“Sure.”
Will shifted around some of the papers on one of his desks and came up with a jewelry catalogue. He flipped to a page he’d already marked.
“What do you think?” he asked. “I thought about this one, too.” He pointed to the same ring I’d just seen in the box, but this one had a red heart-shaped stone instead of a blue one. Still for the fabulous sale price of $149.99.
“No, the one you got her is great,” I said. “Stick with that.”
“You think so?” Will considered the pictures in the catalog. “Because I know she likes blue, but you know Gemma . . .”
I laughed. And to my ears it sounded like the laugh of a crazy person about to be executed. “Yeah, that Gemma. Hey, I really need to go.” I yawned and stretched out my arms, just like a character in a cartoon. “So tired. Better get my mom and head home.”
“Oh, sure.” Will hid the catalog back among the papers. No doubt when he and Gemma were back in there tonight, he didn’t want her snooping and ruining her surprise.
“So when are you going to give it to her?” I asked as I reached for the door. Even though technically I was beyond all caring. But it was like a disaster film—I just had to keep watching.
“At the ball,” Will said. “It’s just a few days before our one-year anniversary. I thought the timing was pretty perfect.”
“Yeah, perfect,” I snapped, yanking open his door.
And there was the hideous Gemma. Eavesdropping. Although she jumped back and pretended she wasn’t.
“There you are!” she said, winking at Will. “What are you and Miss Audie up to, then?”
“Computer question,” Will replied. I nodded. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care if she’d heard us, if Will gave her a ring, if she loved it, if she popped it in her mouth and choked on it—I didn’t care.
I went back into the living room and caught my mom’s eye. I motioned that it was time to go.
We said our goodbyes and got into the car. As my mom looked behind her to back out onto the street, she must have caught sight of my miserable face. I turned toward my window, but it was too late.
“Honey, are you crying?”
After all the lies I’d already today, one more seemed like one too many.
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know. My life just sucks.”
You make the biggest discovery in quantum physics history, and you still can’t get the guy.
44
When we got home my mom went straight to her bedroom and dragged out our favorite quilt. It’s one my mother’s grandmother made out of scraps of my mom’s old playdresses, like the one with the little cowgirl on it. I’ve always loved that quilt. It’s seen me through some rough times.
My mom invited me over to the couch and fluffed up a pillow for my head. “Lie down.”
I did. Then she propped up my feet on her lap and covered us both with the quilt and started rubbing my sad little feet. I draped my arm over my eyes. And waited for the whole world to go away.
My mother can be very patient when she has to. She just rubbed my feet for a while and waited. And finally I told her what was on my mind.
“How do you know who’s right for you?” I asked.
I could tell she wasn’t expecting that. And in a way, it wasn’t a fair question to ask her. I know very well how unhappy she was when my father left us. My mother did not want the divorce at all. But it was just one of those things—at least that’s what she’s always said. “People fall out of love—it’s just one of those things.”
But I’d started down that road, and now I was stuck. So I just kept going.
“I mean, I’m not really talking about you and Dad—”
My mom laughed nervously. “Well, that’s good.”
Especially since we just found out a few weeks ago that he has a new girlfriend, and she’s only eight years older than I am, which I think is gross, since she wouldn’t have even been able to babysit me when I was little. I only hope she doesn’t stick around long enough that I’ll actually have to meet her.
“Is it Will?” my mom asked.
I nodded.
She bent my toes back and then bent them forward. I could hear some of the joints crack. “Will is a very nice boy.”
I sighed. “Whatever. It’s pointless. He likes Gemma,” I said bravely, “and that’s that.”
My mother didn’t try to argue. And I guess I respect her for that. No need for her to lie to her child.
“You’re both very young,” she said, as if that answered anything.
I shrugged. “Really, I don’t care anymore. Tonight I was kind of surprised by something he said, but I’m over it now. Really.”
That wasn’t the truth, but I really wanted it to be. I mean, how many years can you give to a person or a cause or a pursuit before you realize it’s just not going to happen for you? Isn’t thirteen years enough? Shouldn’t it be?
My mother had a different take on it. “You can tell a lot about a person by the choices he makes. You know I love Will—I think he’s a very nice young man. But if that girl Gemma is the kind of girl he likes, then I’d say Will isn’t the right boy for you. Not even close.”
I laughed a little at that, in a kind of snotty way. That cry I’d had in the car was still lingering in my sinuses.
My mother squeezed my foot. “Audie, you’re a wonderful girl. There’s not a daughter in the world I’d rather have than you. And some day, someone is going to feel that way about you romantically. But I’d hold out for the right boy.”
The right boy. The right guy. And who might that be? See any other prospects hanging around, Mother? It’s not like I have my pick.
My mom glanced down at her fingernails. I know that gesture well. It means she has something to tell me that she doesn’t want to tell me. She looked at her nails the night she broke it to me my father was leaving. She looks at her nails every time she has to discuss the budget with me, and we have to decide what to scrimp on this particular month because she wasn’t able to pay herself out of the business, or my father’s check is late, or the car ate up hundreds of dollars in repairs, or that cavity I had filled cost as much as two week’s worth of groceries—it’s varied over the years. But I know that gesture.
“What?” I said.
“Columbia,” she said.
Now what. “What about it?”
My mother patted my leg for me to sit up. This wasn’t the time for foot massages—we were about to have a serious discussion. A discussion about my future.
“Audie, I really believe you’re one of the smartest girls in the world—”
Here it came—
“—and a university like Columbia would be so lucky to have you. I think you’d do great things there—will do great things, no matter where you go.”
“But . . .” I said.
“But I know you were counting on that Dr. Whitfield to give you a recommendation—”
“Well, not really.” She didn’t know I’d just said that as a cover for why I was talking to him so much. But I still didn’t understand why she was bringing this all up.
My mother hesitated, but then she got up from the couch. “Wait here a minute.”
She went into her bedroom and came out holding a stack of papers.
“I decided to do some checking on him yesterday, after I saw the two of you talking.”
“Mom—”
She held up her hand. “I’m not saying I don’t trust you, Audie, but I think it’s wise that we understand who he really is.”
Now she was making me mad. “Who he is happens to be a really brilliant physicist. I’d be lucky if I could get a recommendation from him.” I didn’t realize it until I said it, but now I could see that was true.
“I’m afraid not everyone thinks as highly of him as you do,” my mother said.
“What are you talking about?”
She handed me the stack of articles. “I just thin
k you should read up on him a little more—really see what his standing is in the community.”
“I don’t need to read those,” I said, pushing them away. “I know who he is. Why are you trying to attack him?”
“It’s not him I care about,” she said, “it’s you. Audie, I’m so proud of you—you have no idea how much. And I want to see you succeed in the ways I know are important to you. But it’s just a fact of life that some people can help you, and some people can hurt you. I’m afraid any association with Dr. Whitfield might hurt you—and your chances of getting into Columbia or anywhere else you might want to go.
“Just read them,” she said. “That’s all I ask.”
She left me alone then, with just the quilt and a handful of articles. All about Professor Walter “Skip” Whitfield.
I started reading. Because what else could go wrong tonight?
45
I read somewhere that when a scientist presents a new idea that’s just a little over people’s heads, everyone gets inspired. If he presents an idea that’s a little more over people’s heads, they all fall asleep. If it’s yet another step above their heads, people get angry. And if it’s too complex or challenging, then everyone wants to destroy him.
What I was reading was destruction.
I gave up after the third article. It was too sad and depressing. Poor Professor Whitfield. Obviously people felt threatened.
I took them back to my mother’s room. She was already in bed, reading.
“Mom, I appreciate this—I know you want me to know—but I can tell you, all these other scientists are just jealous.”
“Audie—”
“I know what you’re going to say. You think I’m just defending him. But I’ve talked to him. I’ve read his book. I know how advanced his ideas are. People don’t like to hear them—it’s like Copernicus back in his day. It’s dangerous to be too smart.”
My mother set down her book. “Honey, I know you mean well, but you have to admit you get these . . . academic crushes.”
“What? Mom, I told you—”
“I’m not saying you have a crush on Dr. Whitfield,” she went on. “Not like that. But you have to admit that for years now it’s been, ‘Professor Hawkins this,’ and ‘Professor Hawkins said that,’ and now it’s obvious you’ve found another professor you like better.”
I’m sure I was blushing hard. It’s so embarrassing to have your mother call you out like that. Plus it wasn’t true.
“I still respect Professor Hawkins,” I said. “Totally. Can’t I respect Professor Whitfield, too? He’s already helped me a lot—he explained some really hard physics problems to me that I know Mr. Dobosh wouldn’t understand at all.”
“I’m sure he’s very smart,” my mother said. “All I’m saying is that not everyone in the scientific community seems to agree that Dr. Whitfield is worth . . . admiring.”
It was so frustrating. How do you fight against gossip and pettiness? That’s all it was—those articles were a joke.
Just like what Professor Hawkins had said in his book about Dr. Whitfield—meanness, complete unnecessary meanness.
I laid the stack of papers at the foot of my mother’s bed. “Thanks, but I don’t need to read these. I know what I know. And Professor Whitfield is one of the best quantum physicists out there right now—I have no doubt about that.”
“All right,” my mother said. “I was just trying to—”
“I know, Mom. I get it. Thanks. I’m going to bed.”
I shut the door to her room and went into my own. This day was done. Over. I couldn’t take anymore. I didn’t even feel like staying up and seeing Halli, I was in that bad of a mood. All I wanted was some sleep. I just wanted to go to bed and forget everything that had happened in the last four or five hours.
What a silly idea that was. There was still a lot more to come.
46
“Heya,” Halli said quickly. She glanced over her shoulder. “We don’t have much time—”
“What? How? I didn’t meditate tonight! I wasn’t even trying! How did you do this? Wasn’t I just asleep?”
“Put these on,” Halli answered, shoving the clothes at me. I wore just my sleep shirt and boxers. I hadn’t seen a reason to throw on the long underwear.
And Halli was right: we didn’t have much time at all. I could already see Martin helping Daniel hobble toward us across the grass.
Red must have sensed how hyped up Halli and I were. It made him especially playful—which in this case meant tugging at the pants I was trying to put on.
The hirsch were bugling again. That odd, beautiful sound. And over the top of that, I heard Daniel calling out, “Audie?”
“Can you give us a minute?” Halli shouted.
“Only if you promise what I said,” Daniel called back.
“What did you promise? Red, give me those!”
Halli sighed. “That guy is persistent. I couldn’t get rid of him last night.”
Of course. Last night. The night when he’d been talking to some girl earlier in the day about her family lineage and where she was from, and then suddenly—zip!—magico disappearo. I’d sort of forgotten about that.
“What did you tell him?” I asked. “Did you hear what happened?”
“Oh, I heard,” Halli said. She fisted both hands, then made a whooshing noise as she exploded them open and let them drift apart. “Gone. Vanished.”
“Did he have a heart attack?”
“No, but I almost did,” Halli said. “He’d been standing at the trailhead so long, waiting for me to come down the mountain and answer him, his ankle swelled to about the size of a melon. I had to ice it and compress it and rewrap it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sprain look so bad. So what happened to you? Why did you go back?”
“It’s a long, horrible story,” I said. “I’ll tell you later.”
Because our time was almost up. Martin and Daniel had almost reached the hermit’s hut.
“What did you tell him?” I whispered to Halli.
“That you’d explain everything.”
“Thanks a lot!” I said.
“Well, what else was I supposed to—”
“Audie,” Daniel said, “may I speak to you?”
He was standing with his back to the sun, which meant I had to squint and couldn’t really see his face. But his voice sounded pretty tight.
“Sure, um, let me just finish putting on my boots—”
“Take your time,” Daniel said, awkwardly lowering himself to the ground. “I’m staying.”
“Need anything else, mate?” Martin asked.
“Yes. Would you please escort Halli Markham back with you?”
Halli must have seen the look on my face, because she said, “No . . . I think I’ll stay.” For which I was grateful.
Daniel turned to her. “You said I should speak to your cousin. I would like the courtesy of doing that alone. You gave me your word.”
Halli looked at me. I looked at Daniel. Now that he was down on the ground with me, I could see that he didn’t exactly look homicidal. Or even particularly upset. Just . . . determined.
“How about this?” I said. “Halli can go, but Red stays.” Having seen the beast in action when I first popped onto the scene, I knew he could be ferocious if I needed him to be.
“Agreed,” Daniel said.
Halli gave me an “Are you sure?” look, and I nodded. Then she and Martin headed back toward the outdoor tables.
Daniel hadn’t taken his eyes off me for at least the last minute. It made me uncomfortable enough that I instinctively leaned forward to let my hair curtain my face. But it only did half the job. I reached up to feel it. And still loved it. Sarah really knew what she was doing.
“Well?” Daniel said.
I went back to tying my boot.
Daniel reached out and clasped my wrist.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.” He let go. “I wanted to make sure you’re real.” Then he asked
what seemed like a reasonable question. “What are you?”
I guess I should be used to that by now.
“I’m human, just like you.”
“You can’t be,” he said. He reached out again for my wrist, but this time held it a lot more gently. Then he reached down and spread my fingers against his other, open hand.
“Your skin is warm.”
“Y-yes.” It didn’t feel that warm to me. More like icy and a little clammy.
Daniel looked into my eyes, shifting his gaze from one to the other. Like he was checking for wires or computer hardware behind them.
I pulled my hand back. “I’m human. I’m normal. I’m just not from here.”
Daniel swallowed. “Then where are you from?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, then let them open again. “Do you know much about science?”
“A bit.”
“Do you really want me to tell you this? It might be hard to accept.”
“Audie, seeing you disappear in front of my eyes yesterday was hard to accept. If you have an explanation, I’d be grateful. Please, I’m asking you.”
He was so polite. And so . . . ready, I thought. He’d obviously had a whole day and night to think about it, and now he actually seemed to be in some kind of pain, wanting to know so badly. And I could explain. So why would I withhold the truth from someone who wanted it so badly?
I drew two lines in the dirt.
“This is my universe,” I began. “This is yours.”
47
It’s good to have a dog with you in times of stress.
Because I noticed that both Daniel and I needed to pet Red—a lot—to get through our conversation. Which was fine with Red. He even rolled onto his back at one point to make sure someone rubbed his belly. Maybe Halli’s right and he doesn’t like that many people, but he does like me, and now, it seems, Daniel.
“What are you two doing?” Sarah called to us about midway through the conversation. Daniel ignored her.
“Do I need to send Martin?”
“No!” Daniel and I both shouted back.
Parallelogram Omnibus Edition Page 17