Genesis Girl (8 page)

“I was improvising,” I repeat. “You told me to improvise. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry! You know I’d never disobey you on purpose. I’m not like that.”

Cal looks beyond frustrated.

“You should have realized that going off the estate was a bad idea.”

“But you said I needed to get Seth alone, and I did. You said hook him, and I did that too!”

“But at great risk to yourself.” Cal wrinkles his forehead.

“I made him like me,” I say. “You said to make Seth like me, and you said I could improvise.”

“You risked your safety! I would never ask you to put yourself in harm’s way. I don’t want you to merely improvise, either. I want you to make positive choices about your own welfare. You’ve got good instincts.”

I shake my head. Cal’s being ridiculous. “Good instincts? The one time I try to improvise it gets all messed up!”

“But it didn’t get messed up. Alan was able to find you in time. We still got the picture.” Cal adds sugar to his coffee.

“Just barely,” I say. “I made it hard for Alan, and I didn’t think about what you’d say or how worried you’d be.” The tears are coming now, my training at work.

Cal’s voice softens. “We still got the picture.”

“But I worried you. I made you upset!
I disobeyed
!”

“It’s okay. People make mistakes. No matter what Seth says about me, I’m not a monster.”

“Of course you aren’t. But I’ve been horrible. I probably ruined everything. Seth might never come back again!”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?” I ask.

Cal looks down at his wrist for a second. “Because Alan texted me. Seth is riding up the driveway right now.”

There’s barely enough time to settle this. I need Cal to know that I’m trustworthy. “Please, Cal. Please tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Cal squeezes my hand. Then he leans over and wipes a tear off my cheek. “No, Blanca. You tell me. What should you have done last night?”

“Stayed home?”

Cal considers this. “Maybe,” he says. “But what should you have done before you left the house? You tell me.”

I’m totally blank for a second, but then I figure out the answer Cal wants. “I should have left a note.”

“Exactly! If you go someplace, leave a note.”

“So what’s the plan now?” I ask. “Seth will be here any minute.”

“Do whatever it takes to keep him coming back.” Cal picks up his fork and digs into his scrambled eggs with gusto. “Keep him interested long enough that I finally get the chance to talk to him again. That’s all I want. A conversation with my son where he really listens.”

“Do whatever it takes.”
I can do that.

I won’t let Cal down again.

You’d never know Seth once lived here by the manner he stands in the doorway of the breakfast room, like he’s an armed intruder. The way Cal glares at him, he might as well be. It might be my imagination, but I think Cal just grabbed the butter knife. Seth holds his motorcycle helmet in front of him like it’s a shield.

“Can I talk to you, Blanca?” Seth speaks without crossing the threshold.

“Talk to her, yes. Take her somewhere, no,” Cal answers for me.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Seth says. “I was talking to Blanca.”

I look away and contemplate the wall. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Seth.” I stare at the wainscoting. It helps that I’ve been crying. “I’m not sure I can trust you.”

That’s what finally gets Seth to leave the doorway and venture inside.

“It wasn’t me. I promise! I didn’t take that picture. I didn’t pay somebody to take that picture. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

I turn back from the wall. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Because I’m not a liar!” Seth practically explodes. “Tell her,” Seth says, finally looking at his dad. “Tell Blanca I’m not a liar.”

“He’s not.” Cal pours a cup of coffee from a thermal carafe and offers it to his son. “Sit down and join us.”

Seth pulls up a chair to sit down, but he ignores the coffee and doesn’t bother looking at his father. “Blanca, please,” he says. “Spend the day with me. Give me a chance to explain.”

Cal puts down the coffee. “What exactly do you want to do with Blanca?”

“What do
you
want to do with her?” Seth’s chair scrapes across the floor with a
screech
.

“Nothing,” Cal protests. “I merely want her to have a home here, as my daughter.”

“Your daughter? Well then, I guess I should get to know your ‘daughter’ better.”

Cal takes a deep breath before he answers. “If Blanca wants to spend time with you, fine. But only if you stay here at the manor. And no pictures!”

“I would never.” Seth looks at me. “What do you say?”

I give the tiniest of nods. “Okay. I’ll give you one more chance.”

“Great. Nothing bad will happen; you’ll see.” Seth returns his glare toward Cal. “So what do you want me to do? Hang out with Blanca in my old room?”

“I don’t care where you go,” answers Cal, “so long as you stay right here.”

“Is my room still there? Or did you screw that up too?”

Cal shrugs. “It’s been five years. You can’t expect me to leave your room untouched all that time. You don’t live here anymore.”

Seth clenches his fist like he could crush something. “Come on, Blanca.” He pushes away from the table. “Let’s go.”

Before I follow Seth, I look at Cal. He has an expression I barely recognize. It’s empty but hopeful, all at the same time. He gives me a little wave as I follow Seth out the door.

Once his dad is out of sight, Seth strides around the manor like he does own the place—or at least used to be prince of the castle. He grabs my hand, and I have to race to keep up with him. We pass my cloister and keep going, all the way to the far end of the hall. Then we cross to another wing where I’ve rarely ventured.

Finally we come to a door flanked by two potted palm trees. Seth pauses for a few seconds before he tries the knob. When it swings inward, all we see is darkness.

But then Seth turns on the light, and we’re both in for a surprise.

“That bastard didn’t change anything!” Seth says, entering his old bedroom. He walks over to a chair by the window and pulls open the drapes. Light floods the room, illuminating every untouched bit.

What I notice first are the bookshelves full of old trophies: soccer statues, swimming medals, and framed certificates. There’re also a bunch of photos: framed pictures of Seth and his mom, Seth and his dad, and the whole McNeal family together. Something else catches my eye.

“You won a blogger award?” I ask Seth. “Last year?”

Seth comes over to look. “Yeah.” He runs his hand over his head, tugging at the dark hair. “The cheat must’ve framed the news release.”

“And look at this.” I point to the top of the desk. “Look at all of these clippings.” Paper printouts cover the surface, some of them yellowed with age. “Your dad must have been following your career.”

“My dad wouldn’t do that.” Seth shuffles through the papers. “Huh. This one was when
Veritas Rex
hit the millionth-visitor mark. That was a while ago.”

“Cal never gave up on you.” I touch Seth’s arm. “Maybe there’s more to your dad than you know.”

“No. There’s not.” Seth contemplates a picture of his mom for a long time. Then he walks away from me and crashes onto the bed.

I let him. Vestals know better than anyone when people need their space. Instead, I turn back to all the pictures of happier days. Seth looked so much like Sophia, except when he was little and had enormous teeth. She was exquisite. I can tell by the pictures how much she loved him.

Then, for some reason, I can’t look anymore. There’s something inside me that’s sharp and hurting.

Seth’s room is painted cardinal red. There’re baseball pennants pinned to the walls, a guitar in the corner, and a model airplane hanging from a wire in the ceiling. I pull out the wooden desk chair and sit down, taking it all in.

“He ruined everything,” Seth says. I’m not sure if he’s talking to the wall or talking to me.

But I know that Seth is wrong. Because no matter what Cal did, or whatever he does in the future, the past stands as it is. All this will remain, even when every last stick of furniture disappears.

Seth had it all. He had a childhood that I’ve only read about in books. When I buried my head under the covers of my metal bunk bed so nobody in the Tabula Rasa dorms would hear me cry, Seth was here in this room, getting tucked in every night by a mom and dad who loved him. No matter what he thinks, Seth had a great childhood.

Little League, guitar lessons, smiling pictures. A mom who decorated his room, a dad who still cares about him. Why can’t Seth see any of that? Why does he have to be such a jerk?

Cal wants Seth in his life for some reason, so that’s what I’m going to accomplish. Cal said to do whatever it takes to keep Seth coming back. I’ll do whatever it takes, all right.

In the meantime, I’m going to teach Seth a lesson.

Someone needs to cut this Virus down.

Controlling people is easier than you’d think,
Barbelo Nemo wrote.
All you need to do is make somebody feel important. A little appreciation goes a long way. People love to talk about themselves. Speak their name softly, melodically.

Then you’re halfway there.

Next you make them think that what you want is what they want, and that it was their idea in the first place.

Appeal to their nobler motives. And when all else fails, smile.

That placid smile of Charming Corina’s works in almost every situation. So I decide to play this by the book. Seth is so upset right now that he’ll be easy to work with. “Seth,” I whisper, lying down on the bed next him. “It’s a big deal, you coming here. I bet that wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Seth rolls over to look at me, so that we’re nose to nose. “But it was worth it.”

“Just to see me? But you’re so busy. I bet you have a million things to do for
Veritas Rex
. I didn’t understand how famous it was until Cal told me.”

“My dad talked about me?”

“A little bit. I know he’s proud of you.” I run my hand down Seth’s arm, and we link fingertips. “So what was it like growing up in McNeal Manor?”

“Ordinary,” Seth answers.

Like I’m supposed to understand what “ordinary” means. But it’s a good opportunity to keep Seth talking.

“From those pictures it seems like you had the perfect family,” I say.

“Until he ruined it.”

“But you’re better than that,” I whisper. “You’re a man who moves on, who fights for the truth.” I lean in for a kiss.

I never thought I’d be this involved with a Virus. Seth slides his hand down my back and pulls me snugly against his body. I let him, because that might be what it takes to hook him.

But first I need to get Seth talking. He needs to remember the good things about Cal and start thinking about making things right, all on his own.

I put some space between us by tracing one of his tattoos. “What’s this one for?” I touch a Celtic knot.

“Family trip to Scotland when I was fifteen.” Seth breathes hard. “I snuck out when my parents were at a pub. Boy, did my mom roar when I came back after midnight. You should have heard her.” Seth smiles a bit, but then the happiness fades from his expression. “That was our last big trip together before her diagnosis.”

I slide my gaze down his chest. Another tattoo peeks out from under Seth’s shirt.

“What’s this one?” I point to something that looks Egyptian. “Is that … is that an aardvark?” I’ll never understand tattoos, ever. Blank skin makes me feel safe from bad decisions. Why would Seth want to spend the next eighty years with an aardvark?

But Seth’s not embarrassed at all. He pulls his shirt off so I can see it better—or maybe to see
him
better. And I have to admit, Seth has a fine physique to display. “That’s the Egyptian god Seth. He’s always shown with the head of an animal.”

“So you think you’re a god, do you?” I say, teasing. I rub my hands across a wall of pectoral muscles and ignore the fluttering in my stomach.