his fingernails black. I thought he looked really beautiful in a dark, androgynous way. My guess was that he had adopted a rebellious stance to cover up his deep-seated feelings of alienation. At least that’s what Evie would say, psychoanalysis being one of her many hobbies.
Abby believed in allowing him to express himself freely, but she confided in me that she thought his style made the teasing at school worse. It pained her to see him unhappy, and she wished he would try and fit in a little bit more. Still, she was proud of his obvious talent as a designer, and often pointed out that once you made it through high school, life became easier.
I had taken a different approach, and did my level best to blend in. Evie always dressed me much more extravagantly than most kids my age, but today I really didn’t want to stand out. I went through my wardrobe and tried to pick out the standard teen costume from all the high fashion pieces. I settled on jeans, the simplest, least embellished tee-shirt I could find, and ballet flats. I didn’t have a backpack, but I picked out a roomy tote for my books and school supplies. I thought I did alright, given what I had to work with.
When we got to school Cruz walked me over to the office to meet with a counselor for orientation. I was new, and I had already missed a full week. Off to a great start, I thought bitterly. Aptos High wasn’t a very big school, and rumors of my supposed flying leap off the end of the pier had trickled throughout the entire student body. I could feel curious eyes on me from all sides. I held my head high, channeling my inner Evie, and pretended not to notice.
“See you in class,” said Cruz as he dropped me off.
“You must be Marina Vanderpool,” said a woman behind the desk. “Mrs. Owens is expecting you, second door on the right.”
When I entered her office Mrs. Owens peered up at me from behind thick, round glasses.
“Well, well,” she said, studying me critically, “have a seat.” She reminded me of a goldfish in a bowl, the kind with the popped-out eyes. “You certainly don’t look at all like your cousin.” I didn’t like her tone.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, extending my hand with excessive formality.
She shook it perfunctorily and went on, “Reviewing your transcripts, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting up to speed. On the contrary,” she said, raking me over with a gimlet eye, “Your studies seem to be quite advanced.”
“I was hoping to have the same schedule as Cruz,” I said, “I have no experience attending a daily school and I wanted the transition to be–”
“Cruz,” she said unpleasantly, “is not someone you want to emulate.”
“Really? In what way?” I asked, challenging her.
She smiled condescendingly, “Why, his poor grades, of course. But I don’t think that will be a problem here, given the high caliber of your prior schooling.” I had expected this, for the private tutors I’d studied with had put me beyond American high school level in most areas. Traveling with my father was an education in itself, and I’d read so many of the classics that there wasn’t one book on the text syllabus that I didn’t already know.
But I really wasn’t here to be educated, at least not academically– my father had made that clear.
We both knew I’d be phoning it in curriculum-wise, but ultimately I was supposed to have a so-called “normal” high school social experience. I’d always blindly obeyed my father, trusting that he had my best interests at heart. But now I’d come to the realization that there were things about him I didn’t know, he could be terribly wrong, and I suspected that he was seriously misguided in sending me here.
I wished I had a license and a car so I could just get in and drive away. High school wasn’t looking too appealing so far.
I smiled sweetly at the beady-eyed old bat.
“I’d really feel most comfortable in the same classes with my cousin. Perhaps you’d like to speak to my father...”
That did it. She knew my father held an endowed chair on the faculty of one of most prestigious universities in the nation. Among the educator class that was pulling rank.
“Have it your way,” she said with an ugly twist to her mouth. I was handed a stack of books, assigned a locker and given