Authors: H. A. Swain

Gifted (34 page)

BOOK: Gifted

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My mother's trial was quick and decisive. She didn't deny a thing. After all, she had been pirating music for years. This time, though, there was no escape for her. The punishment Esther requested for me was conferred to my mother and the auditory cortical region of her brain was scrubbed. The one thing that made Rainey Robinson who she was, the thing that she passed on to me (along with the gap in my teeth and the curl of my hair) was erased from her mind forever. Like Calliope, her best friend, she will never again find pleasure in music. To them, songs are nothing more than a series of dissonant sounds. That fate is cruel enough. And so, slowly, I've let my anger toward my mother recede like the river after a storm. Now I do my best to take care of her and Nonda when I'm home.

Once she's done hugging Orpheus and me, we follow Mom to the newly yellow kitchen where Nonda's enjoying a cup of mint tea.

“Looks good!” I say, nodding at the walls, and planting a big kiss on my grandmother's soft cheek.

“Maybe I'll invite Medgers over,” Nonda jokes. The meds have been working well and she's mostly back to her feisty self, although her short-term memory still slips now and again. But that's okay. She has my mom and Marley (who comes often though Dorian stays away) so they can revisit the past together.

“How's your mother?” Rainey asks Orpheus.

“Fine, I guess,” he tells her with a shrug.

“I like that Libellule,” Nonda says. “She's the real deal, that one.”

“She's something else, that's for sure,” he says.

Libellule took the biggest house in town, of course, the one up on the hill. She brought Alouette and a RoboNurse with her but left Chester and her clothing line behind to focus her energy on Dragonfly Recordings, a record label she swears will surpass Chanson Industries some day. Since Alouette is here, Orpheus is happy to live in the big house with his mom, but he spends most of his time at the studio we built in our backyard. This is where we record our music and continue the legacy of DJ HiJax, now a legal radio broadcast and digital podcast that promotes original new music.

I look at him and can tell he wants to get into the studio behind his mixing board again. Being on tour for weeks makes him itchy to record when we get home.

“We have a new idea for a song,” I tell my mom and Nonda.

“Go on,” my mother says, shooing us out the back door. “Get it down while it's fresh, then come back for dinner.”

“Thank you,” I say and kiss her on the check.

Orpheus and I head across the yard where Nonda's marigolds are beginning to fade into fall. It's dusky out now and the breeze carries up sounds from the river. I stop for a moment to listen. There's the faint buzz of a bee, the chirp of small birds in the trees, and from far away the cry of a whippoorwill. I call back to him so he knows that he's not alone.

“Hey, look!” Orpheus laughs and points at my shirt. “You've got a little friend.”

I turn to see a dragonfly sitting on my shoulder, its myriad eyes taking in the world all around, and I wonder what it sees. How much the world must have changed since its early ancestors buzzed across this landscape with dinosaurs, then wooly mammoths and migrating tribes of humans making the first instruments out of bones. And yet, somehow, through it all, the dragonfly has managed to stick around.

“Hello,” I say, then I blow and watch it lift up into the sky, iridescent green wings thrumming as it darts away. I take Orpheus's hand. “Come on. We have music to make.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many strange things have to collide for a novel to come into the world. This book started with a bump on the head that made me see stars and hear music, then lingered for weeks as I nursed my bruised brain through the mind-numbing recovery from a concussion: No reading, no writing, no watching screens, just plenty of time to think as my husband and children made music in our house. Then the writing began, but that's not all it takes to make a book.

I would like to thank the many fine folks at Feiwel and Friends, including Jean Feiwel, my editor Liz Szabla (for her endless encouragement, patience, and confidence in me), creative director Rich Deas and his teamâHeiko Klug (who must have built a time machine to travel to the future of my creating in order to snap a photo of the dragonfly drone that she created for the cover art), Kathleen Breitenfeld, and Elizabeth Dresner. I'm astounded by the beauty of this book!

My deepest gratitude to everyone at LGR Literary, especially Stephanie Kip Rostan (for leading me through the maze of publishing for the past eight years) and Shelby Boyer (who takes care of everything I would otherwise forget).

Special thanks to the Vermont Studio Center for providing me with a two-week residency overlooking the beautiful Gihon River, where the first draft of this book was written. I'd also like to acknowledge the real Carrie Elston Tunick, whose video installation work inspired a key moment in this story.

As always, all of my love and gratitude to Emily (without whom none of this would be nearly as fun), Adam (from whom I stole the idea of dragonfly drones), my parents (who never questioned whether I could make a life as an artist), my children (xoxoxoxoxo), and Dan (who provides all the back tracks for our lives).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H. A. Swain
is the author of several books, including the adult fiction title Cold Feet; the craft book Make These Toys; and the YA novel Josie Griffin Is Not a Vampire. She lives in Brooklyn. You can sign up for email updates
here
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CONTENTS

Title Page

Dedication

Gifted (34 page)

Other books