The fluorescent lights of the basement computer lab buzzed with a low, irritating hum. Quinn Harper remained slumped in her chair, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with quiet, defeated sobs. The flashing green prompt on the blank monitor felt like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds to her family's ruin.
"Tears are a natural biological response to sudden, overwhelming stress, Quinn," a calm, deeply resonant voice said from directly behind her. "But they are a terrible waste of hydration when the stress is entirely manufactured by inferior competition."
Quinn gasped, her head snapping up. She spun her chair around, hastily wiping the wetness from her cheeks with the sleeves of her oversized sweater.
Standing before her was a young man she had never seen before
