Page 23 of The Art of Exiley

Dear Ada Castle,

We are pleased to notify you of your acceptance to the Genesis Institute. Tuition and room and board will be included as part of a full scholarship for the duration of your studies. We eagerly await your response.

Sincerely,

Master Michelangelo Loew, Community Liaison

I tap to their website. “The Genesis Institute: for exceptionally gifted pupils” is splashed across the page with the same logo. The site looks completely mundane, like a regular private school. But I know better.

For an instant I consider deleting the email and hiding the box at the bottom of the trash. No one needs to know I received an acceptance. I could go upstairs right now and fill out those college applications. A worthless liberal arts degree and a lifetime of student debt could still be mine.

And I wouldn’t have to think about stealing anything from anyone.

The memory of how I felt when I saw Michelangelo’s prisoner statuesrises in me. I look at the newspaper on the coffee table, headlines full of calamity. I watch the steady rise and fall of Grandfather’s chest, knowing his health is declining by the day.

Or I could decide to stop being helpless.

A tingling warmth prickles the scars on my palms, and this time I don’t let myself suppress it.

6

Three days later I’m wandering around one of the Families’ contemporary art galleries as I wait for my ride to Genesis. I spent a grueling morning in the offices upstairs receiving rushed instructions from Family members who all treated me like a kid who shouldn’t be trusted with any information. As if they could do any of this without me.

I’d also been up half the night with Kor, who had given me a completely separate set of instructions from the Oculus.

I’m still shaken that the Oculus even knows that someone like me exists. I thought they worked with people more like… I don’t know, the Pope and the CIA. But, apparently, they also work with Kor, and by extension, yours truly.

In addition to learning about the Makers, they want me to find a way for them to gain access to the school. They also believe that there is some form of ritual or device that can give non-Sires the ability to create and use Ha’i. I am to confirm whether it exists and get all the information necessary to steal it.

Because yours truly is also now a thief, I guess.

I stop in front of a painting of an angel in flight. Confident brushstrokes capture the movement of her outstretched wings and the impossibility of her vivid, ethereal beauty. I know the painting well; it’s one of Kor’s olderpieces. The art world recognized Kor’s talent years ago, but now with his music fame, the value of his work has skyrocketed.

I remember when Kor finished this painting. He’d gazed at it wistfully, then wondered aloud if his perfect girl was one too perfect for this world. It was back when I was still hoping he’d realize that I was his perfect girl. Even years later, with that desire far behind me, I can’t forget the heartache I felt in that moment, knowing I’d never be good enough for him.

I’m definitely no angel.

The familiar click of high heels and the subtle scent of bergamot and orange blossom make me turn with pleasant surprise.

“You thought I wouldn’t come to see you off?” my mother asks.

“We said goodbye last night.”

Mom had ordered a ridiculous mismatch of foods from my three favorite takeout spots, and we’d had a family dinner with Grandfather and Sal and Kor. It had been really nice, though it didn’t feel right without Izzy there.

“Give me a little bit of credit.” She pulls me into a hug. “I miss you already.”

I already miss her too. Miss the relationship we used to have compared to how busy and distant she’s become. She’s always been a workaholic, but these past few months have been next level.

“You know that all I want is what’s best for you, right?”

“Sure, Mom,” I say into her champagne-colored silk-blend blazer, which I know will still somehow be stain free by the end of the day.

She kisses the top of my head. “Ada, I mean it. I would never have allowed them to send you to this school just to be their errand girl. I’m only letting you go because I think it will be good for you to learn from these people.”

I roll my eyes.Lettingme go. Maybe she could trust me to make my own decisions instead of trying to micromanage everything. I know she’s trying to be nice, but all I hear in her words is relief that I might finally develop some actual talent, mixed with her lack of belief that I could possiblyaccomplish anything meaningful for the Families. Kor said this is the most important thing the Families have ever done, and yet my mom just sees me as anerrand girl.

She would think that since I’ve never lived up to her standards of excellence. She is the ultimate perfectionist; from her looks, to her nutritional intake, to the phrasing of her text messages—everything must be perfect, perfect, perfect. Anything less than exceptional is failure.

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