One (One Universe)

Fisk waves a hand in the air, as though he’s never heard about what a disappointment Ones are or how they never get picked for a Hub internship, certainly not one as important as Biotech. Like he’s hardly ever thought about it. Like everyone doesn’t know.
    “Yes, I know. And there is a place for everyone, I believe, Miss Grey. Especially if what Mr. Hoffman tells me about your intelligence and drive is true.”
    Drive? At least the intelligence part is right. My grades are nearly perfect, even though I’m not really trying. I know I’m crazy smart, probably smarter than a lot of the kids who made it into the Hub internship.
    I must have been quiet too long because President Fisk speaks up again. “Can you really tell me you’d have nothing to contribute to the Hub?”
    “Well, sir, uh, President Fisk, I do. I think I would.” I clear my throat and use the most mature voice I can muster. “Biotech is a fascination of mine. And I’m working at a graduate school level in organic chem.”
    “A young girl this enthusiastic about biotech when her peers are only worried about boys and shopping? And a Grey girl at that? Andrew,” he says, turning to Elias’s dad, “make sure she gets in.”
    Mr. VanDyne’s eyes flash down at me, and he stammers for a second before he nods his assent. And then, as quickly as they got to us, they disappear into the crowd again.
     
    After that, I basically float on a cloud for the rest of the afternoon. It’s all I can do to keep from smiling and fidgeting as Leni and I get ready for the dinner in one of the fancily furnished ladies’ rooms.
    I don’t own a single formal dress and shopping before the Symposium was the last thing I wanted to do. Thank God for Leni who volunteered to bring a few things for me to try on.
    “A few things” is more like a dozen gowns. I rifle through them, ignoring anything floor length — I’d need six-inch heels just to avoid stepping on the hem — or strapless — no boobs to hold it up.
    Then I see it. “Len,” I gasp.
    “Oh, I forgot about that one! Mom got that on clearance, post-prom last year.” She waves her hand in the air toward the pale blue dress. “Too fluffy, too tight, way too short. Made me look like a freaking lollipop. Too cheap to bother taking back though.”
    I stick my arms up the skirt through what is, admittedly, a lot of fluff. I shimmy it down over my head, and the skirt comes all the way down to my knee. Leni zips me up, and I look in the mirror.
    It’s strapless, and the bodice hugs tight to my torso, hitting just at my waist. The fabric is a little shimmery but not shiny. The most incredible thing is what Leni hated about it — the ruffles. An airy, finely netted fabric peeks out in a row all around the top, covering whatever cleavage I might have had, and the same stuff lies in layers under the skirt, puffing it out and making it sway if I take a few steps.
    I look like I’m in the middle of a cloud. Elias will love it.
    I smile so wide I think my face will break.
    “Well, hell.” Leni gives a low wolf whistle at the sight of me in it. “Obviously, it’s yours.”
    “Yeah. Obviously,” I murmur, doing a quarter turn in front of the mirror. A minute ago, I was a plain, slight stick figure. Now I’m curvy and luminous. The blue of the dress makes my hair look richly colored, almost with golden highlights, and there’s a bit of pink in my cheeks that I didn’t notice before.
    I launch myself at her, throw my arms around her neck, and whisper, “Thank you.”
    “Okay,” she laughs, “but now you owe me. Blow-by-blow account of the entire dinner. Including,” she wiggles her eyebrows, “after.” I know Leni’s been dreaming pretty much nonstop about spending the evening with Daniel, but it doesn’t mean she’s not going to be nosy about Elias and me on the side.
    Mom’s waiting for me outside my dressing room. She wears a burnished bronze ballgown with a strapless bodice, covered by a velvet short jacket and topped off with a string of pearls. Seeing her in that, you can’t help but think of her Super — this is what a flame-thrower would wear. I wonder if every woman in the room is as in love with her Super as I am with my One and dressed to symbolize it, like I did.
    Dad meets us near the entrance to the ballroom and extends both his arms. Mom and I each take one.
    “Two beautiful girls on my arms tonight,” Dad says, stepping through the doors.
    Mom cranes her neck forward to