Chapter 7: A Simple Assignment
Though I was sure I saw George leaving the cafeteria a few moments before my family rose from our table, the lab bench we shared was empty when I entered the classroom. I took my seat and got out the notebook I had set up for Chemistry, as well as a pencil and pen. I realized I was fidgeting without thinking about it. I must be getting good at pretending to be a human, to be unconsciously moving without needing to the way they did.
The other students were still wandering in when the teacher, Mr. McKnight, entered. I noticed he was making a beeline for me. Uh-oh. I was sure he was going to say something about my overzealous efforts on the assignment from our last class. I was right.
"Vanessa," he started, "I'd like to speak with you and George for a few moments before class starts." He smiled broadly at me. I tried to return the smile because that was what the family had said to do when someone smiled. But his words made it difficult to arrange my face that way. Why did he want to talk to both of us?
"He must be running late," the teacher went on, seemingly surprised by George's tardiness. I couldn't be anything but relieved that I had a few extra moments. "Just make sure you both speak to me before you leave, okay?" He was practically beaming at me, so I didn't have the heart to argue.
As the teacher walked away, I could hear the two boys at the table behind me shift in their seats. "I know how you feel," one of them said. I turned my head slightly and was surprised to see that he was looking like me. Had he been talking to me? How on earth could he know how I feel?
"It's a drag you got stuck with that loser," the boy went on.
"Yeah," his partner chimed in. "No one wants to be stuck with the Slav."
"Is that George's nickname?" I asked. Perhaps I could ease some of the frostiness between us if I called him what he preferred. Although I thought that was an odd choice.
The two boys looked at each other and smirked in that way that was beginning to be a little too familiar on the faces of humans when I made the mistake of paying too much attention to them. I realized I should cut the conversation off as soon as possible, not just because class would be starting soon. But I was too tempted to learn something about George that might help me relate to him a little easier. They were looking back at me now, but neither seemed about to answer my question. "What are you talking about?" I asked, more forcefully.
"It's just too bad," said the one that had first spoken. "You're stuck with the kid with the funny accent and doesn't know how to shower. It's gotta be hard for you to sit next to him, but at least you have an excuse not to talk to him. Even McKnight knows no one can understand a word he says."
Just then, George walked in. He was exactly a minute late, which the teacher seemed to notice, but as there were still a few students who hadn't yet arrived, he didn't make a big deal about it. He did start, however, talking to the class as soon as George had taken his seat next to me.
I only half-listened to the review of yesterday's assignments and the instructions he was giving for the labs we would start today.
The boys' words were buzzing in my mind. I had of course noticed that George smelled differently from the other students. I now realized I was supposed to find this unpleasant, rather than the opposite. I had also slipped in my efforts to appear human by missing that he spoke differently, though in my defense he hadn't said much for me to discern the accent the others had referred to.
I didn't get many opportunities to listen for what I was supposed to have noticed for the rest of the class, either. After we received yesterday's papers back (I gulped as I saw the many checks and stars next to my answers - it was clear the teacher had been surprised by my extra efforts), the teacher explained that we'd be starting labs. There were fifteen stations set up at different areas of the classroom and directions for us to follow at each station. He then pointed to each pair of partners, calling out the number of the lab they should go to. However, when he got to George and I, instead of just saying the next number, he said, "We're going to talk."
The two of us sat motionless as the rest of the class slid back away from the tables and headed off to their assigned labs. Mr. McKnight watched to make sure everyone understood where they were starting, then walked up to us and smiled again.
"I'm sure both of you will have no trouble with this circuit of labs, so I was thinking you might like a little extra credit project," he said.
Oh dear, I thought. Doing extra credit sounded like calling attention to myself, but refusing to do it would also raise questions, at least from the teacher.
"Do we have to do it together?" George asked, without making the smallest glance at me.
It was the longest string of words I had heard him form. And, now that I had been alerted to it, I could hear a little difference between his voice and the others. It was slightly rougher, with some of the syllables emphasized slightly differently than most of the human's I heard. However, I realized, it was probably much more similar to any other students than my family's voice or me when we spoke naturally. While his was slightly rougher, ours was definitely more musical and crisp.
"I think that would be best," Mr. McKnight answered. I couldn't help frowning slightly, and from the corner of my eye, I could see George doing the same. "The school board's putting a lot of emphasis on group work, and since this would technically require some extra resources on my part, it would be a much easier sell if I could tell them the two most advanced students were working together." He smiled, imagining the compliment would be all we would focus on, when of course all I could think of is how difficult it would be to work more with George.
"It will require a little time outside of class, too," Mr. McKnight went on. "I think you should enter Siemens Competition. It's a national competition, and you could win a scholarship." He paused, "Of course, there are no guarantees, but if you did win it could make a huge difference in college."
His sell was of course lost on me, since I knew I wouldn't be going to college in the usual way. If my family and I decided it was a good idea to get a degree somewhere, we wouldn't be using my transcripts from Bangor High. We'd probably make up new identities, and there wouldn't be any need for a scholarship.
I tried to think of a way to say no, but before I could, Mr. McKnight had walked away. I glanced at George, expecting his scowl to be in place. I was surprised to see he looked excited and even hopeful. He looked at me, and asked, "Would you like to try?"
I was so flustered by his direct gaze and his question that all I could do was shrug my shoulders.
He frowned at me, "I guess you probably don't need a scholarship."
I had just thought that myself, but his words irritated me. It was as if he was implying there was something wrong with having the money to pay for college without help.
Mr. McKnight returned, holding two thick folders that I had guessed were applications and background forms. George spoke to the teacher without glancing at me again, "It would be much better for me to do an independent project. We don't live near each other, and it will be hard to coordinate schedules."
"It won't be a problem," I said quickly. Though I wasn't sure why, I suddenly realized that I wanted to do something nice for George. Perhaps it would draw a little attention to me, and of course, it would be unfair of me to keep the scholarship money if we won. Nevertheless, I realized winning would probably mean a lot to George. I was sure the family lawyer could find a way to give my part of the money back or make a scholarship to make up for the one I might take away from a deserving human.
I turned to George, inhaling through my mouth to lessen the effect of the scent of his blood. "I don't mind working around your schedule, and I can come to your place when we need to study outside of school."
I thought he would be pleased, but at my suggestion George turned scarlet and the air between us warmed from his heated blood. I could hear his heart race. "I don't think that would work, either," he said.
Though my skin would never redden like his, I was sure I blushed a bit, too. I realized it was rude to invite myself into someone else's home. "We could work at my place, if you'd prefer."
"I don't really have a way to get there," he still looked uncomfortable, though his blush faded a bit.
"I'm sure my family could work out a car pool. This sounds like a great opportunity, so I'm sure they'd understand. My dad would be happy to drive us." I froze as soon as the words left my mouth. What a stupid thing that had been to say. I had of course been thinking of my actual dad, who I was supposed to refer to as my brother. Luckily, neither George nor the teacher realized that, they assumed I was talking about Carlisle. I went on trying to cover, "most of my siblings drive, and I'll be getting my license, soon. It won't be a big deal."
George stared at me and I stared back. I imagined all the ways that this could go horribly wrong, and for a moment, I thought for sure that he would come up with another reason to refuse. Instead, he got up and walked to the lab station that we were supposed to start. I followed him, resolved not to say anything else that didn't pertain to the work we had in front of us. It was his business if he didn't want to try for the scholarship, and of course, it made no difference to me.
We were halfway through the lab when I heard him quietly say out of the side of his mouth, "would tomorrow afternoon be okay?"
I looked at him, but he was staring at the blue flame of the Bunsen burner. The gas scent did nothing to dilute the smell of his blood. This was going to be hard, but I knew I couldn't refuse.
"I'll ask my brother to give you a ride home and let you know where to meet us after school."
"Thanks," he said, turning to look in my eyes again.
"It's no problem," I replied and silently hoped that would be true.
