Or maybe you’re dreaming, doped up in a psych ward, while doctors write stuff in your chart like, “Unresponsive to reality,” “Becomes agitated when the sedatives wear off.” Oddly, that possibility made it easier to move forward, like doing a high-wire act without a net, certain only that you wouldn’t get hurt if you fell.
Reassured, I showered and dressed, then put together an impressive package of false documentation using my laptop, the Internet, Photoshop, and my excellent printer. I felt slightly guilty because my parents wouldn’t look too hard at these documents. Why? They trusted me. But this part of the plan hinged on a strong sales pitch, and I had to prove I’d earned a scholarship to the university summer science program.
Just before I left my room, I shrugged into a hoodie to hide my wrists, though the day was warm enough for air-conditioning, if we’d had it. Since it was past noon, my parents were home. Soon, the conference circuit would begin, where they presented research to their colleagues. Once I turned twelve, I’d traveled with them because they didn’t mind leaving me in a hotel room while they did their thing, but when I was younger, I stayed with Great-Aunt Edith, who called me her namesake and made me walk her Pomeranian.
“Hello, Edith.” Dad looked up from his paper with an absent smile, peering at me down the rims of his spectacles. He’d missed part of his jaw in shaving, so it prickled with graying whiskers. That sort of thing was common.
My mother made a noise to acknowledge my existence, but she didn’t look up from scratching on a yellow legal pad. Bowls of half-eaten gruel congealed in the middle of the table, even though they’d presumably gotten home late enough to eat lunch instead, one of my mom’s quirks. She worshiped at the altar of steel-cut oats.
Showtime. I set my papers on the table and pulled out a chair. By joining them, I did something odd and worthy of a pause.
My mother looked up. “Yes?”
You’ve got one shot. Make it good.
“I wasn’t sure if it would come through, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up … but I’ve been accepted to the Summer Science Program. Full scholarship.”
Quickly I summarized the benefits of academic focus, college credits, and keeping my brain occupied during the summer. My parents seemed to think if I didn’t use it for those two months, the thing would liquefy and run out my ears. Doubtless they had assumed I’d trail them around all summer, as had become the custom. But since they never paid weren’t paying for another room, maybe they would be glad to have some privacy.
Ew.
My father gave me a questioning look. “You didn’t tell us you applied.”
“It’s pretty competitive. I was afraid you’d be disappointed if I didn’t get in “
“But you did … and with a full scholarship. Congratulations, darling.” Mom leaned toward me and almost hugged me. But she drew up short and offered an awkward pat on the shoulder instead.
“When does it start?” Dad asked.
“In a few days. I know it’s short notice, but—”
“Actually, we had been concerned about how much you’d be alone this summer, even traveling with us. You can only sit through so many symposiums,” Dad said.
Mom added, “We’d toyed with the idea of letting you stay home and apply for a job somewhere, but we won’t be in Boston much for the next couple of months.”
“I wasn’t keen on it,” Dad admitted.
“You don’t trust me?” I pretended to be hurt.
“It’s other people I don’t trust.” His tone was pure cranky.
“So I can go?”
They exchanged a look, beaming information brain to brain and coming to consensus like the Borg.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s a tremendous opportunity, and we’re proud of your initiative.”
“Thanks.” His praise made me twitch because, of course, I hadn’t aimed for better, brighter things. I’d given up. Let the ass**les win. The idea lodged in my head; that was so not okay. No matter what, I should’ve kept fighting. I should never have gone to an emotional place where I felt like the bridge offered my best hope.
Never again, I promised myself.
Already, I was better. Stronger. With a goal in sight, I could stand anything.
“Given our conference schedule, this is the best possible outcome for all of us. I’m excited for you. Do we need to book your tickets?” Mom asked.
“No, it’s all set. Part of the full ride.”
She beamed. “You must have really impressed them.”
Well, I impressed somebody. Too bad I knew next to nothing about the people Kian worked for, but he seemed to have come out unscathed. I’d take that as my silver lining.
Dad reached over to pat my hand. “It’s no secret you’ve been unhappy at school, and I’m relieved to see you planning for the future. You won’t always be surrounded by cretins and knuckle-draggers.”
Wow. A small spark of shame went through me. I hadn’t realized they noticed my misery. But then, I stayed in my room, mostly. My parents were as weird as I was, and I couldn’t take comfort in their company.
Mom nodded. “For people like us, college is the next frontier. This is great, not only for the academics, but this summer, you’ll get a glimpse of what the future holds. It’s so much better than high school.”
More guilt, because I intended to abandon their nerd phylum as soon as possible. For the best reasons, I told myself. To give the beautiful people a taste of their own medicine. I’d get inside enemy lines, then break them down one by one.
“Great job winning over the selection committee,” Dad said. “This will look great on college applications in the fall.”
He has no idea how apt that is.
I smiled at my parents. “I know. I’m excited they chose me.”
SO SVENGALI
The morning I left, my parents tried to see me off. Dad smiled at me, obviously pleased with what he was about to suggest. “We’ll go together on the train, have breakfast at the airport, and then we’ll say good-bye at security.”
Damn. This was a problem I hadn’t predicted. “That’ll take an hour each way. Don’t you guys have to prepare your papers for presentation, pack, and whatever else?”
My mom frowned. “It seems wrong to pat your head and say ‘good luck.’ What if you run into trouble on the way?”
Seriously?
“I’ll be fine, two trains and a shuttle bus.” Fortunately, I looked up the route as part of my cover story. “And I don’t have much to carry.”