THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

minded that Tony dragged his feet to leave the classroom since it meant everyone else had already been here, chosen the parts they wanted, and left. Now it was only the two of us. Not ideal, but easier to escape one than a roomful.
    This Top Ten Project had something to do with taking an old computer and rebuilding it into an AI or Artificial Intelligence unit.  I did understand those terms, had heard of a computer and an AI somewhere, but I knew as much about turning a computer into an AI as I did about flying to Mars.
    At least, I didn’t think I could build an AI unit or fly to any of the other planets in the solar system. Though I did know the planets, and knowledge of space travel tapped at the edge of my mind. 
    Not that I expected anyone to keep me in this program, but until I met with Dr. Maxwell at five o’clock I might as well pick my way through this clutter to see if I could find something to use. The green book had made multiple references to accessing information on the computer, so apparently computers were used to store a lot of documentation and records.
    If one of these worked, I wanted to see if I could use it to find out something about myself.
    Tony shoved a monitor dusty with age out of his way, grumbling, “I should be with four-point-oh Sanderson, not some mute who doesn’t even understand English.”
    I swallowed my smile. Tony would think I was unable to speak since I’d refused to answer any of his obnoxious questions like what tribe had I come from. How many scalps I’d traded to get into this place? Did I have a clue how lucky I was that they let the terminally clueless into the Institute?
    Did I even know where Jersey was?
    No.
    I’d shrugged in answer that time, amused when Tony went off on a rant over how he wished he were back in Jersey if this was as good as it got here.
    He pitched a thing he’d called a mouse into a box of miscellaneous parts and turned on me. “You’re not screwing up my chance at MIT.”
    That term again. MIT what?
    Crossing my arms, I faced him, more curious than anything to see what this blowhard would do next. He might have two inches on me since I was maybe five and a half feet tall, but he was the one terminally clueless if he thought his loud mouth intimidated me.
    Just then the door over in the corner opened and a girl backed into the room, humming a strange, but interesting, tune as she dragged a cart with cleaning products, a broom and dust mop.
    But there was no mistaking all that bizarre color. Gabby.
    Still humming, she turned around and jerked back when she saw us, dropping her can of drink that rolled across the room, sloshing brown liquid everywhere. 
    Tony jumped sideways. “What the ‘ell? Watch whatcha doin’.”
    I gave him a dark look of warning. The poor girl had been startled. Just an accident.
    “My bad,” she said, sounding amused until she let out a weary sigh and grabbed a towel from her cart. She dropped to all fours to wipe up the mess. 
    “What’re you doin’ here anyhow, sweet cheeks?” Tony asked in his Mr. Nice Guy voice– Were all girls “sweet cheeks” to this guy? –but he looked around warily as if keeping an eye out for Mr. Suarez.
    Gabby drew an exaggerated breath, eyes staring up in serious thought when she answered, “Getting ready for the prom, but I’m still waiting for my white mice and glass slippers to arrive. Until they do, I’m relegated to two hours of cleaning up. An unfair penalty for telling the truth.” 
    Mice and glass slippers?
    Tony rolled his eyes, dismissing her with a shake of his head, muttering, “Good practice. World needs more hamburger flippers.”
    “Your ridiculous opinion has been duly noted.”  She smiled sweetly at him with eyes twinkling as if she knew her reaction bothered him.
    He turned his back on her and mumbled, “First Sacagawea. Now Cindereller.”
    Sacaga-who?
    Shrugging at his back, Gabby bumped her shoulder into the mop hooked on her cart, knocking the stick loose. She had quick reflexes, grabbing the mop handle before it whacked Tony in the head. But when she slapped her other hand down for balance, it landed on my foot and her finger grazed the skin of my bare ankle just as I thought, If I’m Sacagawea and she’s Cindereller, that must make Tony the Jersey Jerk .
    “Jersey Jerk. That’s too funn–”  Gabby sucked in a breath and shoved up on her knees, snatching her hand off my foot. For a few seconds she sat there, staring ahead, frozen.