The memo showed the list of students who were participating in the sim test tomorrow morning at eight. The only kid with enough points for advancement was Elliot, but I was surprised to see how many points my fellow classmates had managed to accumulate while I avoided the tests like the plague. It looked like there were only five cadets signed up for tomorrow, which meant there was an odd man out. In this case, Elliot. My mom had made a note about asking a fourth-year cadet to participate for extra credit, and I wondered if that was why she’d bugged me about it. All I knew was that whoever she found to compete against him had better be good, because while that Cocoon had been vague about almost everything else, it had been crystal clear about the fact that Elliot Mason couldn’t win tomorrow. And then it clicked. There was one way I could guarantee he’d lose.

Suddenly, despite my flat-out refusal to my mom earlier that night, I was all in. The stakes had changed, and feeling dumb in front of my peers was a price I was willing to pay. I bounded out of the chair and headed for the door, a plan already forming in my head. I needed to change and wake up Mom. It was time I started living up to all that potential she was always talking about.

Hours later, I stood in the freezing cold simulation room, waiting as my mom prepped the Lincoln assassination simulation, again. If I passed this, she’d let me take the test at eight. If I didn’t, then I could watch from the audience as Elliot leveled up. I hadn’t played my cards right when I’d busted into her room to tell her that I’d do the simulation test. I’d been too eager, and she’d eyed me suspiciously as I rambled on about deciding to live to my full potential. I honestly had thought she’d be so excited that I actually wanted to do a sim test that she’d jump on board immediately. Instead she’d decided to take my change of heart as an opportunity to get me past what she called my “Lincoln Block.” If I wanted this, I was going to have to prove it and beat the Lincoln assassination once and for all.

I didn’t have much time to dwell on my mistake, though, not if I wanted to compete. The first simulation slot opened at seven, and my mom had pulled strings to get me in at the last minute. Professor Treebaun walked in a moment later, looking decidedly grumpier than usual at being called in so early to monitor a test he’d watched me fail less than twenty-four hours ago. But he just nodded to Mom and took another sip of coffee as he sat down behind the monitor.