show, Star Trek . That’s where I got the ideas. Did he say something bad about me?”
By the end of my mini-tirade, my voice has degenerated into an irritating whine. I am sickened at the empty-headed sound of it, but know that I have no choice. Hopefully, Mrs Taylor will believe me, but the truth is I have no idea about Star Trek other than a couple reruns I’d seen at a motel in Philadelphia, which I’d thought hilarious. I can only hope that my impersonation of a vacuous valley girl will work.
“Which episode?” she asks without batting an eye.
“I think it was called ‘Gravity,’ it was about some kind of gravitational distortion.” Mrs Taylor’s eyes are relentless but I force myself to look as clueless as possible. My relief is palpable when I sense rather than see her shoulders relax and her body tilts away from me.
“Sometimes the writers of those television shows deserve more credit than they’re given,” she says after a long moment.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “Most of the time I have help… even at the other schools. People tend to feel sorry for me. Boys, in particular.” Something tells me I’m pushing it, but I can’t seem to stop the excessive overcompensation for my slip with Philip, even though I’m obviously in the clear.
The thoughtfulness in Mrs Taylor’s eyes wanes to actual distaste, and I squirm in my seat. In a different world, I’m sure she and I could have had a scintillating conversation about sub-quantum theory and gravitational distortion.
It is the reason I am even able to come here, after all.
I stare at the floor chewing on my lip until Mrs Taylor says briskly, “Well, thanks for clearing that up. Star Trek aside, I will expect you to perform better on the next quiz. And try to take on your share of the work, will you, Riven?”
I’m almost home free, but for some reason, I stop at the door. Even though it shouldn’t matter, it bothers me that she thinks I’m some sort of vapid idiot who would use others to get ahead. Failing is just not a part of who I am.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time. I just want you to know that this isn’t who I am. I pull my own weight and I don’t cheat.”
Aware that I’m babbling for no reason, I’m already out the door, so I nearly miss the speculative glance she sends in my direction, but I’ve had enough interrogation for one day. Mrs Taylor will be no more than a distant memory in a few days. Maybe as a goodbye present, I’ll leave her a paper on sub-quantum string theory and its practical application to move between universes. Then again, altering the course of history is a big no-no, as in strictly – we’re talking punishable by imprisonment – forbidden.
Outside, the day has waned to a cool, clear evening. I check my watch. Caden’s meet will be in full swing… and full of more people. I have the biggest urge to race back to my motel room and lay on the bed in the dark for a while where it’s quiet and I am alone, and where I can think. Instead, I sit on a nearby bench and close my eyes just for a moment.
All of this interaction is tiresome. Remembering what to say and what not to say takes a huge toll after a while, and I’m mentally exhausted, especially after the confrontation with Mrs Taylor. Before, I’d shift in and out, looking for Caden and then move on. Now that I’ve found him, coupled with my hindrance of an injury, I’ve had more interaction with these people than I’d ever intended. And it’s literally draining.
Plus, too much contact means bad things could happen. It means that my presence could unknowingly set something into motion… a disturbance in the natural course of events. It means that other people – not just the Vectors – could find me, but also the Guardians, who monitor such disturbances.
I’ve never met a Guardian, but Cale’s father told me that they were there to make sure that people on both sides stayed where they were supposed to be. For
By the end of my mini-tirade, my voice has degenerated into an irritating whine. I am sickened at the empty-headed sound of it, but know that I have no choice. Hopefully, Mrs Taylor will believe me, but the truth is I have no idea about Star Trek other than a couple reruns I’d seen at a motel in Philadelphia, which I’d thought hilarious. I can only hope that my impersonation of a vacuous valley girl will work.
“Which episode?” she asks without batting an eye.
“I think it was called ‘Gravity,’ it was about some kind of gravitational distortion.” Mrs Taylor’s eyes are relentless but I force myself to look as clueless as possible. My relief is palpable when I sense rather than see her shoulders relax and her body tilts away from me.
“Sometimes the writers of those television shows deserve more credit than they’re given,” she says after a long moment.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “Most of the time I have help… even at the other schools. People tend to feel sorry for me. Boys, in particular.” Something tells me I’m pushing it, but I can’t seem to stop the excessive overcompensation for my slip with Philip, even though I’m obviously in the clear.
The thoughtfulness in Mrs Taylor’s eyes wanes to actual distaste, and I squirm in my seat. In a different world, I’m sure she and I could have had a scintillating conversation about sub-quantum theory and gravitational distortion.
It is the reason I am even able to come here, after all.
I stare at the floor chewing on my lip until Mrs Taylor says briskly, “Well, thanks for clearing that up. Star Trek aside, I will expect you to perform better on the next quiz. And try to take on your share of the work, will you, Riven?”
I’m almost home free, but for some reason, I stop at the door. Even though it shouldn’t matter, it bothers me that she thinks I’m some sort of vapid idiot who would use others to get ahead. Failing is just not a part of who I am.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time. I just want you to know that this isn’t who I am. I pull my own weight and I don’t cheat.”
Aware that I’m babbling for no reason, I’m already out the door, so I nearly miss the speculative glance she sends in my direction, but I’ve had enough interrogation for one day. Mrs Taylor will be no more than a distant memory in a few days. Maybe as a goodbye present, I’ll leave her a paper on sub-quantum string theory and its practical application to move between universes. Then again, altering the course of history is a big no-no, as in strictly – we’re talking punishable by imprisonment – forbidden.
Outside, the day has waned to a cool, clear evening. I check my watch. Caden’s meet will be in full swing… and full of more people. I have the biggest urge to race back to my motel room and lay on the bed in the dark for a while where it’s quiet and I am alone, and where I can think. Instead, I sit on a nearby bench and close my eyes just for a moment.
All of this interaction is tiresome. Remembering what to say and what not to say takes a huge toll after a while, and I’m mentally exhausted, especially after the confrontation with Mrs Taylor. Before, I’d shift in and out, looking for Caden and then move on. Now that I’ve found him, coupled with my hindrance of an injury, I’ve had more interaction with these people than I’d ever intended. And it’s literally draining.
Plus, too much contact means bad things could happen. It means that my presence could unknowingly set something into motion… a disturbance in the natural course of events. It means that other people – not just the Vectors – could find me, but also the Guardians, who monitor such disturbances.
I’ve never met a Guardian, but Cale’s father told me that they were there to make sure that people on both sides stayed where they were supposed to be. For
Similar Books
