Genesis Girl (Blank Slate #1) - Jennifer Bardsley Page 0,54

that I’ll do anything to help her.

That’s why I go get Cal.

That’s why I screw everything up.

He’s holding his toothbrush when he opens the door. I’ve never been in Cal’s rooms before, and I don’t care to be there now. It feels wrong to invade his privacy.

I smell the fresh paint covering the newly installed lead walls. Ms. Lydia’s white traveling cloak is lying on the bed. I hear the shower running in the background.

“I need your help,” I whisper. I’ve never asked Cal for anything before.

He doesn’t even put down his toothbrush. He nods his head and follows.

When we get to my cloister my rooms are empty. “Fatima.” I knock on the open door. “We’re here.”

Fatima emerges from the corner, behind one of the drapes. She looks younger than usual, and scared.

“What’s going on?” Cal sets his toothbrush down on my desk.

“Fatima’s operation didn’t work,” I explain.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m pregnant,” says Fatima, coming to sit on my bed.

“I still don’t understand,” says Cal. “Are you talking about an abortion?”

“No!” Fatima cries, and her eyes go wild. “That’s what they’ll do to me if they find out.”

I feel awful. Fatima has already said too much. I sense the danger seep through the room like it’s Discipline Hour and Headmaster Russell is approaching my desk with the whip.

Cal speaks slowly, like he’s still trying to understand. “So what do you mean about the operation?”

But Fatima doesn’t say anything. She’s too afraid.

Cal looks at me directly. His face is more lined than I had ever realized. “Tell me, Blanca,” he says to me. “Tell me what you mean.”

“Vestals can’t get pregnant,” I say quickly. If I say it fast enough, maybe he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll know, like I know, that Barbelo knows what’s best. “It’s for our own good. That’s why they fix us when we turn fourteen.”

Cal stands there, taking it all in. Then he steps closer to me and cups my face in his hands. “That is horrible, Blanca. That is evil and wrong. Never for one second do I want you to believe that what they did to you is okay.”

All I can do is nod. I have to believe because Cal told me to, even though I know that he’s wrong and Barbelo’s right. Our founder is always right.

Cal releases me and walks over to Fatima, putting his hand on her shoulders. “I know someplace you can go. There’s someone I can call.” Cal grips his forehead. “But Lydia! We can’t let Lydia know about any of this. Go to my room, Blanca,” he says. “Go distract Lydia. Keep her there. Do whatever you have to do to keep her there as long as possible. Improvise! Be cunning! I know you can do it.” Then he enfolds me in a hug and kisses my cheek.

I am at the door, ready to leave, when Cal stops me.

“One more thing,” he says. “You are never, ever to tell Lydia about any of this. Do you understand?”

I nod, but I feel guilty. Chemistry lessons, dinner rolls, accidentally kissing Seth and liking it—there are so many things I’m keeping from Ms. Lydia at this point, I’ll just add Fatima and her unborn baby to the list.

“Calum, is that you, darling?” Ms. Lydia opens the door wearing a silk kimono, her face freshly done up. “Oh. Hello, Blanca.”

“Cal said to come ask you,” I say. “I asked him what I should do with my hair tonight, and he said to come and let you decide.”

Ms. Lydia sighs. “Your hair? Really, that does seem like a decision you could have made on your own.” But she steps back, inviting me into the rooms.

“I was thinking of cutting it.”

“Cutting it? Don’t be ridiculous. What would Trevor say?”

“Well that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.” I stand there immobile, trying not to observe my surroundings. The pictures of Seth as a young boy framed on the wall, the bronze Don Quixote statue standing sentential on the desk, the solar calculator that I fixed the other day, lying next to it; I’m learning too much already.

But Ms. Lydia doesn’t seem to mind the intrusion. Maybe this isn’t an Invasion after all. She pulls me into the dressing room and sits me down on a velvet bench. I see Cal’s shaving brush on the counter next to her perfume.

“Let’s talk about your hair first, shall we? That’s the simplest issue to solve.” Ms. Lydia brushes my hair. As she does, the old memory