My stomach grumbled at me, and I turned to the foil packet. Inside I found a large portion of the lasagna that had been at dinner yesterday, reheated so the cheese stuck in gooey puddles to the foil. God bless Mrs. Smith. I popped a bite into my mouth with my fingers, having forgotten to grab a fork at the mess hall, before retrieving the letter from my pocket. Time to see what Fitz wanted me to hide from Professor Green. I wondered momentarily what I should make her do to get it back. Something humiliating, although, if I was lucky, the letter would contain something embarrassing. Something that would put her in her place, take her down a notch. I flipped over the letter to see her name again and felt something twist sickeningly in my stomach. I took another bite of lasagna even though I knew it wasn’t hunger, and for the first time I wished I hadn’t decided to mess with her. Something about this letter sent prickles up my arm and made me feel uneasy, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I unfolded it and read.

I don’t have much time, so I’m going to get right to the point. This letter is exactly what you think it is, but it’s going to be fine. I promise. You and Elliot Mason are going to have to get over yourselves. But even as I write this, I know you won’t. At least not right away. So here’s the deal. Whatever happens, Elliot can’t level up tomorrow. So many things hinge on that, but I don’t want to freak you out with any more information than I have to. Besides, if I tell you too much, things won’t unfold the way they need to, and I hate to break it to you, but there is no going back now. A lot of lives are at stake here, so don’t blow this one like you just blew your Lincoln simulation for the fifth time.

Oh. And you need to know this:

Behind the curtain.

Belowdecks.

When the window breaks, grab me.

Trust the door will open when it needs to.

The prototypes are a bust.

Grab the key card when you have a chance.

Don’t forget about the one in his pocket.

That’s all. Good luck. Don’t screw this up.