

“And how are you finding the classes?” he asked, his eyes darting to his computer screen.

He was reading the questions out, I realised. Why? There had to be a reason why he was asking me them. It didn’t feel like a normal talk. If it was, he would have been able to just speak without having to check that he was saying the right thing.

“Good. I mean, I think they’re really interesting.”

“All of them?” he prompted, looking back at me.

I hesitated.

“Mostly,” I said carefully, making him snort. “I mean, there are some that I don’t enjoy as much or find harder, but they’re still interesting. They’re taught well here. That helps.”

Rodgers nodded.

“I found that too when I was a kid. I don’t know what your school was like before you came here, but they actually care about what they’re teaching here and find it interesting, which makes a huge difference.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Some of the teachers seemed to care at my old school, but not all of them. It’s kind of hard to pay attention when it’s clear the teacher doesn’t really want to be there, you know?”

I was getting too comfortable, I realised. My posture had started to slip, and I forced myself to straighten up, tightening my grip on my hands. I was used to just chatting with Rodgers, and I’d fallen back into that without even noticing. It was dangerous. I needed to be more cautious.

“Oh, completely. I still remember this one teacher I had who spent the whole lesson looking at his watch,” Rodgers said with a laugh. “I get that our class was just before lunch, but you’d think he would be less obvious.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I laughed along with him.

“Yeah, you’d think.”

He smiled, his eyes flicking to his screen.

“What’s your favourite class so far?”

I had to think about that.

“I honestly don’t know,” I said after a few seconds. “There are so many I enjoy.”

Rodgers nodded, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Are there any that have surprised you?” he asked.

He didn’t look at the screen that time. It sounded like he honestly wanted to know the answer.

“I guess fitness,” I said. “I didn’t really like PE at my old school, but it’s fun here. Languages, too, but we’ve not really had too many classes on them yet. I actually really enjoy most of the subjects.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” he replied. “And what about your friends?”

He’d glanced at the screen that time, and that worried me. I didn’t know why he was asking me that, but I knew that I needed to answer carefully. I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.

“I like them,” I said awkwardly. “They’re nice.”

Rodgers laughed, and I couldn’t help but join in. It was such a bad answer. It just felt flat and dumb, but I wasn’t sure what else to say. They were nice, after all.

“Okay, good. I’m glad,” he said with a grin before adding, “And what do you know about the induction period?”

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my pulse speed up.

“Um… just what I’ve been told or read in the folder, I guess,” I said.

“Fair enough. Do you know what the purpose of it is?” he asked, reading the question from his screen.

“Um…” I started, trying to recall the answer. “To get used to life here and have all the tests and stuff?”

That didn’t feel like a good enough response, but Rodgers smiled nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it! Life at the Academy can be quite different to how you lived before, so having a more structured and controlled environment can help with that adjustment,” he said. “It can make things a little less overwhelming.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed.

I’d heard that before, I was almost sure of it. Someone had explained it to me, or maybe I’d read it in one of the textbooks, but I didn’t understand why Rodgers was talking to me about it. Perhaps someone had said they didn’t think I was adjusting very well, or maybe they thought I was becoming overwhelmed?

“Another really important part of the induction period is that it teaches people what working in intelligence is actually like,” he continued. “A lot of people come into the Academy with a really skewed vision, based on things they’ve seen in movies, but obviously, it’s rarely realistic.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say or do. It felt like I should respond or say something so that Rodgers knew I was actually listening to him, but I forced myself to stay quiet. I’d be repeating myself if I said anything. I’d already told him I agreed and that what he was saying made sense; it felt weird to repeat myself. I’d sound stupid.

My phone buzzed in my hand, briefly pulling me out of the world, and I looked around, blinking in the bright sunlight. I was still in the car, I realised slowly as I squinted out of the window before reaching for the visor and pulling it down. My eyes darted towards Mom, making sure that she hadn’t noticed I’d barely been there before I checked my phone.

Hey, how’s your day going? Is it super warm up there too? Duncan had asked.

I felt my lips start to lift, but I pressed them together quickly, glancing at Mom again. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the road.

Hey! I typed back. Pretty good so far, just got up and started packing mostly. Heading out to lunch now, though. How about there? Yeah, it’s really hot here today.

I stared at the message, my finger hovering over the button to send it. Something about it felt off. It might have just been anxiety and indecision leeching in from the other world, but I almost wanted to delete the text and try again later. That might have been better. I would have had more time to actually think about what I was going to say and phrase it better.

Shaking my head slightly, I sent the message. I was being silly. It was just a text, nothing more. I didn’t need to deliberate over it or make sure that it was perfect. I’d sent Duncan hundreds of texts before, probably more. It was fine.

But still, anxiety fluttered within me as I reached out for the other world.

“And what do you know about leaving?” I heard Rodgers ask.

I hesitated, trying to work out how much I’d missed. Not much, I didn’t think. It had only been a few seconds.

“You can’t until after you pass the induction period,” I said.

“No, no. I meant leaving the induction period,” he clarified. “Do you know what you need to do to pass it?”

I searched my memories for an answer, finding it quickly.

“You need to pass all the medical tests, the educational ones, and… show a dedication and aptitude for learning,” I said, recalling Ms Brice’s words.

“Pretty much, but you don’t need to pass the educational tests. You just need to sit them. It doesn’t matter if you get full marks in all of them or if you get zeros across the board.”

“Great,” I said, knowing that I wouldn’t be getting full marks in any of the tests.

“And where do you think you are on that journey?” Rodgers asked, clearly reading the question from his computer again.

I opened my mouth to speak before closing it again. Instinctively, I wanted to say not far, but I knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t correct. I’d finished the educational tests, I knew that. It was why I’d finally been able to have my meeting with Ms Brice and Rodgers. So, unless they’d decided I needed to sit more tests, I’d at least done that.

The medical tests seemed to be over, too. I hadn’t had a blood test in at least a week, and I was pretty sure I’d passed all of those. Someone would have told me if something had come up on the tests, wouldn’t they? It would have been cruel not to, and the people at the Academy didn’t seem cruel from what I’d seen. Some were a little… strange, but they weren’t mean.

That meant I’d finished two out of the three things I needed to do to pass the induction period, but the last one was the most difficult to work out. It wasn’t exactly something that could be measured, so how was I meant to know if I’d shown a dedication to learning?

“What do you think?” Rodgers prompted me.

“I know I’ve finished the tests,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure I passed all the medical stuff.”

“You have,” he confirmed.

Relief washed through me, and I felt myself sit up a little straighter.

“But I don’t know about the last part. I mean… how is it measured?” I asked.

A smile appeared on Rodgers’ face, and he nodded.

“That’s a fair question, and annoyingly, I don’t really have an answer for you,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Personally, I think it’s kept intentionally vague so that it can be different for everyone. No two people are the same, and as long as you’re trying, that’s what matters.”

I understood that, and it did make sense, but still, I felt irritation flare within me. Part of me wished that the Academy was less fair. If there were one scale, one way of measuring people, it would have been so much easier. I could have compared myself to others and actually assessed how I was doing, but without that, I couldn’t.

“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to push my annoyance aside. “Well, I’m not really sure in that case. I’m trying, but I could probably be doing more.”

“Could you?” Rodgers asked.

I paused, looking at him as confusion washed over me.

“What?” was all I could think to say.

“Could you be doing more?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

His question was curious, gentle almost, and I didn’t know how to answer it. I could always be doing more. I could put more effort in or just try harder. There were a million things I could be doing better, but somehow, I knew I needed to give Rodgers a specific example of how I could improve. He wouldn’t be satisfied if I just said I needed to be better. He’d ask more questions, push me to come up with an actual answer.

“I could… get up earlier and study before class during the week,” I said. “And I could study more at the weekend.”

Rodgers’ lips pressed together, and I felt my stomach tightened. His expression was disapproving, and that alarmed me. I’d said the wrong thing; I knew that. I opened my mouth to say something else, another thing I could do to improve, but he was already speaking.

“Would that not interfere with your sleep?” he asked.

I swallowed nervously.

“I guess, but that’s fine. I can always go to bed earlier or something.”

If anything, his expression became more disapproving.

“Okay, so say you start to go to bed an hour or two earlier,” he started, “that’ll eat into your free time. When will you relax?”

“I don’t know,” I said, searching for the right answer. “At dinner time, I guess.”

Rodgers raised an eyebrow at me.

“Did you already have the lessons about mental health and burnout?” he asked.

I fought the urge to wince. We had. Dr Adda had told us all about the importance of rest and relaxation in order to combat burnout. Apparently, we were more likely to struggle with it. We were being pushed into high-pressure jobs, and a lot was expected of us. It was natural to find it difficult to manage, according to him, and spending time with friends, having alone time when needed, and engaging in hobbies were all key parts of mitigating the effect or protecting against it.

“Yes,” I admitted.

Rodgers’ lips twitched, as if he were fighting the urge to laugh.

“Okay, so… is it possible or healthy for you to do anything more than you’re already doing?” he asked.

The tone of his voice made it clear that there was a correct answer, but I didn’t want to give it. It felt wrong to say I was doing as much as I could. I wasn’t. I could always be doing more, doing better. I was lazy, didn’t put in as much effort as I should, and I procrastinated. I always did. If I was able to fix that, to try harder, I’d be better. I’d do better.

But that wasn’t what he wanted me to say, and I knew it. Discomfort grew within me, the feeling unbearable as I juggled my two options. I either had to argue with a teacher or say that I was doing my best, and neither seemed right. I didn’t want to say either.

“No,” I forced the word out.

I hated it. I didn’t believe it at all, and I didn’t want to. I had to believe that I could do better. It mattered to me so much, and I wasn’t sure why.

Rodgers’ smile was sympathetic.

“So, with that in mind, would you say you’re showing a dedication and aptitude for learning?” he asked. “Sorry, it’s one of the questions I need to ask.”

“Yes,” I replied, the word so soft I could barely hear it.

But Rodgers’ did. His grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair.

“Good! I agree, and so do the rest of the tutors!”

“What?” I asked, confusion coursing through me.

“You’re clearly trying really hard here, and you spend almost too much time studying, which is being kept an eye on,” he said. “You’re about twenty minutes a day away from me needing to have a firm word with you about balance.”

“Okay,” I said.

It was all I could think of to say. I still couldn’t get over the fact that the tutors thought I was doing well.

“Great! Not only does everyone agree that you’re doing great, but you’ve actually been given a lot of house points since you arrived here,” Rodgers informed me.

“I have?” I asked. “I don’t remember getting any.”

“Ah, yes,” he said with a nod. “Unfortunately, that’s intentional. I think it’s stupid, but those in charge think it’s a bad idea to openly give people house points during the induction period. Apparently, it might foster competition in an unhealthy way. Instead, we have a small celebration once everyone has passed the induction, where the winners are announced.”

“Oh,” I said. “That makes sense, I guess.”

“It does, but I still hate it,” he said with a shrug. “The whole point of house points is to cause competition, and that makes everyone work harder. But we’re getting off-topic. I didn’t bring you here to complain about the house points.”

My body tensed, and I dug my nails into my hands to try and distract myself from the fear that was building within me.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, my voice uneven.

“Because the teachers have voted, and they are all in agreement. You’ve passed the induction period.”

“Moron!”