Prologue

The Globe Academy was established for the pure purpose of pushing students to the very limits of their human capabilities. If anyone had high hopes for their children, they tried their hardest to get them into the Globe.

- He sprinted through the empty hall, hugging an arm around his side as every step sent another shot of agonizing pain riding his spine.

From preschool to the senior year of high school, the Globe could get anyone into college with a free pass to anywhere they desired by simply dropping the name. In a world of college application fees, all parents worked hard to give their kids even the slightest chance for a shot at the Globe.

~ She pushed hard on the pedals, watching the pavement crunch beneath the narrow tires of her bike.

All Globe Academy graduates wound up knowing at least three languages, and were connected to some of the biggest business companies in the world, guaranteeing the most enviable jobs in even America. Everyone else might as well have ended up with two part time jobs.

- He glanced over his shoulder. He could not see them yet, but he could hear their feet pounding on the marble tiles. And calling for his head. They would not stop.

It was nearly impossible to be smart enough for this school, and nearly so to be rich enough for it. The president’s son, the Prime Minister’s twin daughters, the dance studio’s prize students. Everyone who was anyone attended the Globe.

~ It was getting impossibly cold for early fall. She could not afford to take a break and be late.

- Dead end. He smacked hard into the wall, spinning his body to face out. He could defend himself better from the front. Of course, there was not much he could do with a broken rib. At least, it felt broken. Maybe two.

~ She kicked the kickstand out, dismounting the slender bike with a smooth movement. Her body ached, but she was used to it.

- He pressed himself into the corner, mildly comforted by the feeling of two solid walls around him while he could face the other outwards. Their shadows projected on the hallway opposite him.

~ She swung her backpack across her shoulders and disconnected the package from the back of the bike, tucking it under her arm. She would run. Her family could not afford for her to be late.

- They thundered into the hallway, fists clenched tightly, and one of them brandishing a hockey stick. He wondered briefly where it came from, considering that the school did not have a hockey team. That one would have to be watched even more carefully.

~ She let her eyes skate the campus. Gorgeous trees strung with lights, a string quartet playing over hidden speakers somewhere in the extensive gardens, mosaics designed into the walkways. This could not be a school. There was no way. And why would anyone at a school personally order their dry cleaning brought to them?

- He ducked a wild punch for his head, letting it slam into the wall behind him. They were not going to stop there; he had gotten the red Collective card after all. They could go as far as they wanted with virtually no repercussions.

~ Which one was the Humanities Building?

- He tasted blood.

~ Didn’t students have enough of an issue keeping up with classes without needing to navigate their maze of a school?

- His nose exploded, he was sure of it.

~ Oh, there it was. It was a freakishly tall building.

- There was an out. He ducked for it and rolled into the open. His entire body hurt, but at least there was a chance at getting out alive.

~ There was no way there could be enough students to merit this ridiculous campus. Oh well. That made it easier to book it to her customer.

- He stumbled onto the roof, tripping over his own feet. His school uniform was caked with blood already, but he did not care. So long as he managed to get out alive, he was happy and could not care less to come back to this school ever again.

~ Stairs were stupid. Way too many stairs.

- He leaned over the roof railing, trying to spot the stairs. There was only one person coming up the stairs, and it wasn’t that far of a drop. He was scared to yell down to her. She was not in school uniform, but she could be just as much a part of the crowd as anyone else.

~ She glanced up at the violent thump that sounded from the roof. There was a boy leaning over, shaggy blond hair sweeping forward to nearly cover his face. She cocked her head and waved a little.

- He didn’t wave back. He had other concerns. The pounding footsteps echoed on the cement roof behind him and he spun again, trying to ignore the blood seeping into his eyes. It would blind him. He was going to die at this school.

~ She paused on the step, frowning up at the roof. The boy did not look so good. She cupped her hand around her mouth.

- “You okay?” he heard her shout. He swallowed, shaking his head as he pressed his back to the rail. The crowd of boys congregated behind him cracked knuckles, popped necks, brandished a whole hockey stick, and overall looked like they wanted to kill him.

~ Something was very wrong, she could tell. She dropped the package and bolted through the open doors, trusting her instincts to guide her through the unfamiliar building. Just find more stupid stairs; those would eventually lead to the roof, probably.

- “Up on the rail,” one of the Seniors commanded, his lips twisted in a vicious smirk. He nodded towards it. “You can’t fight all of us forever. Jump now, or we could do it the slower way, couldn’t we?”

~ Had she not known there was any serious trouble going on upstairs, she would have faltered a long time ago. What Humanities Building was seven floors? That was beyond ridiculous.

- He steadied himself against the wall, balancing his feet evenly on the rail. His skin was clammy. It was so high up.

~ She thrust open the door to the roof from the stairs, throwing herself into a guy with an impeccably pressed uniform. “What’s going on?”

- All eyes swung to her. He twisted on the rail. Naturally, his foot slipped. His stomach dropped.

~ She yelped and lunged.

- His descent stopped with a jerk as an unnaturally strong arm fastened around his chest. His breath was ripped from his lungs.

Cameras flashed.