Mom and Dad could both get jobs up here, could probably earn enough money to get a nice house, and maybe they’d even be accepted by people like Arlee’s parents and Mabel’s.
“It sounds wonderful,” said Mom.
“I suppose it will change some things,” said Dad. “But nothing that really matters. Not to us. We always had enough to eat, shelter to protect us, and we had love for each other. The rest doesn’t seem like it matters much. Though I hope that it does help people truly in need.”
“Would you do the treatment, then?” I asked them.
Mom looked at Dad.
Dad looked at Mom. He shrugged.
I was surprised. I always thought they hated luck.
“It would seem silly not to,” said Mom.
“Like not getting vaccinated. As long as there is the technology, it seems like you have an obligation to use it,” said Dad. He was so blasé about this thing that was going to change the world.
“I thought you’d say it was bad.”
“We never thought luck was bad. How could it be, when you had so much of it and it was good for you? It was just that it took you away from us, I think. That made us suspicious of it a little.”
“I’m more worried about you, Trudy,” said Mom. “You wanted to stay here at St. James. But won’t everything that makes it special be gone in the blink of an eye?”
Dad nudged Mom. “She will always be special.”
“But not in the same way,” I said.
Dad waved a hand. “In a new way. A better way,” he said. “A way that is really yours. It will make everything clearer. Luck is only a crutch if that is all you have. Ask your boyfriend Rob about that and he will tell you.”
I stared at him and Mom. “I really love Rob,” I said.
“Well, I have to say I think better of him now. Telling the truth when it is difficult is admirable.”
Dad patted her hand and I knew everything was all right.
Chapter 20: Rob
It happened faster than either Trudy or I expected it to, all that weekend. By Sunday afternoon, twenty-four hours after Trudy released the electricity experiment on the internet, Art was released from jail and the school was saying that Art deserved credit for his experiments and that he had implicit permission to borrow equipment for them. Excel Pharmaceutical was saying they had always wanted to make the information about gaining luck with electric shocks public, and had only wanted to make sure that the bad luck bacteria was contained and out of the hands of dangerous criminals and young students who couldn’t be “trusted to understand its value or danger.”
We had yet to see if that would work for them. Their stock had dropped by about 60% and it was still plummeting.
On Monday morning, we drove over to pick up Art from the jail together. He had had bail posted from an anonymous donor who encouraged Art to continue his good work.
“What about Laura?” I asked.
“Still in the hospital,” said Trudy.
“Is she all right?”
“They wouldn’t tell me or my parents anything. We’re not relatives and medical status is privileged information,” said Trudy. “Plus with all this luck stuff going on, everyone with new luck being able to do things they couldn’t before, there’s chaos. More rules are being enforced than ever before because there are so many leaks feared.”
“It will all settle down eventually,” I said.
“Yeah, we hope, don’t we? Otherwise, we will be the ones the world remembers as having released the plague,” said Trudy.
I snorted at that. “You think anyone will remember the names of two or three teenagers? I doubt it. It will be about the Presidents of countries and the CEOs of major corporations. No one thinks we do anything. Look back in history. When have teenagers ever been given fair credit? We’re the ones who fight in most of the wars, after all.”
“I guess if we never get credit, we can’t get the blame, either? They wouldn’t want to admit that we have that much power.”
I nodded.
“I hope Art is all right, though. Have you talked to him since I—you know—outed the experiment?” She sounded nervous.
“A little. He wanted you to do it, you know,” I assured her.
“Good.” She took a deep breath.
Together, Trudy and I shouldered our way through the reporters who were crowded around. Apparently they had heard Art was being released today.
“Bad?” asked Art inside, peeking out the window.
I nodded. “So, what are you working on now?” I asked. Art isn’t one to stand around waiting for the grass to grow at his feet. He’d have something new and interesting scientifically he was ready to throw himself into.
“Oh, it’s about time travel. Einstein never did solve the problem, but I think that if I can figure out how to erase mass, I could do it. Massless forces could travel back through time in a close to light speed pulse.” He went on like that for a few more minutes, but that was all I understood.
Eventually, he figured out that Trudy and I had glazed-over eyes.
“Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away.”
“What are you going to tell them?” asked Trudy, nodding outside.
“You think it matters? They’ll print whatever they want, anyway. I figured they just wanted a photo.”
With that, we tucked together and went out. It was harder to get through than I thought, and I was surprised that any of the reporters wanted to talk to me or Trudy. Maybe that was just because anytime they put a microphone next to Art, he started quoting scientific formulas with numbers and quantities and explanations based on the atomic number of the universe.
We finally got to the car, and Art started laughing. “Pretty good, don’t you think?” he asked Trudy.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, all of that stuff I said. Absolute nonsense. I just made it up to get them to sound like idiots when they write it up. Any real scientist will know it’s nothing the moment they read it.”
“Ha, very funny,” I said. Art had always had an interesting sense of humor. I had been headed back to my parents’ house. There were reporters there, but they had to keep off the private property, so that would give us a big buffer.
We walked inside together and there was Grandma. She looked alert and happy and she was standing on her own two feet for the first time in years.
“Robert!” she said, and held out her arms to me.
I hugged her tight. She felt thin, but not as fragile as she had the last time I’d seen her.
I looked over at my dad. “How—?” I asked.
“I made sure they tried the luck shock treatment on her. I figured there wasn’t much to lose. It helped her, a lot.”
I stared at him.
“I know it was dangerous, but I also knew how much she meant to you. To both of us. She loved you so much, and things changed when she was gone. I wanted them to go back to the way they were before. And better,” said Dad.
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but as long as Grandma was here, I was good.
“And Trudy?” I asked.
“Trudy is always welcome here,” said Mom. “And Art, too, of course.” She gestured to the table, which was weighted down in all of Grandma’s favorite foods, and mine. And Trudy’s favorite chocolate bomb, as well. It was a nice gesture. I guess maybe things do change.
I took Trudy’s hand.
“Kiss her,” said Grandma. “Don’t wait for it. You never know when you won’t have another chance.”
So I kissed Trudy right then in front of Mom and Dad and Art and Grandma.
It was tentative at first, like we were kissing for the first time all over again. Then she sighed into me and I felt like I was more hers than I ever had been before, because I was finally fully myself. And she knew who I was and loved me more than ever.
END
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An Ideal Boyfriend Page 17