The Evolution of Claire (Jurassic World)

by Tess Sharpe

  But I know better. Money is influence. Money is power.

  And Simon Masrani has a lot of money. He has connections all over the world, in hundreds of different industries. He has the ear of important people. If I play this right, impress him, in fifteen years, when I’m mounting my first political campaign, he may very well be my first donor, and lead me to many more.

  A kingmaker—that’s the kind of man Masrani is. He’s brought true royalty back into the animal kingdom to show the world. After the island is open to the public, there will be nothing that man can’t do. If he invested just a sliver of his fortune and influence into changing certain laws, the world could be a better place for all of us—human, dinosaur, and any other animal.

  If I tell this to my mom, she’ll get a look on her face I don’t want to see. A look that’s flat-out concerned because I shouldn’t think that way…I shouldn’t be so calculating.

  But when you’re a girl with no name, no money, and no connections, you’ve got to seize every opportunity that comes your way. And this is the biggest one I will ever get.

  “Bright Minds is a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” I explain. “Especially because this will be the only intern group on board before the park opens.”

  “That’s what worries me,” my mother says.

  “I don’t think they’d be bringing in interns if they hadn’t worked out all the problems,” I say with a smile. “They don’t want to get sued before opening.”

  I don’t want to remind her of the first park—the one that never opened. She’ll just freak out even more.

  “This is just one summer,” I continue. “I can always get a legal internship next year. And the year after that, I’ll qualify for the internship with the DC fixers I really wanted, which I’m not old enough for now.”

  “So…this internship…this is your way of cutting loose,” Mom says, her eyebrows drawn together like I’m a bunch of scraps she needs to piece into a crazy quilt but hasn’t figured out how. “This is you having fun.”

  “I’d have fun at all these internships,” I say. “But this…Mom, only twelve people in the entire world get chosen for this. That’s…” I’m smiling just at the thought. “I will never get another chance like this,” I finally whisper, afraid to say it out loud, because it’s true.

  Mom taps her fingers against her lips, that puzzled look still on her face. “Are you going to talk to Professor Broadhurst about it?” she asks.

  “I emailed her last night.”

  “She’ll probably want you to take it, won’t she?” Mom asks tentatively.

  “She’s the one who encouraged me to apply,” I say.

  Mom sighs, staring into her coffee cup like it holds the right answer I can’t seem to give her. Upstairs, I hear the shower turn on—Dad’s awake.

  “Karen will be here to drop off Zach soon for breakfast. We’ll talk about this later,” Mom says, like she thinks this isn’t over.

  “Okay,” I say, even though I know it is.

  My mind is made up. Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s reckless. But it’s what I want.

  When I go upstairs to my room to change, I write an email accepting the Bright Minds internship. And as I hear the front door open and my nephew calling for Grandma, I press send before I go to join my family.

  “I cannot believe you got accepted to Bright Minds!” Regina shrieks over the phone.

  I close my eyes, her excitement making me feel normal for the first time since I left college three days ago. “I can’t believe it either. I only applied because Professor Broadhurst insisted.”

  “Aren’t you glad she did now?” Regina asks, laughing. “What did she say when you told her?”

  “She sent me the nicest email,” I say. “She said she’s really proud of me.”

  “Of course she is! This is an achievement,” Regina crows. In the background, I can hear an automated voice saying something about baggage claim.

  “Are you at the airport?” I ask. “I thought your flight was next week.”

  “It was, but turns out the literary magazine needs me a week earlier, so I’m heading out tonight.”

  “Are you nervous?” I ask.

  “Are you?” she shoots back.

  “Completely,” I confess, lying down on my bed and staring up at my star system.

  “You’ll be great.”

  “We’ll be great.” Her confidence feels so good, it’s contagious.

  “Maybe you’ll fall for a handsome dinosaur trainer on the island,” Regina says.

  “Who needs boys when you have a Brachiosaurus?”

  Regina laughs so hard she snorts. “Okay, I just found my gate and I really need to pee before my flight, so I’m going to go. International calls will cost a fortune, so email me instead, okay?”

  “Got it. Have a good flight.”

  “Give the dinosaurs a kiss for me!” Regina says with absolutely no trace of irony, which makes me shake my head and laugh as I hang up.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and Karen peeks her head in. Earhart trails after her as she enters. “Hey,” she says.

  “I thought you were picking up Zach after dinner,” I say, looking at the clock on my wall. It’s only noon.

  “My final meeting of the day canceled, so I thought I’d come by.”

  “Mom took Zach to the library.”

  “So I saw.” Karen nudges me, and I scoot over so she can lie down next to me. Earhart looks hopefully at us with her one eye, like she expects me to let her up on the bed.

  “You know you’re not allowed!” I tell her, and she tilts her head, like she’s hoping I’ll change my mind. I pat her on the head instead, which seems to content her. She finally lies down on the floor, resting her chin on her paws.

  “Mom told me you accepted Bright Minds,” Karen says. “You’ll be leaving in just a few days?”

  I press my lips together so tight I’m afraid they’ll just disappear into my face.

  My sister sighs. “You know she’s proud of you. She’s just…a worrier.”

  “I need to do this,” I say, unable to look at her when I say it, my eyes fixed on the arc and twists of stars across the ceiling. “I need to go there. I just…I have this feeling.”

  My cheeks flush at going so metaphysical on her. It’s not like me. But it’s the truth.

  Discovering that dinosaurs existed was pretty much the event of my childhood. It was for everyone. There was so much mystery around their existence for the first few years, and then Dr. Hammond’s death added even more questions.

  Even Mr. Masrani’s announcement of his plans to open a park had been shrouded in mystery. The man had a flair for drama. It started when packages containing amber-handled archaeological tools—the kind that paleontologists use to dig up bones—began arriving. At first, it was journalists, social media influencers, actors, pop stars, the leading professors and minds of the world. Then, as the buzz began to start, the tools began arriving at random people’s doorsteps across the world. Everyone starting talking about it because it was so weird—and the selection of people who got the tools was so broad and varied. The tools came with no note, just a simple card that had the profile of a T. rex skeleton stamped upon it.

  Two more packages arrived for the lucky recipients over the next few weeks. It became this status thing to post about them. Everyone was trying to trace the company that sent them, but no one could figure it out. The second package contained a compass; carved on the back was that same T. rex stamp.

  When the third and final package arrived, it caused a sensation. Each person’s box had three clues—a jagged tooth, a curled piece of parchment with the sketch of a gate in spidery ink, and an old-fashioned-looking key, one clearly not made to unlock anything. The speculation this caused throughout the world was unparalleled. What did these objects mean? Di
d they relate to each other? Was this just some elaborate prank?

  The first person to discover how to activate the boxes was a farmer’s son in Bolivia. After he disassembled the wooden box the trinkets were sent in, he noticed a strange indentation in the top of the lid and placed his key inside. Once he posted his discovery on YouTube, people across the globe were inserting their key in the notch, activating a hidden hologram chip embedded in the key’s handle. This beamed a message. Two silver words. One date.

  They’re coming.

  May 30, 2005

  By the time Mr. Masrani held his press conference the next day, the entire world was buzzing about the possibility of a new park and a chance to get close to the dinosaurs. Both of the islands had been restricted for so long, it was the only thing anyone could talk about. It’s one of those things you compare notes on with other people: Where were you when Masrani announced Jurassic World?

  Ever since Mr. Masrani announced he was going to develop and protect Isla Nublar and bring Dr. Hammond’s research full circle, I’ve felt drawn to it. To the work, to the island, to the innovation and refuge this next step presented. Isla Nublar is a sanctuary. A place where science makes miracles happen.

  But it’s not just that.

  I think…

  I think it’s the fact that it’s an island of outsiders. Occupied by people who push dreams to the very edge of human limits and animals that should not exist but do.

  Sometimes I feel that way. Like my shoulders are rubbed raw from people’s expectations. Like I should not be, but I am. I persist, even if they don’t like it.

  Just like the dinosaurs.

  If I tell Karen that I feel a kinship to dinosaurs, of all things, she’s going to…well, I don’t even know.

  “I’m not surprised you want to do this,” Karen says, saving me from my struggle to articulate. “You spent, like, a year chasing me around the backyard pretending to be a T. rex when the news came out.”

  “I was a little kid!” But I laugh when I see the warm smile on her face. I knock my shoulder into hers gently.

  “I told Mom I was going to take you to lunch and shopping,” Karen says. “So let’s go do that.”

  I make a face. “Do I have to go shopping?”

  “Look, it’ll get you out of the house. And the internship people must’ve sent you a list of things you need, right?”

  She was right. The packet had a list. I would need about a gallon of sunscreen. I definitely wouldn’t be able to fit that in my carry-on.

  “Okay, fine.” I stand up and grab the list out of the envelope on my desk. “But no window-shopping.”

  Karen rolls her eyes, sliding off my bed and heading toward the door. “That’s half the fun.”

  “You take forever,” I complain. “Come on, Earhart.” I snap my fingers and she follows us as we make our way downstairs. I leave her in the living room with her basket of toys and special memory-foam dog bed that Dad bought her.

  I finally get a good look at the list after we get into Karen’s car and get on the highway. It’s pretty detailed, organized in neat columns. There’s even a list of shots I need to get.

  “Do you really need to get new shots and immunizations?” Karen asks, glancing over at it. “I guess we wouldn’t want you to get dinosaur flu.”

  “There is no dinosaur flu,” I scoff.

  “Well, what if you get bit by a mosquito and catch scurvy?”

  “You mean malaria,” I correct her. “Scurvy is what the sailors got because their diets were low in vitamin C. And yes, I’m going to need to get some new shots.” I shrug, trying not to think about it because I hate needles.

  Karen clucks her tongue like a mother hen. “You’ll do great. Just don’t look at the needle when they do it. That’s what I told Zach when he needed to get his shots.”

  I shake my head. That makes it even worse. I have to look. Exert some kind of control over the process. Even though it always makes my stomach swoop in the most horrible way. “It’ll be fine,” I say.

  “What else do you need to get?” Karen nods toward the list as she switches lanes, getting ready to take the exit for the mall.

  “Basic stuff. Water bottles, bug spray, work gloves. And I should get some cargo shorts.”

  Karen shudders, her fashion sense obviously offended.

  “It’s not my fault every clothing designer in the world decided to stop putting pockets in dresses,” I say. “And I can’t even fit my hand in half of the pockets of the jeans they make for us.”

  “Okay, I agree with you there,” Karen says as she takes the exit. “Pocket space is abysmal. Though I don’t think tromping around the dinosaur pens or fields or whatever they are in a dress is the best idea. What if you trip and moon the dinosaurs?”

  The mental image is so absurd and embarrassing that the laughter just bursts out of me. “I’ll have to add new underwear to my list of things to buy,” I say between giggles, and that sets her off, and by the time we pull into the mall parking lot, my eyes are wet, and Karen’s cheeks are bright red from snickering.

  “Where to first?” I ask my sister, because I have no delusions: This is one of Karen’s domains. She’s in charge here.

  “Sephora,” she says. “Then we’ll get your…” She lets out a long sigh. “Cargo shorts.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll get them in blue or purple or something instead of khaki,” I say.

  “Touching,” Karen says, quirking her mouth. “Come on.”

  * * *

  Sephora is vaguely terrifying. The lighting is so good, and the women working the counters and floating around wear supersharp eyeliner, and it’s all kind of intimidating. Karen walks down the aisles with purpose. She knows exactly what she wants. She looks the way I feel walking into a classroom, ready for an exam. But here…

  That outsider feeling grows.

  “I think you need a new lipstick,” Karen says, looking up at me from the line of colorful tubes, her glance assessing.

  “I don’t need lipstick. I’m probably going to be down in a lab or walking around in the sun all summer.”

  “Hmmm.” Karen purses her lips. “You’re right. You need a lipstick and a moisturizing lip balm with a high SPF. And something for your hair, because it’s going to freak out in all that humidity. Ooh, and a good facial spray too.”

  “Just make sure it’s cruelty free,” I say, before I kind of tune her out for a second, because when Karen gets started on beauty stuff, she’ll go on for a long time. There’s a red lipstick at the very end of the row where she’s standing. It draws my eye, the bright pop of color like a crooked finger, beckoning me.

  Regina was always trying to get me to wear bright lipstick. I have half a dozen glosses and lipsticks in the same shade of muted pink, and she’d paw through my stuff as we got ready to go out and say, Dearing, you need to embrace the bold sometimes.

  “That’d look good on you,” Karen says, catching me picking up the lipstick.

  “It’ll clash with my hair.”

  “The right red won’t,” Karen says, plucking it out of my hands before I can put it back and adding it to the little basket looped around her wrist. “Now let’s go find the sunscreen.”

  * * *

  By the time we get across the mall to the sporting goods store, Karen’s got three bags full of stuff and the eternal devotion of one of the Sephora clerks because she agreed to call in a favor for her to the most popular stylist in town. My sister is one of those people who seems to just know everyone. And they all seem to owe her a favor. It’s kind of like she’s queen of the moms.

  At the sporting goods store I load up on extra-strength bug spray and get a set of those snap-and-shake glow tubes. They’re not on my list, but the Girl Scout in me is sifting through all the information I picked up in my troop—and what Dad taught me when
we went camping. Isla Nublar’s terrain and geography will be different from anything I’ve ever experienced—maybe from anything anyone’s ever experienced. How many different habitats did Masrani build—or is he still building—on the island? I can’t wait to find out.

  “I think you should get some of that,” Karen says, looking up from her phone to point at the row of bear repellent cans on the shelf next to the bug spray.

  “Because there’s no dinosaur repellent?”

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  “You and Mom both have a totally wrong idea of what’s going to be going on during my internship.” I shake my head, grabbing the smallest can of bear spray to appease her. “I’m not going to be running wild with the dinosaurs. I’ll be getting coffee and taking notes and probably transcribing really boring dictation about the calorie content of the Brachiosauruses’ lunch.”

  “But a part of you absolutely wants to run wild with the dinosaurs, admit it,” Karen says.

  “That would require having a death wish,” I say primly, sidestepping the question and walking down the aisle. There’s a glass case in front of us, a selection of pocketknives gleaming in black velvet boxes.

  “Ooh, this one has a pearl handle,” Karen says. “Could we look at this one?” she asks the guy behind the counter.

  “Karen, I don’t need a knife,” I say, but I have to admit, it’s pretty. “I couldn’t take it in my carry-on.”

  “You’re bringing more than your carry-on,” Karen says. “See if the weight of it feels good.”

  I take the knife and flip it open. The handle is smooth and cool against my skin, the blade shining and sharp.

  Mom gave each of us a Swiss Army knife when we left home. Mine even has a little pen in it. I always carry it with me, but it’s the tiniest version. The small blade is useful in a pinch, but it isn’t a weapon.

  This knife is something that could hack through vines and branches, shave bark off trees finely enough for fire starters, and cut through rope like butter. Useful. Practical.