I glance around, but everyone is too busy with their individual tasks. The assistant assigned to supervise me is stuffing her face at the craft services table. It’s now or never.
With shaking hands, I tap the screen. The screensaver blinks off, and there’s no login required. It’s my lucky day. About time.
I type and tap my way to the Internet and search for “Christiansen.” I furtively check again to see if anyone is watching me, then look at the results.
Hundreds of articles pop up with crazy headlines: “Quack scientist called to account for dead Thumbelinas,” and “Tiny new television star the only survivor?” I tap on the first entry and skim it until I come to:
Dr. Julia Christiansen is expected to appear before a judge in December. A prosecutor will determine what charges she will receive at that time. A panel of scientists is convening to determine whether or not the Thumbelinas can be classified as humans so Christiansen can be charged with manslaughter. If not, she may get off with an animal cruelty charge, which carries a maximum sentence of two years in prison and a fine of 20 grams of gold. No evidence against Dr. Christiansen has been released to the public at this time.
So that’s it. I scan the rest of the article, looking for information I don’t already know, but the only thing I find is that Dr. Christiansen was turned in by an unnamed source and the Lilliput Project never revealed how many Thumbelinas were born. They didn’t even announce my birth until I was six months old. So the other girls must have died between birth and six months.
It’s enough for now. I click off of the news article and join my assistant, who has salad dressing dribbling down her chin.
“Ah waf wooking awww ovuh for you,” she says through a mouth full of salad.
“Well, here I am. Can we go now?”
She swallows. “Sure, but let me finish. You don’t want any?”
“No, I’ll get room service later.”
“They have tiny cupcakes.”
“Really?”
She points at a giant cupcake tree on the dessert table. The topmost tier is lined with mini versions of my Achilles’ heel—the chocolate cupcake.
I excuse myself and launch over to the tower of sugar. There are several different kinds of icing on them—mint, cherry, strawberry, and peach. I pick a strawberry one and pull away the foil wrapper on the bottom.
“Hey, Lina.”
It’s Row, and he’s looking apologetic and awkward.
“How did you get here?”
“We all came along,” he says. “We had to stay in the trailer while you were shooting. Look, I’m sorry.”
I don’t even know what to say.
“I’m really sorry. I felt bad after…everything we had talked about.”
“What does that even mean? You’ve been telling me over and over again to ‘make the best of it, Lina, blah blah blah.’ Then I go ahead and follow your advice and suddenly you’re freaking out and apologizing. What were you sorry for—that you stopped kissing me or that you ever started in the first place?”
“Kind of both?”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “Well, that’s real helpful.”
“Listen,” he says, an odd mix of dejection and panic in his downcast expression, “it was a reaction. I don’t know exactly where it came from. It was kind of an intense moment there, and I was having a really hard time thinking clearly.” A bashful smile chases away the gloom. “You have that effect on me.”
I keep my arms folded, but I’m melting on the inside.
“Give me another chance?”
I chew on the inside of my lip. I’m not sure how “another chance” will look, but I don’t have it in me to hold a grudge against him for this. All of the cameras, all of the photos, the constant primping and virtual imprisonment—it’s taken a toll on us all. I can’t blame him for feeling confused. “Confused” has been my middle name since this all began.
“Okay,” I say, even though a thread of doubt winds around my heart.
A sunbeam smile bursts from his face. “Thanks.” He sweeps me into a hug, and electricity zigzags through me again, leaving me breathless. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
A flush creeps to my hairline. I’m not sure I’m ready for him to make anything up, but I nod anyway.
“Well, aren’t you cute,” says a derisive voice.
Row lets go of me, and I turn to see Shrike wearing his disgust on his face.
“Hi, Shrike,” I say.
“I guess you’ve already made your choice.”
“Shrike, it’s not like that.”
“Sure it’s not.” He nods curtly. “I get it. I’ll leave you two alone.”
I make a loud raspberry noise and drop my head into my hands.
“Is he your next date?” Row asks.
“Yep.”
“Sorry.”
Me too.
Chapter 25
“So, I figured I would take you some place a little less exotic this time,” Jack said after I’d booted up my halojector. “And all you need for this one is your monitor and camera.”
I switched off the halojector, puzzled. “Where are we going?”
He grinned into the two-way camera as he tugged it off its stand. “How would you like to meet my family and see where I live?”
“Oh! Wow. Sure!” I ran my fingers through my hair and smoothed it down, and then I knotted my hands together in my lap. I hadn’t seen this one coming.
“Awesome. I’ll try not to jiggle this around too much.” Then he dropped the camera. “Oops, sorry about that. Hope you don’t get motion sickness.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Okay, here’s my room. You’ve probably seen my wall already since it’s behind my computer chair, but here’s the rest.” He panned the camera around, and what I saw sobered me. A twin bed with a sagging mattress sat against the wall. The sheets and blanket were clean but fraying around the edges. The floor was water-stained, bare plywood. He panned to the ceiling. “That’s my leak. It lets me be one with nature all the time!”
There was a small bookcase crammed full of shabby paperbacks. A broken dresser stood in the corner, one of its drawers hanging out halfway.
Jack walked over to the bed. I could hear him breathing. “And this is where my little brother Matt sleeps.” He pulled out a trundle from underneath his own bed. It was neatly made with faded cartoon sheets.
“It’s not much, but it’s pretty comfortable. Matt likes to play outside when he’s not in school, so it feels like it’s my own room most of the time.” He turned the camera around so I could see his face again. His brown eyes were full of joy. “And if he’s in here when I’m talking to you, I can kick him out since I’m the boss!”
“It’s lovely, Jack,” I said with a smile. “It’s very homey.”
Behind him, the door swung open, and Matt burst inside.
“Raaaaaawrrr!” he shouted as he ran full-speed to Jack and disappeared from my view. The sudden lurch in the camera told me Matt had made contact.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“Can you come and play with me?”
“I will in a minute. How about you say hi to my friend first? Here, can you see her?” Jack knelt down, and Matt peered into the camera. He was only about six or seven years old, and he looked like a younger, smaller version of his older brother.
“What’s her name?”
“Lina. Go ahead and introduce yourself.”
“Hi, Lina. I’m Matt! When are you coming over?”
“Not for a while, Matt. I live a long way away. But it’s nice to meet you!”
“Why can’t she come over?”
“Because she lives across the ocean.”
“Oh.”
Jack’s face again. “And that’s Matt! There he goes.” The door slammed behind the tiny black-haired whirlwind as he ran out to play. “Ready for the rest of the family?”
“Um, yep! Bring it on.”
He opened the door into a
living room crammed with tattered old furniture. A gleaming cherry wood coffee table stood out as the only nice piece in the room. The floor was unfinished particle board with several rugs thrown down here and there.
Next to the living room was the dinette and kitchen. A small table that would only comfortably seat three people at most sat against the wall. A chubby girl with ill-fitting clothes and carefully curled hair sat coloring a map.
“Say hi, Kendall.”
She set down her marker, tossed her head, and glared at him. She was about twelve years old and full of attitude.
“I’m not a baby, Jack.”
“I didn’t say you were. I want you to say hello to a friend of mine.”
“Are you recording?”
“Yep. She’s watching right now.”
“Seriously?”
“How many times do I have to say it?”
And with that, she cowed a little. Her confidence receded when she realized she was being watched by an unfamiliar face.
“Who is it?”
He walked closer, held the camera so she could see who I was. I waved and smiled.
“Hi Kendall, I’m Lina! Nice to meet you.”
“Hi.”
“Lina lives in Denmark. That’s in Europe.”
“I know where it is. I know where all the states are in Europe.”
“That’s because you study hard.” And to me, he said, “She really likes geography. She’s always color-coding different maps.”
“I don’t color-code them,” she said and rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Anyway, moving on! This is Mom.”
I’d expected a short, heavy-set woman. What I saw was a lithe creature with beautiful, haunted eyes. She kept her hair in a single, long braid, and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was Jack’s older sister.
She flipped a pancake and waved at the camera. “Hello, friend of Jack’s.”
He stepped closer and she peered at me.
“She’s very pretty,” she said. “You’re welcome any time, Lina. I can tell you make him happy.” And then she smiled her faraway smile and went back to her cooking.
“Okay, now for the outside.”
I held onto my lunch as he shaky-cammed his way out through the weeds and several rusted-out cars to the stable.
“And this here is my pride and joy, Sampson.” The pinto snorted and stamped as if he knew someone was talking about him. Jack held an apple slice in his open palm and the horse ran his thick lips over it and snatched it with another snort as if to say, “Do better next time.”
Jack laughed and turned the camera on himself once more. “So what do you think?”
“I really wish I could meet your family in person. They seem like such interesting people. I love your little brother.”
“Yeah, he’s a handful. But fun. You really should come here sometime.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Jack, you know I would love to, but I don’t know how that would happen.”
“I know.” His smile stayed put. “But a guy can dream, can’t he? It’s what keeps me going. Anyway, want to see the Badlands?”
“From horseback?”
“From horseback.”
“Oh, yes please!”
Chapter 26
I thought they would take us to the Badlands next, but I was wrong. I stare out the airplane window, filled with both relief and disappointment. I could have been so close to Jack—only miles away from his home. Maybe that’s why Dr. Christiansen decided the next date would take place back in Denmark.
Dr. Christiansen is definitely relaxing her icy grip, although I’m not sure why. I still have the tracking device implanted somewhere in my skin and the drones are tuned and readied each time we go outside, but she herself is more distant. We’ve barely spoken since we left Copenhagen for Hawaii. I’m sure she’s somewhat preoccupied with the hearing, but normally she gets even stricter when she’s stressed out. Maybe she’s “rewarding” my good behavior like she would a dog.
An arm brushes mine. Row sets his elbows on the window sill and leans against me. “Ready to go home?”
“Only if I get to sleep in my own bed.” I remember sitting on the living room floor, crumpled and broken with my computer in my arms. “But I don’t think it will be the same as before.”
“I hear you’ll be coming to New Zealand after you, you know, make your choice.”
“Who told you that?”
He shrugs. “People. It’s a rumor that’s been floating around. I heard some of the assistants saying Lilliput I will be closed after the show wraps.”
I frown and gaze out the window. That means I’ll never get to fly through my forest again. My treehouse will be no more. And what about George and Mr. Coxworth? I can’t imagine them moving to New Zealand.
“Hey,” Row says, nudging me. “Don’t look so depressed. New Zealand is gorgeous, and we’re right on the beach.”
“I bet it is, but it’s not my home.”
“I think you, of all people, could make a home anywhere. You’ve got this way of bending everything and everyone toward you.”
“Pssh. I do not.”
“Lina, look around. You’ve got six guys after you and an entire show about your love life.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like you have any other choices.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re in the center of our world.”
I squirm under the weight of those words. The only reason there’s any truth to what he says is because of Dr. Christiansen, not me.
But, now that I think about it, hasn’t it always been that way? The entire Lilliput Project I Compound exists to protect and care for me. Sure, Dr. Christiansen has always continued her own research, but she didn’t need a forest with a dome fence to do it. I am the reason for all of the fuss.
My cheeks flush as I realize I’ve always been at the center of attention. I took it for granted, expected it. Even Mr. Coxworth’s work revolves around finding natural medicines for me. I’ve never even thanked him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I shake my head. “Yeah. I’m fine.” But the world has shifted slightly in my mind, and I’m seeing everything through a different facet now. When my eyes meet Row’s again, he looks older. He still wears his sunny smile, but there’s something more beneath the familiar exterior: a depth of soul I never guessed at before.
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“Sorry. You seem different somehow.”
He laughs. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”
I shake my head. “There must be something in the Hawaiian water.”
“Something good, I hope.”
We watch as the islands disappear into the horizon. In fifteen hours, we’ll be in Copenhagen.
***
The crowd outside the Copenhagen airport is almost identical to the one that waited for us in Honolulu, with one important difference—this one looks angry. Instead of holding signs having to do with my love life, they’re waving slogans like, “1% Human is Still Human,” and “Free the Fairies.” I’m surprised I’m not more encouraged by their presence. I mean, I’m happy the public here is rallying behind my cause, but I doubt it will have any real impact on my life.
We’re escorted off the airport grounds by the politiet. My carrier sits next to Dr. Christiansen in the back of the limo, and I can’t see anything but the seat in front of me. She says nothing other than to give terse directions to the driver.
I curl up in the bunk bed and snap the guardrails into place. I try to nap, but sleep evades me. We’ve been gone less than a week, but it seems like much longer. I feel as though I’m years older.
And I’m tired.
The limo stops outside the gate to the compound, and the driver lets us out. A golf cruiser waits for us inside. Jane hops out and helps to unload our bags into the trunk of the cruiser. She grabs my carrier a little more roughly than I think is really necessary and
sets it down on the backseat.
“Let her out,” says Dr. Christiansen.
Say what? I press my ear closer to one of the slits in the carrier. She flips open her suitcase and pulls out a drone, powers it up. If I run, I’ll be chased down. Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.
Jane opens the door and I step outside.
“Lina, you are free to travel about the grounds once again. Your treehouse has been prepared for you. I am sure you understand what the consequences will be if you decide not to cooperate.”
I do.
She raises her eyebrows as if to ask me why I’m still there.
“I guess I’ll go then.”
Jane gives me her creepily sincere smile, and I head toward home. It’s a clear day, but the light seems dimmer in the compound. It must be the dome. Strange I’ve never noticed it before.
I slide under the door to Mr. Coxworth’s house, but he’s not there. In fact, the entire compound seems unusually quiet. Where is everyone?
When I check for George at the aviary, it’s empty. There are no birds in the roosts. The entire thing has been cleaned out.
“George!” I check every single inch for any sign of him, hoping against hope he left something for me that will tell me where he is and how to contact him.
Nothing.
I race off to his dormitory on the far side of the living area. When I get there, a housekeeper I’ve never seen before is sweeping the wood floors. All of his things are gone.
“Where is he?” I ask her. “Where’s George?”
“I do not know,” she says in a thick German accent. “I was hired and told clean the empty rooms.”
The urge to cry tugs down the corners of my mouth. I have to find someone who will explain this. I need to know where and why he has gone. How can there be a Lilliput Project without George?
A hand waves at me from behind a tree. It’s Mr. Coxworth. He’s scraping bits of bark off of the tree into a plastic bag, but he stops and lifts his sunglasses when I fly up to him.
“Where’s George? What happened?”
“Ah. I knew it wouldn’t take you long to notice. The white witch thought you’d be slower on the uptake. George received his notice two days after you left for Hawaii.”
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