“Ryan,” Nishi said. “I didn’t think you’d be making the introductory rounds.”

“Oh, I always enjoy mingling with the little people.” Ryan turned and gave Lucy a playful smirk. “No offense.”

Cement glued Lucy in place, but she took an imaginary pickax to her jaw. “Oh, oh, course not. I mean, it’s no one’s fault but my own that I’m only a 4, but I expect to be Thumping, or even Throbbing really soon.”

Ryan laughed. “I meant the joke—a pretty lame one considering . . .” He gestured to their height difference.

“Of course.” Lucy forced a smile, inwardly kicking herself for blurting out her low Pulse ranking to Ryan Thompson.

He stepped forward and offered her his hand. “And you are . . .”

“Lucy.” That she omitted her last name had as much to do with Nishi’s reaction to her being a Katz as it did with her inability to formulate a full sentence.

Ryan hummed the Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” just like a lot of older people did upon meeting her, but somehow, this time Lucy didn’t mind so much. “Let me guess . . . Cupertino . . . no . . . Palo Alto High.”

“Go Vikings!” Oh God. “I mean, yes, 4.8 GPA, and I interned at Dropbox as a sophomore, and I’m about to start training for my third marathon, and—”

“And you’re only Thudding? Clearly, we at Pulse have a glitch.”

His mischievous grin sent Lucy’s heart to a solid Level 8—Pounding. Would it be inappropriate to ask him for a selfie? She was about to reach for her phone when Nishi interrupted.

“Well, Lucy, we’ll leave you to unpack.”

“Aw, so soon?” Ryan said. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“We’ve got five weeks, don’t we?” Nishi said.

“That many?” Ryan said, and Lucy wasn’t sure if he was joking or actually surprised. “Well, I’m game if you are, Lucy.”

She was about to respond with an emphatic “yes” when the sound of someone clearing their throat made everyone turn to the door. A tall Asian American girl with straight black hair, dark eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose dropped her duffel bag to the floor.

“Hey,” she said, kicking off her black slip-on sneakers and pulling her silver-rimmed aviators off the top of her head. “I’m Maddie.”

FIVE

WYSIWYG • What you see is what you get

“UH-HUH,” MADDIE SAID FOR the fifth or sixth time. She’d lost count. Some people’s online personas differed wildly from who they were in real life.

Not this one.

Maddie was getting dizzy watching Lucy unpack. She buzzed around the room, spreading moisturizers and serums and tonics Maddie wasn’t sure were for slathering or drinking out on the desk in size order. Then she began stacking her clothes by color on the top bunk on one side of the room.