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on the outside. That’s why it’s going to hurt. It’s the ultimate rejection.”
    I glanced doubtfully at the two of them while I spread cream cheese on my everything
     bagel. Burnham, I noticed, was chewing the end of a straw.
    “But they’ve only been watching us for ten days in this totally bizarre, surreal place,”
     Henrik went on. “This isn’t who we really are.”
    “No? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been spilling my guts out on the dance floor,”
     Paige said. “This is who I am. This is everything I am.”
    “Are you saying a bunch of strangers knows you better than your own family?” Henrik
     asked.
    “I’m just saying they’re picking their feeds based on what they see, and this is who
     I really am,” Paige said. “Whether I make the cuts depends on if they want me or not.
     It’s that simple. Why can’t you accept a true meritocracy?”
    Henrik leaned over his coffee cups with a red swizzle stick. “If it’s that simple,
     everyone who’s rejected tonight will go home and slit their wrists.”
    “Holy crap,” Janice said.
    Paige smacked her hand on the table. “You have to put everything of yourself out there,”
     she said. “That’s the point. That’s art. You can’t hold back.”
    “Oh, please,” Henrik said. “Art is not all guts on the dance floor. Can you imagine
     the mess?”
    I let out a laugh.
    Paige glared at me. “What?” she demanded.
    “It’s just, guts would be sort of slippery,” I said.
    Paige leaned back, crossing her arms, and stared at Burnham as if to ask him, who is this moron?
    Burnham smiled around his straw.
    “Fine,” Paige said. “Laugh.”
    “Come on,” Henrik said, starting on another cup of coffee.
    “No, you have to admit Paige has a point,” Burnham said, taking out the straw. “It’s
     hard not to feel like our entire worth is wrapped up in our blip ranks. But Henrik’s
     right, too. If we exist only for our ranks, we’ll cease to exist once we leave. That
     can’t be right, Paige. There has to be something more.”
    “Why? Art is already more. That’s what we’re being judged on,” Paige said.
    “Your art and your blip rank are connected, but they’re not the same thing,” I said.
     “If you say your rank is all that matters, Paige, then you’re saying people with low
     ranks or no ranks, like people working in the kitchen, have no worth at all.”
    “That’s not what she’s saying,” Henrik said.
    “No, that is what I’m saying,” Paige said. She stirred her yogurt. “Why be afraid to admit it?
     We’re on the show because we’re better than them. We’re more creative and interesting.
     And if we make the cuts, that says we’re worth more than the students who get cut.
     We’re intrinsically more valuable people.”
    I sat back with my lemonade and stared at her. Paige was crazy mean, but I sort of
     admired her elitist guts, the ones she put on the dance floor. I also hoped she’d
     get cut.
    “You probably think the hyper-rich are intrinsically more valuable, too, just because
     they’re rich,” Henrik said.
    Paige opened her hand. “Survival of the fittest. They’ve figured out how to rule the
     world. Ask Burnham.”
    I choked on my drink.
    “Can I strangle Paige?” Henrik said.
    Burnham’s dark cheeks had taken on a deeper hue, and he looked stiff. “Be my guest,”
     he said lightly.
    Henrik threw an arm around Paige’s neck and wrestled her into a headlock. She did
     something to him under the table that made him let go. “Hey!” he said.
    “All’s fair,” Paige said.
    “Which is this? Love or war?” Henrik said.
    “Take your pick,” Paige said, and took up her sandwich.
    From across the dining hall, the big blip rank board fluttered with another update,
     and I was surprised that none of my companions glanced over at it. I couldn’t resist.
     I was at 83. Janice, Burnham, Henrik, and Paige were all in the top twenty-five. I
     caught Burnham watching me, and focused again