Genesis Girl

by Jennifer Bardsley

  “It’s a huge deal,” I say. We’re standing so close I can smell him. At least he smells clean. Exactly like I remember.

  “Oh yeah?” Seth says. “Why is that?”

  I nod at the medicinal shampoo in the shower. “You have dandruff.” Then I look at the floor and counter. “A girl was here, maybe a while ago by the looks of that hairpin on the floor, and you leave weird notes next to your shaving brush. That’s way more about your life than I ever wanted to know.”

  “I don’t have dandruff,” Seth says, his voice getting louder. “No comment on the female visitor, and you can blame my mom for the notes under the shaving brush. That’s just a thing we used to do.” His chest moves up and down rapidly like his blood is pounding hard. He always gets worked up when he talks about his mom.

  I remember that too.

  I turn away and dry my hands off on the towel, trying to stay in the present and forget all of the rest. “My shirt’s ruined. I look like I’m wearing brown.”

  “I’ll get you a clean one.” Seth comes back a minute later with a crisp white oxford. It smells like detergent but also like him.

  I wait for Seth to leave the bathroom before I strip off my T-shirt and button up the broadcloth.

  When I return to the living room, it’s slightly cleaner, like Seth raced around picking up trash the few minutes I was alone in the bathroom. I head back toward the couch, but Seth stops me.

  “Don’t sit there! Here,” he says, pointing to a chair. “Sit here. There’s better light.” Then he clicks on the lamp next to my chair and another one on the wall behind him.

  “I’m here to deliver a message from your dad,” I say, sitting down. “Cal wants to see you again. He’s upset about how things turned out. He doesn’t want Ms. Lydia to come between you.”

  Seth runs his hands through his dark hair, and it sticks up in spikes. “The thing is,” he says. “Maybe I could be cool with this. But Lydia being a Vestal weirds me out.” He leans forward and gazes at me intently. “Maybe I could be more comfortable with the situation if you tell me more about her.”

  “Sure.” I try to think what I could say that would make Seth understand how wonderful Ms. Lydia is without giving too much up. “She’s brilliant. She can talk about anything.”

  Seth hangs on every word. “Tell me more,” he says.

  Something about the way he’s suddenly being so polite makes me suspicious. “We still have our deal, right? What’s said between you and me is private?”

  “Yes, Blanca. Of course, Blanca.”

  He’s such an ass. I don’t trust him one bit.

  “Look.” I rub my platinum cuff for support. “The bottom line is that your dad is super happy, and it’s all because of Ms. Lydia. The only thing missing from his life right now is you. Won’t you give it a chance?”

  “A chance? You want me to watch my dad make a fool of himself?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Seth grits his teeth. “Do you know what Lydia’s story is? Where does she live? Who purchased her? What do you really know about her?”

  “That’s none of my business.”

  “And it doesn’t bother you?” Seth presses on. “It doesn’t make you mad that Lydia’s probably going off to another guy who purchased her and then coming home to my dad? I thought you cared about him.”

  “I do care about Cal!” I protest. “And that’s not how it is. You’ve got it all wrong.” I’m so angry at how Seth is slandering Ms. Lydia that my words spill out before I can stop them. “Ms. Lydia’s giving your dad all her free time. She’s giving him her choice. She’s choosing to be with him! That’s more important than anything else.”

  “That’s so messed up I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

  “It’s not messed up!”

  “It is too!” Seth says. “Look, how do you know that Lydia’s purchaser isn’t telling her to like my dad?”

  “Because her contract is—” I start to say. But I stop myself in time.

  “Her contract is what?”

  “Nothing.” I can’t tell Seth that Ms. Lydia no longer answers to her purchaser. Her business is private. I shouldn’t trust Seth at all. Not one bit!

  “I know you know something,” Seth says.

  “No. I mean, no, I don’t. I’m only guessing. It’s none of my business.”

  “Admit it. It’s possible that somebody’s pulling Lydia’s strings.”

  But I don’t admit it because I know it’s not true. Ms. Lydia’s contract is up. She’s with Cal because she wants to be with him. She’s the most perfect Vestal there is. She’s everything I want to be.

  “I would never let anybody hurt your dad,” I say with sincerity.

  “Look, Blanca. I’m never going to be okay with my dad and Lydia being together unless you can tell me some more information about her.”

  “That’s not going to happen!”

  “Then I guess we’re done here.”

  “No. We’re not.”

  “How do you figure?” Seth rubs the back of his neck.

  “Because your dad told me to make you listen. He said to make you understand.”

  “And you do everything my dad tells you to?” Seth asks.

  Seth’s mocking me again, and it hurts. I look down at my platinum cuff and try to remember my long-ago lessons from Ms. Corina. First I relax my forehead, then my cheeks, then my smile, until finally I straighten my spine like it’s being lifted from above, and I’m placid. I’m perfectly placid.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow,” I say. “I’m going to make you understand.”

  “I’ll never understand.”

  “Maybe so,” I say. “But Ms. Lydia’s moving in with us anyway.”

  Set’s face goes white, the tattoos sitting on his skin like liquid ink. “What?”

  “The workers are there right now, lining your dad’s rooms with lead.”

  Seth doesn’t say anything. He stands there, stunned. And deep inside, I find the urge to reach out and comfort him. To wrap myself around him in a hug. But I don’t have the courage.

  “See you tomorrow,” I finally say.

  I’m not sure if he hears me.

  Cal waits for me in his office. He purses his lips when he sees my new shirt. “What happened?”

  “Ice cream.” I shrug. “I’m sorry, Cal, but I couldn’t make Seth listen to reason. I’m going back tomorrow to try again.”

  Cal raises his eyebrows. “I see. Well, here’s something for you in the meantime.” He shows me the miniature solar cells he’s brought in for me to play with. They’re hooked up to an old-fashioned calculator that’s broken.

  “This is your new task for today. Figure out how this works.” Cal smiles, encouraging me with his faith in my capability. Then he leaves for some meetings.

  The tiny solar circuit is like a little mystery. I look at it from every angle before I open up my textbooks. Then I take the circuit apart, tinkering until it works.

  There’s something about the circuit that reminds me of a cloister. A cloister has to be completely secure so your privacy doesn’t escape. All the windows and doors are locked. It’s the same thing with the circuit. One little opening and the electrons run free.

  When Cal comes to get me at the end of the day, I’m standing next to the window. “Well?” he says. “Let’s see what you accomplished.”

  I hold the calculator to the light, and the solar cells charge after a few seconds. The little calculator fires right up, flashing numbers and ready for work.

  “This is only the beginning,” Cal tells me. “If you can do this, then you can do anything.”

  And I smile because I know he is right.

  I can do anything if Cal tells me to.

  The next day Seth’s apartment is considerably cleaner. He must have spent the last twenty-four hours covering the whole place in bleach. Lights are on everywhere, and one of the windows is open, letting in
some fresh air. It even looks like Seth brushed his hair.

  “It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” I say, “once you finally cleaned it up.”

  Seth shrugs. “I decided to give the maid a call.”

  I throw down my jacket on an armchair and make a turn around the room, fingering the bookshelves like I’m examining his knickknacks. Really, I’m looking for hidden cameras, just in case. I’ve been thinking about Seth turning on all those lights yesterday and hoping it wasn’t some sort of nefarious move.

  “We still have a deal, right?” I try to sound friendly. “You promised to keep our conversations private?”

  “Of course, Blanca.” Seth grins. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “About as much as you trust me.” I sit on the edge of the couch. Maybe I’m being paranoid.

  “In my defense, you did try to trick me. That night, under the tree, in my room, the rest of it … ” Seth comes to the couch and sits next to me. “You really messed with me. For a couple of days there I thought … But then it turns out you were under directions from my dad.”

  I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Because maybe I did like Seth—for a few minutes, at least. But there’s no way I’m admitting that I ever liked a Virus.

  “I’m sorry.” It takes a lot to say that.

  “To be clear,” Seth says, “my dad didn’t tell you to mess with me now, right?”

  “No,” I say, instantly defensive. “But he wants you to understand. Cal’s happy, and he wants you to be part of that.”

  “Maybe I could be … Maybe if you told me a little more about the Vestals, I’d understand.”

  “Okay.” If Seth thinks he can trick me, he’s got another thing coming. I know what I’m allowed to say.

  I give Seth my best, most innocent girl-next-door smile. I can sell soap, I can sell clean energy, and I can sell Seth the cleaned-up version of Vestal history. I’ll just leave out the part about the dissenters. That’s harder to explain. “The Vestals were founded fifty years ago by a man named Barbelo Nemo, who lost people he loved in the Brain Cancer Epidemic.”

  “Was Barbelo Nemo his real name?” Seth interrupts.

  “Yes, of course it was. Why would you ask that?”

  “No reason. I’m naturally inquisitive. What does Barbelo Nemo look like?”

  “He has long white hair, a beard, and glasses.”

  “So he basically looks like Santa?”

  “Stop being an ass!” I snap. Then I fight not to seem annoyed. Vestal history is pure, and I need to do it justice.

  “Sorry,” says Seth, and his apology seems genuine. “Have you ever met Barbelo?”

  “No. He stays private now. Barbelo has retreated to his estate, but nobody knows where that is. Nobody has seen him in the past twenty years, but Headmaster Russell receives messages from him almost daily.”

  “How?” Seth asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How does Russell get messages from Barbelo, if neither of them are connected?”

  What an idiot! “Um, the postal service? Ever heard of that?”

  “The mail? You mean like snail mail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody but the government uses snail mail anymore.”

  “Well, Vestals use the postal service too.”

  “But,” Seth protests, “you’d have to have a special permit. You’d need to be a politician or somebody to still get the USPS. It went bankrupt years ago. Now it’s only for VIPs.”

  “Exactly,” I answer.

  Seth pauses a second, letting that sink in. Then he asks, “So how did it all start? Why were the Vestals founded to begin with?”

  “Barbelo began the order with the children of his friends who had died. He vowed to protect them. He vowed to keep them safe from all the things that had consumed his loved ones. He was brilliant because he saw that technology and cancer were one and the same. Some people were dying of brain cancer and some people weren’t, but everyone was suffering the same fate in the end. Technology was driving people apart and tearing them away from the physical presence of the people they loved.”

  I’ve got my cuff against my heart, and I don’t remember putting it there.

  “That’s why the Vestals were founded, Seth. We are living reminders to the rest of the world that there is a better way to live.”

  “And you buy that?” Seth asks. “You believe that a bunch of people who died would name Barbelo—if that’s his real name—as the guardian to their kids?”

  “Of course,” I say. “That’s what happened. Everyone knows that.”

  “Only Vestals would say that,” argues Seth. “Normal people would ask more questions. They’d want to see evidence.”

  “I am normal.” I get up, ready to leave, but Seth stops me.

  “Wait,” he says. “Explain the Harvest to me.”

  “That’s easy,” I say. “The world was fed up! People and companies were sick and tired of celebrities hawking products one day and being on the front page of tabloids the next. Nobody could trust anybody. It was bad for business. That’s why companies started harvesting Vestals instead. We’re completely trustworthy and consumers know that.”

  “And you can’t be scanned.”

  “Yes.” I smile. Seth’s finally getting it! “Nobody can look up our past history of transgressions at the scan of a fingertip. There’re no dumb pictures of us as teenagers following us around. Vestals are virtually blank, and that makes us special.”

  “Special is right,” Seth says. But he doesn’t say it like it’s a compliment.

  “So you see?” I continue, ignoring the slam. “Ms. Lydia and I, we’re completely trustworthy, like the rest of the Vestals. That’s why—”

  “Why what?”

  “Nothing,” I say. I was about to tell Seth about the Vestal Archives, but I stopped myself before the slip.

  “I want to trust you,” Seth says. “But I’m worried about you too.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m scared for you. Do you know what my mom said the definition of a god was?” When I don’t move a muscle, Seth answers for me. “Somebody you’re willing to bet your life on.”

  “I don’t think Barbelo’s a god,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

  “You have, and you don’t even realize it. That’s the scariest part of all.”

  “Well, now you’re being ridiculous.”

  “I am not. You’re so hell-bent on following Barbelo Nemo and believing that whatever he says is right, that you’ve lost all sense of self.”

  “How can you say that?” My back tenses.

  “Because you don’t make your own rules. You don’t think your own thoughts!”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Is it?” Seth asks. “Here’s another question: what do you like to do, Blanca? What do you like to do for fun?” Seth looks at me closely. His dark eyes pierce me so hard that I have to fight the urge to look away.

  “What type of question is that?” I stall for time. Nobody’s ever asked me that before.

  “I’m proving a point. What do you like to do in your free time?”

  “I like to read,” I answer. “I write letters. I do yoga. I go running. Normal stuff like that.”

  “Those are all things they tell you to do,” Seth says.

  I start to protest, but he stops me.

  “If you could do anything … If you had one perfect day to yourself, what would it be?” Seth stares at me so hard that all of a sudden I feel like I can’t breathe.

  “That’s private,” I finally say, getting up to go.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” says Seth, still sitting on the couch. “You haven’t made me listen to reason yet.”

  I don’t bother to argue. The sooner I can get to the cloister in my car, the better.

  We kiss in the rain. My white dress clings to me and becomes transparent, but the way m
y breasts are crushed into Trevor, I’m completely covered. He’s got his arms around me, pulling me up to my toes. The water pours down his back, hitting every angle of his muscled shoulders. It’s another perfect date caught on camera for our companies to market.

  It’s too bad Trevor’s mother is watching. Lilith shoots daggers my way every time I turn around. She makes the camera crew of Vestal Rejects seem friendly.

  Then Lilith glares at me one more time, and I finally get it. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure the situation out.

  That woman isn’t Lilith at all!

  At least, she’s not the Lilith I remember from the Citrus Sunshine commercial. I think she’s actually Sarah, who used to come to my kindergarten class. Lilith and Sarah are dead ringers for each other.

  “Am I doing better this time?” Trevor whispers, interrupting my thoughts. The stage techs adjust the rain machine, and a gentle mist envelopes us.

  “Much better.” I lean into him. But when my ear is pressed against solid shoulder, I think harder.

  Sarah’s been going gray since ninth grade. Now she’s making women all across the world believe that she’s Lilith, and that wrinkle cream will make them look as young as her. And how is anyone going to ever find out the truth about Sarah being twenty-five? They’re not! Sarah has no virtual fingerprint. She’s a blank slate, like me.

  But the real question is, what happened to the previous Lilith? Why did they need to replace her?

  “I could get used to this,” Trevor murmurs into my hair. “You’re so perfect,” he says before he kisses me again.

  And I love him for saying that. Even though I know it’s not true. But with Trevor, it feels like it could be true, no matter who his crazy Vestal-mom is.

  We shot a picnic-in-the-park scene this morning, and he fed me chocolate-covered strawberries. Then a scene at the pet store with all the puppies. This has been the best day of filming ever.

  Things are about a thousand times better with Trevor than they were last time. He’s really loosened up. It’s like he knows all the right words to say. The only time it’s awkward is when Lilith/Sarah is around.