Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,17
meet Dad’s eyes and he has his “serious face” on, which I don’t see very often. I sit up straight in my chair.
“Maybe I am,” I say, not wanting to admit that yes, Tucker is absolutely the reason for this conversation. “Scientists need to be objective about their work and honest with themselves about the validity and success of their hypotheses. But maybe I need to be devoid of emotion to be good at what I do. Maybe to excel you need to be callused so your emotions don’t get confused with the results.”
Dad squeezes my hand. He doesn’t touch me that often or hug me too much so I don’t move away.
“I wish your gran was here.” He takes a deep breath. “Listen to me; you are loving and smart. And being smart tends to mean you stand on the outside, observing.”
“Like watching the world?”
“Maybe.”
I groan. This is not what I want to hear.
“You’re just different than most kids your age. You have more important things on your mind than boys and clothes.”
“Yeah . . . ,” I say, but the last part is untrue. I do care about boys and clothes. Just not to the same extent as my sister.
“Gerard!” Nancy calls.
“I don’t want science to be all of who I am,” I say quietly. “I want to be more like Scarlett sometimes,” I add, but I don’t think Dad hears because Nancy squawks again:
“Gerard!”
I want to be able to care about clothes and boys, but be good at science, too. I want to be both.
“You’ll find your essay,” Dad says, and his hand lifts from mine. He winks at me before getting up to cater to Nancy.
I grab my application checklist. Loneliness blows. Scarlett wasn’t alone last night. You need a backbone or everyone is going to walk all over you. Easy for her to say.
I head upstairs but stop at the second floor when Scarlett laughs from her bedroom. I stop outside the door and listen, making sure to hold on to the collection of application papers tightly so they don’t rustle and give me away. The door is cracked just a little. She is doing her morning stretches, which means she is going to practice soon. She is doing a wall stretch. Her leg is lifted and flushed against the wall. She brings her head to her knees and leans into it. How she can do this and balance a cell phone at the same time is some kind of a rare talent.
“Curtis kissed me last night,” she says. “God! He is ridiculously hot.”
She laughs and changes legs so the left leg is now pressed against the wall.
“He has a scar on his collarbone.” She hesitates. “And I licked it.”
I can hear Trish’s cackle through the phone. Trish Jackson. Tucker’s sister. I don’t want to listen anymore. I head up to my room. I can stand outside Scarlett’s door watching and follow her around Main Street, but it’s not going to solve the problem. I’m a scientist. Tucker is right. Scarlett is right too. I watch the world so I can understand it.
Yes, it’s true that I don’t know how to just casually be in conversation with a guy without blowing it. It’s not like I can just wake up confident like Scarlett.
Wait . . . I hesitate on a stair.
Why can’t I use what I know about science and Scarlett to change my life?
Observation is reductive. I’ve had fifteen years to research my sister. If I pretend I am like Scarlett, dress like her, talk like her, and behave like her, I will live the life I’ve always wanted. I’ll have friends and a boyfriend who is nothing like Tucker. It’s a set of very specific parameters to follow. It’s genius!
I won’t ever be humiliated again.
I hesitate again in the middle of the stairwell.
First step before you conduct an experiment? Formulate a question.
Okay. Will I ever have fun, be comfortable, and look mildly normal, maybe even hot like Scarlett? Scarlett never has problems with guys or with what she wears.
I move up the stairs toward my room but stop again.
Step two? Do field research. Observe.
Okay fine. I’ve been doing that for as long as I can remember.
Once I get to my room, I stand above my suitcase with my hands on my hips.
Step three: formulate a hypothesis. If I wear Scarlett’s clothes and behave like Scarlett I will:
1. Attract attention that does not involve complete and total humiliation.