Page 41 of Bound By Stars

“Maybe talking out the issue with ILSA’s comm system would help?”

She huffs out a breath and yanks my tablet back. “On second thought, I would love to practice the presentation.”

By the third try, it’s not getting any better. Every word is shaky and unsure. Like the very thought of public speaking has transformed her entire personality. She wipes her palm over her thigh again. “I’d like to start by thanking the board for this, um”—she glances down at my tablet in her other hand—“for, um, this opportunit—”

“That’s already two ‘um’s,’” Asha informs her in a singsong voice, continuing to snip the colorful material in her hands. On the table in front of her, the fabric moves. A little metallic bunny ear pops out from underneath.

I catch Weslie’s eye, trying to be reassuring. “You’re doing great. Keep going.”

“For this opportunity. My entry, ILSA or Individualized, um…” She glances down again.

“You don’t need to check, Weslie. You named her. Try without the tablet,” I say cautiously, but when she lifts her narrowed eyes, I can see the encouragement is just pissing her off at this point.

She lays the tablet down, lifts her eyes, and takes a breath. “Individualized Life Support Assistant.”

“Don’t stare at the ceiling,” Tar reminds her.“My parents are always getting on me about that.”

She groans and rubs her hands over her face. “This is ridiculous. I’m never going to be good at this.”

The audience is clearly not helping. I turn to my friends, but only Curran and Asha look up. I point toward the door, asking them silently to leave.

“I need to get in a run. Want to join me, Tar?” Curran slides out of his seat, tucking his computer under one arm.

Tar’s face flushes and he nods, following and leaving Asha behind, still hurriedly collecting her stuff.

“I’ll join you!” Asha adds, already following, fabric spilling out of the bag at her hip. She pauses at the door. “You’re really improving, Wes. You’ll get it down.”

“Want to try it without the crowd?” I ask as soon as we’re alone.

“Not even a little bit,” she says through her teeth.

“Okay.” I raise my hands. “Figure out why ILSA deleted your messages?”

“Oh, no. Asha left her scissors. I should take them to her.”

I step into her path. “She doesn’t really need them in the gym. Nice try, though.”

“Can we not talk about the messaging or the presentation?”

“Okay. What else is left?”

She drops onto the stool in front of her laptop. “There are some small fixes I need to iron out to clean up the code. I think I have the medical emergency awareness installed and ready, but I haven’t had the opportunity to test that.”

“Let’s check that off the list. How do we test it?”

“We have to wait for someone to be injured within her scannable perimeter. Someone that isn’t me, so Meridian and Hale will be no help.”

“I guess that makes me the lab rat.” I pick up Asha’s scissors.

“We can wait until—”

Opening the shears, I run the edge across my palm. Searing pain instantly runs up my arm.

“Fuuu…” I hold my closed fist up, curling my lips around my teeth and the string of words I want to scream. Blood drips down my arm. “That always looks so painless in movies.”

“What the hell, Jupiter!” She leaps out of her seat, frantically scanning the room. “Keep it elevated! I’ll find something to wrap—”

ILSA rushes past her. “Jupiter, you have suffered a laceration on your right hand. My scans indicate the depth of the wound requires medical closure to prevent infection and further damage. Do I have your permission to attend to your injury?”

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