My brother wasn’t one who didn’t pay attention. I knew his secret ambition was to be as smart as I was. Many of his friends who knew about me anticipated that one day he would blossom into another me. When he first told me that, I told him I wished it would never happen. I could see he thought I wished that because I didn’t want anyone else to be as important as I was or something. I did my best to assure him that wasn’t the reason.
“Be yourself,” I told him. “Don’t try to be anyone else, or you’ll never be happy, especially if you become me.”
“Aren’t you happy?” he had asked me only last year.
“I’m in the world between happy and unhappy,” I said, which only confused him.
“That’s only because you’re a wizard,” he said. “Wizards have no time to think about being happy. They have too much to do. Wizards control everything,” he continued, and then went on to explain some video game of his that he really seemed to believe was true. I didn’t discourage him. I envied him for his imagination, an imagination that didn’t rely on facts. His was pure make-believe.
People were happier when they could make believe, I thought. They could find ways to avoid ugliness and failure, even if it was only for a short while. At least, it served as an oasis in a world where so much disaster and tragedy reigned, especially now with climate change. If you couldn’t dip into make-believe, you could never really enjoy a good novel, play, or movie. Worst of all, you couldn’t have a close relationship with anyone, because you could not ignore his or her weaknesses. Maybe you could never fall in love, perhaps, as in my case, because you couldn’t prove it scientifically.
Now Mickey looked up from his math homework. I sat on his bed, and he turned around in his desk chair.
“I’m going to go to a different school.”
“Where?”
“It’s in Piñon Pine Grove.”
“Don’t tell me,” he said. I smiled as he turned around and quickly located it on his Google Maps app. “One hour and forty-eight minutes with current traffic. That’s still a long time to travel in the morning. You’ll have to get up very early.”
“I’m going to live there in a dorm.”
His brow crinkled. “Like college?”
“Yes, but it won’t be exactly like college.”
“Are you coming home on weekends?”
“Probably only occasionally.”
He thought a moment. “We can Skype and stuff?”
“Always,” I said.
He thought again. One way in which Mickey was like me. He pondered. “Is this because of what happened on the beach?”
“That was the catalyst, yes.”
“Catalyst. Don’t tell me.” He spun around again and checked on his computer. “I get it,” he said.
“This is the school,” I told him, and showed him the brochure.
“Can I go there someday?”
“Probably not.”
He nodded. “It’s only for wizards, huh?”
“Only wizards.”
“You want to go there? I mean, it looks great.”
“Yes.”
“What about Mom and Dad?”
“They want me to go, but I need you to do something after I leave.”
“What?” His imagination was running wild with the possibilities.
“I want you to spend more time with them, Mickey. Don’t lock yourself in your room with your games so much. Talk to them more. Before you know it, you’ll be off to college, and they’ll be alone, and you’ll be sorry you didn’t spend more time with them.”
“Are you?”
“Very much. Will you promise?”
“Sure,” he said. “Dad and I watch television together sometimes.”
“Don’t forget Mom.”
He studied me a moment. “You’re pretty sad.”
“I’m a little lost,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry. I’m off to find myself.”
He shook his head. “Wizard talk.”
“Exactly.” I rose and stood there for a moment. Then I leaned down and hugged him. The surprise on his face wasn’t something I’d forget soon.
“That was a wizard hug,” he called as I started out. “You gave me some of your powers.”
I turned to him with a smile perhaps brighter than I’d ever given him before. “I hope so,” I said.
• • •
I didn’t fall asleep for a long time, but when I did, I slept late. I wasn’t going to school anyway, so I still took my time dressing and fixing my hair. I put on lipstick, too. My mother was waiting for me in the kitchen, hovering over a second or third cup of coffee. I knew she had been agonizing over the decision to send me to Spindrift. To help her along, I acted happier than I had in days.
Actually, I didn’t have to act. The prospect of starting something new and as challenging as this seemed to give me new energy.
After I ate something, she and I left to go to the hospital.
“Daddy found out that Greg was in his own room, postop.”
She paused and then told me Mateo had been arrested and charged with assault. The district attorney had moved to have him tried as an adult. None of that seemed to matter anymore. The only thing that might was his suffering remorse.
Once we checked in and found exactly where Greg was, my mother sat in the lobby and opened a novel to read.
I had to go to the third floor. When I arrived at his room, he was lying against the raised portion of his bed. Half his head was bandaged, and his good eye was closed. I saw that his breakfast tray had not yet been picked up. From the looks of it, he had eaten little.
The sound of my pulling a chair closer to the bed woke him.
“I’m not going to ask you how you are,” I said when I sat.
He smiled, but it looked like it was a little painful to do so. “How are you?”
“Frightened, angry, sad, when I’m not numb.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“Bringing you into all that.”
“Most of it was fun, even the dumb soccer game. And I won’t forget our walk on the beach.”
“We’ll do it again, maybe.”
“Maybe. Yes,” I said.
“Why did you say maybe first?”
“We won’t have as much opportunity—”
“Because of my eye. I’ll be all right. I’ll wear a pirate patch and maybe someday get a new eye. That’s not such a dream. My doctor told me about things being done for eyes in my condition.”
“I believe that. I did some reading on it and will do more,” I said. “But that’s not the reason.”
“So?”
“I’m going to attend a different school, Greg. It’s a school for wizards like me,” I said, thinking of Mickey.
“What?”
“It’s in Piñon Pine Grove, a special school for students cursed with too much intelligence.”
“You’re far from cursed, Donna.”
“We’ll see.”
“So . . . Piñon Pine Grove. That’s in the Coachella Valley.”
“A world away, really. I’ll let you know how it works. All I know is it’s so special it’s fenced in and guarded.”
“You’re kidding. Like a prison?”
“Maybe. I don’t know yet.”
He shook his head slightly. “You’ll meet some male genius and forget me.”
“Maybe.”
“What?”
I laughed. “No, I won’t. I mean, I’m sure I’ll meet some male wizard, but forgetting you is not an option. Maybe you’ll forget about me. I know those girls in our school. They’ll think you’re some kind of movie star now and woo you.”
“Woo?”
“Try to get you
to fall in love with them.”
“I’m not falling in love with anyone . . . else,” he said. “And don’t start quoting statistics about teenage romances or something.”
“Okay,” I said. It was in the back of my mind, but I smothered it.
He looked sad.
I reached for his hand and played with his fingers. “I never kissed anyone the way I kissed you. Nothing I know, no facts, nothing matters more than that. You get back on your feet, and as soon as I can, I’ll arrange for you to visit, or I’ll let you know when I’m coming home. I promise it won’t be long.”
“You once told me promises are houses built on foundations of fog.”
“I didn’t know I’d ever make a promise. There’s no fog.” I smiled, feeling more optimistic than I’d imagined I could at this moment.
He tightened his grip on my hand, and I rose from the chair and kissed him.
The nurse’s aide entered to get his tray. “He didn’t eat much,” she said.
“He will now. Won’t you, Greg?”
“Yes,” he said.
She smiled and left us. I sat with him for another half hour, holding his hand. His nurse came by to give him more pain medication and told me he was probably going to fall asleep.
After she left, I stood. “My mother’s downstairs,” I said. “She’s probably read the same page in her book for a half hour.”
“When do you go to the new school?”
“Tomorrow, if not later today.”
“That fast?”
“It’s like a train. I have to catch a ride.”
“Huh?”
“My life feels like it just sped up, but don’t worry about me. Just get stronger. We’ll talk soon and make a plan for when you’re up and about again.”
“Not a fog promise?”
“No. It has a one hundred percent guarantee.” I kissed him again.
“You know,” he said as I started out. I stopped. “This eye doesn’t work, but it will always see you. I have no factual proof. Do you believe it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I believe it with my heart. My brain is jealous. It’s never been outsmarted.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” I said, and left.
• • •
My mother didn’t ask me anything about my visit except how Greg was doing. I think she saw how close I was to bursting into tears. She was my mother, I thought. She should sense what was inside me, and more often than not, she did. I’d miss that.
I wasn’t going to leave her with anything dark and depressing. She worried too much about me. I told her Greg was healing and he was optimistic. That pleased her. She could sense the hope in my voice. I even think I was smiling.
It wasn’t quite noon.
“I’d like to leave this afternoon,” I said.
“What? Why rush?”
“If I didn’t, I might change my mind. Let’s get Daddy to do what he has to do. You said they don’t have semesters and it was quite unorthodox. Let’s see if it is.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll call him.”
“No. I’ll call him,” I said.
And I did. Then I packed what I wanted after my father called back to tell me they advised that I not bring all that much. Most everything was quite informal, and whatever else I needed could be brought by them later, or the school would help me acquire it. He made arrangements to leave early from work.
My father always spoke with great strength and assurance. He was used to directing people in how to take their medicines and firm about what they should avoid. But now I could hear the nervousness and a little uncertainty in his voice.
The one thing I agreed to wait for, of course, was for Mickey to get home from school so he could go with us. He was more excited than I was.
My parents were quite silent for most of the trip, both wondering if they had moved into this too quickly, I was sure.
All of us were surprised and impressed at the sight of the security booth as we approached the school. My father told the guard our name but then had to show him his license so he could copy down the number. He then handed my father a key card.
“This is coded. Just insert it in the front door. Give the card to Dr. Marlowe.”
“Who’s Dr. Marlowe?” Mickey asked. “Is this a hospital, too?”
“No. She’s in charge of the school, like a principal or superintendent. She has a doctorate, so she’s called Dr. Marlowe,” my father explained.
We pulled into the parking lot, and my father carried my small suitcase for me as we approached the front door of what was a Queen Anne with some additions on both sides and, I imagined, in the rear as well. The key card unlocked the door, and we entered a lobby with very modern decor, cocoa-colored tile floors, rich walnut wood walls, and leather chairs and sofas. An elegant-looking woman with graying dark brown hair approached us quickly. I thought she looked about fifty. She wore a pair of well-worn jeans, a blue blouse, and sandals.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ramanez, welcome. I’m Dr. Jessie Marlowe,” she said, extending her hand to my parents. She smiled at me. “And a special welcome to you, Donna.”
I shook her hand.
She looked at Mickey. “Hi. You’re Mickey, right?”
“Yes,” Mickey said, impressed. So was I.
“Let’s get Donna right to her room first, and then I’ll take you all on a tour of our facilities. How’s that?”
“Very good,” my father said. “Thank you. When do I—”
“We’ll handle all the details later. This way,” she said.
We walked up a stairway with a mahogany banister. Then she turned right and led us through one hallway to another. We stopped at a room on the right. The room was a bit of a shock, especially to my mother. It was Spartan. There was a double bed with a small side table, a dresser, a desk, and a mirror on the closet door. The closet was half the size of mine at home. Now I saw why they said not to bring much.
“Sorry I’m late,” we heard, and turned to see an African-American girl with a slim figure and hair cut very short. She had beautiful almond-shaped eyes.
“Ah. This is Corliss Simon, Donna. She’s volunteered to be your big sister during your orientation and was supposed to greet you with me.”
“Big sister is a stupid term,” she said sharply, not liking the subtle reprimand.
“Well, come up with something better. It’s the term they used when I first entered college,” Dr. Marlowe said.
“We’re a long way from then,” Corliss said.
I smiled. She was relentless, just like I could be.
“You want me to wait until you unpack or what?” she asked.
I glanced at my mother, whose eyes looked explosive. Then I laughed. “No. Let’s do the ‘or what,’ ” I said.
Corliss smiled.
“I’ll show your family around,” Dr. Marlowe said. “Corliss will take you on her personal tour, I’m sure.”
“Is she a wizard, too?” Mickey asked.
“You’ll have to wait for your sister to decide and tell you,” Dr. Marlowe replied. “C’mon. I’ll show you some great things,” she added, and took his hand.
My parents looked at me. I nodded, and they started out. Then I stepped out to join Corliss.
“Welcome to your new life,” she said.
“Thanks. What brought you here?” I asked.
“Survival. You?”
“Survival,” I said.
She laughed. “You’re in the right place.”
“My brother thought it was a hospital.”
“Out of the mouths of babes,” she said.
I liked her instantly. We headed down the corridor in an opposite direction.
And for the first time in my life, I welcomed the mystery.
Welcome to Spindrift, the excl
usive academy for genius girls.
Corliss may be the smartest girl in school, but that doesn't mean she knows how to fit in.
Corliss
* * *
Mastering high school is much easier than mastering her heart . . .
Bittersweet Dreams
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More great reads from V.C. Andrews!
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ABOUT
V.C. ANDREWS®
One of the most popular authors of all time, V.C. Andrews has been a bestselling phenomenon since the publication of Flowers in the Attic, first in the renowned Dollanganger family series, which includes Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and Garden of Shadows. The family saga continues with Christopher’s Diary: Secrets of Foxworth, Christopher’s Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger, and Secret Brother. V.C. Andrews has written more than seventy novels, which have sold over 106 million copies worldwide and have been translated into twenty-five foreign languages. Join the conversation about the world of V.C. Andrews at Facebook.com/OfficialVCAndrews.
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V.C. ANDREWS® BOOKS
THE DOLLANGANGER FAMILY
Flowers in the Attic
Petals on the Wind
If There Be Thorns
Seeds of Yesterday
Garden of Shadows
Christopher’s Diary: Secrets of Foxworth
Christopher’s Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger
Secret Brother
THE AUDRINA SERIES
My Sweet Audrina
Whitefern
THE CASTEEL FAMILY
Donna Page 5