“Rue, did Eli mention anything about Kline when you two met last night?” “Hang on—Eli?” Florence’s eyes widened. “You met Eli Killgore last night?” If I’d been the fidgeting type, this would have been my time to squirm. Luckily, I’d long trained myself out of that kind of stuff. Robotic, I’d once heard another grad student whisper after I was cold-called in bio-nanotech class and neglected to display whatever the appropriate amount of distress was. Stone-cold bitch, my fellow ice skaters had said, because I was the only one not to burst into tears when our team missed the podium by a fraction
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