I
was the new girl at Edgemont high and I was going to die. Of
embarrassment; I was timing it. Any second, now, someone was going to
stop gaping and start with the names. I'd heard them all: Twiggy,
Woody, The Tree, Plywood Face, Pinocchio. There were boat-loads more,
but I couldn't bring myself to dredge them up out of the basement of
my soul.
I
tried to keep my shoes from squeaking as I followed my dad, Lysander,
into the office and sat down to wait while they decided my fate. I
didn't need the extra attention. I generated that
all by myself. The frozen glances of the other students hanging
around waiting for hall passes were why I'd always been
home-schooled. I checked them out as they stared at me, unblinking,
insatiably curious.
I
wanted to tell the blond cheerleader she'd better shut her mouth or
she'd drop her gum. Still, it would be so entertaining watching her
try to get bubblegum off her skimpy uniform skirt. I saw her
confusion as she tried to catalog me. If I'd had hair instead of
twigs, and skin as soft and pink as hers was, she might have decided
I could breathe her oxygen. I saw the exact moment when she dumped me
into the “freak” box. She took out her phone and began to text.
She was still texting when the receptionist handed her a hall pass.
Cheerleader girl texted clear out the door and was probably still at
it when she got to class.
The
receptionist was greenish as she smiled at me, pretending she was a
better woman than she is. Her type was everywhere I looked. I was
sure she'd splash me all over her social media sites. She was
probably trying to figure out a way to sneak a picture with her
phone.
Then
I saw the Imagine Dragons CD on her desk and I couldn't keep her in
my Superfluous Adults drawer anymore. She was an ally. I smiled at
her, feeling just a bit sad that she was stuck in a job like this,
ferrying disgruntled young people across the River Styx and into the
Underworld of Edgemont High. Maybe someday she'd earn a reprieve.
Until then, I would save a smile for her every day—one bright spot
in the flood of grumbling lost souls.
The
other students woke up from their staring stupor and trickled away in
ones and twos, like missionaries off to spread the word. “There's a
whole new kind of freak at Edgemont School for the Terminally Dorky,”
They'd say. And they were right. I couldn't get freakier if you
painted me pink and tied toy poodles in my twigs.
I
could hear Lysander arguing through the closed door, which read,
“Principal Capoletti”. No clue why my dad didn't just take me in
there with him. It's not like he was sparing my feelings, what with
all the shouting. I knew he'd win the debate. My dad's in a whole
other world of brilliant. He'd have been cool chilling with Einstein.
He'd had to take precious research time off to battle for me against
unfeeling, narrow-minded creeps, people who would have stuck me in a
lab, and paparazzi who were in it for the big bucks. It was
completely amazing to me that they'd never managed to get my picture
into the tabloids.
Now
with mom gone, Lysander Mason, the famous bioengineer, had even less
time to be my knight-in-shining-armor. I could hear the impatience in
his voice as he tore Mr. Capoletti into tiny shreds. I sunk down in
my seat, annoyed that I was again the the cause for Dad's unwanted
break from the research, which was his oxygen and his cake. At least
he only needed to come down once to admit me to school.
I
snickered to myself, remembering mom's insistence that I stay home,
where I could grow into a nice tall tree in peace. The joke might
have been on her, but I was going to reap the rewards. I felt like a
baby eagle being shoved out of the nest and forced to fly. A wooden
eagle. That would be something to watch. Step right up. Get your geek
tickets here.
I
debated whether to just wander in or hunker down and take a nap.
Sleep would have been nice, since I knew today was going to take
everything I had to survive sane. But somehow I knew that if I let
myself actually lose my iron grip on the situation, I'd wake up with
my twigs on fire or some loser would carve his name in my leg.
I
turned around and watched the blurry image of the principal gesturing
wildly through the window. It sounded like he thought I was some kind
of wooden android. Like Lysander would ever make something he'd
endowed with AI, out of something so perishable as wood. My snort
brought the receptionist's equally wooden face up from her texting.
“Can
I help you?” she asked. I was amazed she thought I was human enough
to ask. Maybe it was a test.
“Not
likely,” I mumbled, hoping she wouldn't press me to speak up.
She
pressed.
I
bent over and rubbed at my forehead. I tend to get rugged bark there.
It's always a struggle keeping it polished smooth. One good thing
about having a wooden face was the lack of expression when I wanted
to lie. Otherwise it rotted. I could barely smile or move my
eyebrows. I was constantly having to massage the cellulose on my face
to get it to be more supple.
I
lied now. “I was saying I sure hope my dad can get me into this
school.”
She
gave me that green smile that said she hoped something totally
different. “I'm sure we can work it out. What grade are you in?”
“I've
been home-schooled, so I don't know. I'm almost sixteen. I'm actually
at college junior level, but Dad won't let me up there until I can
handle being in high school.”
I
could see the cogs cranking creakily in her head. She was thinking
“Android.”
I
debated whether to set her straight. It gets tiring always having to
explain myself. Maybe I could sneak over to the P.A. System and just
toss all the beans on the table at once.
Just
as I'd decided to do it, Dad won his debate and the two men came out
into the office. Lysander went straight to the counter to deal with
paperwork, brandishing my birth certificate like a baseball bat. The
principal disappeared back into his cave with a nod to the
receptionist.
Dad
glanced back at me and there was a triumphant light in his
eyes—something he always got when he prevailed against lesser
mortals. “I am going to watch you copy that. I need it back for
every time I have to prove my daughter is human.”
I
silently begged my dad to let her live. He could flay an unsuspecting
person's skin off with just a couple of words. Since Mom died, he did
it all the time, and we were losing colleagues. Friends had gone the
way of the dodo long before.
The
secretary copied the necessary papers, frowning at the immunization
report. I could see Dad gearing up, like we were coming to the edge
of the eye of the hurricane. The secretary looked up and was going to
say something but decided, it seems, she liked life too much. She
handed everything back and gave me a packet. “Take that down to
Mrs. Mendoza's office two doors on your right. She'll help you get
started. And here's a hall pass for you. Welcome to our school,
Karyatis....”
“That's
Karry. I won't answer if you call me Karyatis,” I said before she
could label me forever with the name I detested. What had they been
thinking, those brilliant two who had spawned me? You'd think that
being wooden would be enough of a pain-in-the-rear. Why had they
thought it would be so funny to name me after a column at the Greek
Acropolis?
“Well
then, Karry. Would you like me to make a note of this for your
teachers?”
“Please.”
I hoped she'd play nice. Otherwise it would be open season on her
car. Except that she liked Imagine Dragons. I think I'd always think
of her as Charon in my mind. Charon, the ferry-woman.
“I
must go.” Lysander said stiffly. He gave me a pat on my arm, and
left. He'd never been one for displays of affection, even with mom,
who wasn't a tree. I stood for a second, bracing myself for the
gauntlet of stunned faces. Too bad my wooden skin wasn't strong
enough to keep out the verbal barbs. Those would sink deep inside and
fester.
