Genesis Girl

by Jennifer Bardsley

  Seth’s voice dripped with disgust. “Everything always comes back to you and your weird Vestal shit.”

  “Seth!” Cal said sharply. “Please—”

  “Don’t bother.” Seth dropped his fork. “I’m done.”

  That was a few weeks ago. We haven’t seen Seth since.

  I keep watching Cal, thinking he’s going to be upset by this, but he’s not showing the hurt yet. I know being apart from Seth must be killing him. Seth was the whole reason Cal harvested me in the first place! I guess Ms. Lydia and I must be doing a pretty good job of filling the part of Cal that was so lonely for family.

  Right hook, left hook, right jab, kick. Ms. Lydia is right, like always. This workout is evil, but in a good way. Sweat drips down my forehead, and I don’t bother to wipe it away.

  “Higher, Blanca! Higher!” Ms. Lydia kicks along with me. Out here in the sunlight it’s easier to tell how old she is. She and Cal are probably the same age. Maybe Ms. Lydia’s even older.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “Let’s get out the yoga mats.”

  When we’re headfirst in Downward Dog, she starts talking about our plans for next week. “That print ad was merely the beginning, Blanca. People all over are calling up their local power company and asking for McNeal Solar by name. Calum can’t believe it!”

  I smile as I slide down to Plank. “I guess Seth leaking the photo on Veritas Rex backfired on him, huh?”

  “Let’s not talk about him. Viruses are beneath us.”

  We both slip into Cobra, and the stretch feels good.

  “Already you’ve been a game changer.” Ms. Lydia lifts her face to the sunshine. “Nobody ever thought of using a Vestal to advertise for energy before. Things are going to get bigger from now on. The commercial next week will take your image to a whole new level.”

  Ms. Lydia’s probably right, like always. But the opportunity is fertile for humiliation.

  “What if Trevor and I don’t have any chemistry on camera?” I ask.

  “Fake it.” Ms. Lydia walks her feet up to the top of her yoga mat. She pauses for a minute and looks at me. “Lots of Vestals have their first public date on camera. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  But I’m still pretty nervous. I’m not shooting one commercial next week, I’m shooting two. One for McNeal Solar with Trevor popping in at the end. The other will be Trevor’s soap commercial with me in the final shot. Ms. Lydia has been arranging the deal for weeks.

  By the next Vestal banquet, Trevor and I will be an established item.

  There’s a knock from above. Cal leans out my window over the ladder, trying to get our attention. “Lydia,” he says, waving a white envelope and looking downcast. “You have a letter.”

  Ms. Lydia told Cal a while ago about her being the elected agent for Vestals, so Cal knows that Ms. Lydia has a busy job brokering the deals for Vestal photo shoots. But that doesn’t stop the disappointment, for any of us, every time Ms. Lydia has to leave.

  Ms. Lydia takes a deep breath and then rolls up her mat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “For how long this time?” I ask. “What about the commercial shoot? Will you still be there?”

  Ms. Lydia shrugs. “Maybe.” She stares at the stone wall like she sees right through it.

  “Ms. Lydia,” I ask, my voice low and respectful. “Do you want—”

  But she interrupts me midsentence. “It doesn’t matter what I want.” She chucks her yoga mat into the redwood storage box. “I learned that a long time ago.”

  “Blanca,” Cal says that night over dinner, “I’ve got something to show you.” Since Ms. Lydia is away, we sneak dinner rolls with our halibut.

  Cal types on his watch, and a website pulls up, floating over the bowl of broccoli.

  The Lighthouse, it says. Exposing the truth about Vestals one beacon of light at a time. Underneath is a supposed exposé on the Vestal blessing. Only instead of golden cuffs, they’re demonstrating it with paper tubes.

  Cal stares at me, examining every aspect of my reaction. But I’m as placid as ever.

  “Why are you showing me this?” I try not to sound suspicious.

  “Because I wondered if it might be what Lydia’s been dealing with lately.” Cal types something on his wrist and pulls another picture up. “And also because they’ve been blogging about you.”

  There’s my print ad for McNeal Solar, but instead of the correct headline, it now says what the f--- do vestals know about energy?

  I feel horrible because it’s the truth.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask. “Do you want me to cancel the commercial?”

  “No, of course not.” Cal observes me closely. “Should I leave this up? Do you want to read some more?”

  “No!” I say a little too loudly. “I mean, no thank you.” But before Cal taps on his watch to shut things down, I catch a glimpse of one more word: nevada. My mind goes back to my Harvest, when Headmaster Russell told the audience that I was born there.

  “I have to say it,” says Cal. “This website has a point. If you’re going to represent McNeal Solar, you should at least know a little bit about how solar energy works.”

  I nod, despite the fact I have no idea where this is going. I’m still lost in Nevada.

  “Good, I’m glad you agree,” Cal says. “I’m going to instruct you in thermal engineering.”

  “Thermal what?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll start with physics first.”

  I have no idea what to say.

  “One more thing,” says Cal, as the server brings out the contraband dessert. “Let’s not mention any of this to Lydia.”

  My new education begins that night. Positive charges, negative charges, electrons running around circuits like little green men; my mind is already swimming. The books stacked on my desk are a tower of evil. None of this was covered in the Tabula Rasa curriculum. Headmaster Russell said the liberal arts were all we needed.

  As it turns out, science is fascinating. Each lesson opens my mind to broader horizons. But I hope Ms. Lydia doesn’t find out about my new study plan. Or even worse, that I like it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m practically naked underneath the fluffy white bathrobe. I’m hardly wearing any makeup, only a bit of lip-gloss. The coffee cup in my hand is warm and steaming. Everyone watches as I bring it to my lips.

  “From my first cup of coffee,” I say.

  Then flash forward to me at the gym, whacking a punching bag with my signature roundhouse kick. I’m wearing skintight white pants and a sports bra.

  “To my trip to the gym,” I say.

  Now it’s a boudoir shot. I’m leaning into a mirror and applying lipstick, wearing a white, strapless sundress.

  “To preparing for a night out,” I say.

  Then it’s me standing at a front door, holding a gigantic bouquet of red roses. Trevor leans against the doorjamb, with one arm around my waist.

  “I rely on McNeal Solar Energy to heat things up,” I say. “McNeal Solar makes all things possible.” Then Trevor pulls me into the deepest, most perfect kiss ever.

  Perfectly banal, that is.

  On screen it looks absolutely beautiful. But in real life, it’s just wet.

  It’s also awful because there are about thirty Vestal Rejects all around us filming the whole thing. I’m glad that there aren’t random photographers taking my picture. But Rejects are creepy, especially the ones with tattoos. Headmaster Russell had solid reasons for expelling each and every one of them from Tabula Rasa.

  That’s probably why Lilith won’t talk to the Rejects.

  Trevor keeps looking at Lilith and tugging on his collar when he’s supposed to be looking at me! The whole thing is weird. Why is his mom watching?

  At least Ms. Lydia is pleased with how things turned out. “Beautiful, Blanca,” she gushes. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  Of course I love hearing that from Ms. L
ydia, but when the camera crew tries to chat with me, I stiffen up because I have no idea what to say.

  The Rejects watch as the director pulls me aside to thank me personally. I recognize Jeremy as a Vestal dropout from six or seven years ago. He’s one of the few students who left Tabula Rasa of his own accord. Now he’s got piercings in his nose and tattoos on his neck. Jeremy directs all the Vestal commercials.

  “You’ve helped a lot of people,” Jeremy tells me. “That harvest price of yours is employing loads of workers. We’re grateful.”

  I’m helping the Rejects? I had no idea! I thought it was the other way around. Ms. Lydia is a genius for organizing it this way.

  Then there’s Trevor’s soap commercial. The camera crew got everything ready.

  All I have to do is look pretty. I run down some steps from a fake apartment building, swing my leg behind Trevor on his white motorcycle, and then we drive off into the sunset.

  Easy, right?

  The problem is, Trevor can’t figure out how to operate a motorcycle even if his life depended on it. After five hours of expert instruction, he still gets the left-hand clutch mixed up with the right-hand accelerator. He never remembers about starting the engine in neutral and has no idea how to upshift.

  The Vestal Reject who’s trying to teach him is about ready to scream.

  “Look, Trevor,” I finally say. I try not to compare him to Seth, but it’s hard. “Riding a motorcycle isn’t that difficult.” I grab my helmet, climb on, and take the bike for a spin around the sound stage all by myself before anyone can stop me.

  “Blanca!” Jeremy shouts, but I don’t find that out until later. I can’t hear anything underneath my helmet.

  When I turn off the engine and park, everyone stares at me.

  Lilith is ready to spit nails, but Trevor looks amazed, like he didn’t know I could do something like that.

  Leave it to Ms. Lydia to fix things. “Let’s change course,” Ms. Lydia tells Jeremy. “You can’t see anything under those helmets anyway. Let’s have Trevor lean on the bike, and Blanca run down to kiss him.”

  So that’s what we do. The commercial becomes Trevor getting cleaned up in the shower, and then me running down to meet him. Trevor’s leans next to the motorcycle he’s too clueless to ride.

  Then comes our date.

  The sound stage is set up to look like a restaurant. Trevor and I sit at a table with a red-checkered cloth and a candle stuck in an old wine bottle. There are enormous plates of spaghetti in front of us and a basket of garlic bread.

  “Don’t really eat that!” Ms. Lydia cautions, even though she knows I know better.

  “Act natural,” Jeremy adds. “Forget the cameras are here.”

  But it’s hard to forget. Especially with Lilith glowering at us across the room, her face smoother than ever. Something about the corners of her eyes makes her look different than she did so many years ago in the Citrus Sunshine commercial. They must be loading Lilith up with anti-wrinkle cream. It’s ironing out her face to perfection.

  “So,” says Trevor. “Our first real date.”

  “Yes,” I say. “This is awesome.”

  I’m such a liar. This is awful! What are we supposed to talk about? Maybe I could say, “Hey, Trevor, did you know what a bad kisser you are?” Let’s get that conversation on camera.

  Jeremy gestures for us to do something, so Trevor grabs my hand. His own is slimy with sweat.

  But he whispers something honest, something that makes me like him all over again. “This is awkward,” he says. “I’m not normally such a turd.”

  “You’re not?” I giggle. There’re multiple flashes as the cameras catch my response.

  “If there weren’t all these people …”

  “Exactly,” I whisper. “And your Vestal-mom over there, looking pissed.”

  Trevor’s face darkens at that. I must have said something wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No. That’s okay. Things are … complicated.”

  “‘Vestal families are always complicated.’” I quote Barbelo Nemo.

  “Yes,” agrees Trevor. “‘But we have everything we need to achieve happiness.’”

  “Exactly.” Then I look over at Lilith again and do a double-take. She reminds me of somebody I know, and not only from the Citrus Sunshine ad. But before I can ask Trevor about it, he leans in to kiss me.

  “Bingo,” says Jeremy. “That’s a wrap.”

  My videos are everywhere. On the drive to Cal’s office today, we see an enormous glowing billboard of me holding the roses and Trevor leaning in to kiss me. I’m finally up there with all my friends! I’m a real Vestal now, and it’s all thanks to Ms. Lydia convincing Cal on my behalf.

  Cal slides the privacy divider so Alan can’t hear our conversation, and then leans back into the plush upholstery of the limo. “Thanks for coming with me today. I didn’t want to leave you at home to fend for yourself with all the remodeling going on.”

  He means the workmen crawling over the house, lining Cal’s room with lead. Ms. Lydia has taken off for the week on business. But she’ll be moving in when the work is complete. She also promised to be here in time for the next Vestal banquet.

  “Ms. Lydia says your office is lovely,” I say.

  “It is,” Cal says. “Sophia decorated it. Then I had it lined with lead a month ago, once I … started seeing Lydia.”

  I’d cover my ears and start singing if I could forget hearing that last part. I don’t want to spend any time at all wondering what Cal and Ms. Lydia do behind closed doors. But I understand Ms. Lydia wanting to take every precaution to ensure her privacy and not be accidentally uploaded to the net.

  “I only wish that Seth wasn’t being so difficult.” Cal peers down at his chip-watch. “He hasn’t messaged me in a couple of weeks.”

  “Maybe he needs some time.”

  “Maybe,” Cal says. “I wish that he could understand that I’m really happy. For the first time in a long time, I’m really happy. And I want him to be a part of it. But every time I try to talk to Seth, we start fighting about his apartment or college or Lydia.”

  “I’m sorry

  “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Yes, Cal. Of—I mean yes.”

  “This isn’t an order; it’s a request. Would you go to Seth’s apartment and give him a message for me? Alan could drive you.”

  “A message?”

  “Yes. Make Seth listen. Make him understand that I’m in a good place right now, but that I miss him.”

  I look down at my engineering books. They’re weighing me down but are fascinating. I was hoping to read more of them today.

  “What about my studies?” I ask. Clarifying questions are my friends. Cal told me to learn about science too.

  “I don’t want to interfere with that,” Cal says. “You’ve got a real head for engineering. I had no idea you’d learn all of this so quickly.”

  It’s true. I’ve been dreaming of solar circuits.

  “In fact, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Blanca. Have you ever thought about going to college?”

  “What? How would I do that?”

  “You could become an engineer for real, or anything else for that matter. You could make friends, you could—”

  “Are you telling me to?”

  “No,” answers Cal quietly. “I’m only asking you if you’ve thought about it.”

  “There’s no way it would be possible. Not without having to go public.” Ms. Lydia leaves for a few hours and already Cal is going nuts.

  “What about online classes? Correspondence courses?”

  “Not unless you tell me to.” I pause. “Will you?”

  “No,” Cal says. “I’m done with that. But I’m asking you, as a favor, to go to Seth’s apartment after lunch today and see if he will listen to reason. Could you? Please?”

  “Of course
,” I say. “I’ll do anything you want.”

  Cal grimaces when I say that, and then he stares out the window.

  Chapter Twelve

  I always knew Seth was a pig. Seeing his apartment proves it. There are half-eaten pizzas, boxes of donuts, and empty liters of soda everywhere. It’s like junk food came here to die.

  And don’t get me started on the connections. Seth clicks screens down right and left. Even in the bedroom, where his unmade bed is a tangle of sheets, there are video screens on every wall.

  “If I had known you were coming, I would have cleaned up a bit,” Seth says.

  If I didn’t know him better, I would think he was embarrassed. “Fair is fair, Virus. You’ve barged in on me before.”

  “I thought we agreed you’d call me Seth.” He slides some dirty socks off the couch so I can sit down.

  “Oh right. I forgot.” When I sit down on the couch, my hands go straight into a melted bowl of ice cream.

  I pretty much freak out.

  “I’ve been stained!” Rocky road drips down my arm, ruining my white shirt. I glare at Seth’s smirk.

  “Um, let me show you to the bathroom,” Seth offers. There’s an awkward moment where he holds out his hand to help me get up, and I refuse to touch him. There’s been enough touching already.

  Ten seconds in Seth’s bathroom and I already know a million more things about him than I would have liked. Most importantly, Seth doesn’t have any soap. So I come out with my hands held up and still dripping.

  “Any soap?”

  “Sure,” says Seth. “In the cabinet.”

  I root my feet to the floor.

  “What’s the matter now, princess?”

  “I can’t open your cabinets,” I say. “That would be an Invasion.”

  “A what?”

  “An Invasion.” I try to stay calm. But it’s tough when you’re talking to a Virus. “If I look in your cabinets, it would be an Invasion of Privacy.”

  “Again with the Vestal shit,” Seth mutters. He scoots past me into the bathroom and I follow behind. It’s tight quarters in here. “I don’t see what the big deal is.” He opens the cupboard and gets out some soap and a fresh towel. Then he stands there, watching as I wash up.