The timing of everything was off. I needed to concentrate on the diary, not Parallax. But the diary wasn't a sure thing for answers to my questions about whether Gramp had a sister. Wading through every page could be a dead-end but any page might hold a clue. It might be a big waste of time, a distraction, letting me pretend Gramp wasn't ill. I could blow my chance at Parallax for what? A delusion?
On top of that, I was stuck here, in this place where I was out of place. The dining room in the Arouet Suite was an example of French Seventeenth Century Overdone. The wallpaper had replicas of mosaics from Pompeii, or somewhere, which granted was cool. Especially the one with the birds and the cat at a water basin. There were two filigreed mirrors, and a gigantic dining table so highly polished I could see my reflection. And matching chairs that probably had some description like Regency or Empire, similar to the stuff I'd seen on a tour of the White House last spring. The table was set with delicate floral china and a baffling amount of silverware.
My head throbbed. I was used to sitting at the kitchen island eating a frozen waffle I'd zapped in the microwave. On a good day, I used the toaster.
Please don't let me spill anything.
I sat at the end next to Melisse. Another girl, Olivia, sat across from her. They both grew up on farms in Pennsylvania and bonded over least favorite barn chores and a love of animals. Kate's new roomie, Christina, sat across from me. My presence was irrelevant. Not that that was a bad thing. Realizing no one would notice, I hit the buffet for another biscuit.
"Good morning." Ms. Robbins entered the dining room and pulled out a chair at the end of the table. "Hope you all slept well."
Kate, bubbly as ever, said. "Oh, it's so nice here. We're very lucky." She turned to the girls to her left. "Don't you think?" She was at ease, carving her melon with a delicate motion, setting aside the rind discreetly, and finally chewing and swallowing the pieces as if it was the finest cuisine. Of all of us, she belonged in this exclusive resort, with its extravagant decor and all its beautiful guests.
Liz, the sixth participant, agreed with Kate, but after she did, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. At the orientation, Liz was low-key but didn't hide how smart she was either. She would be my toughest competition. And she was as pretty as Kate, maybe prettier. Ugh.
The forced closeness with all these people made my skin crawl. We all had rooms on the same hall. Living close to each other, having roommates, might be part of a test. If it was, I was starting down a few notches from everyone else. All sharp elbows and fumbled words, I was an alien on Planet Parallax.
A random thought hit me: I might have royally screwed myself with the whole far-away-on-Mars-with-a-small-team-of-settlers solution to my life. So stupid that I hadn't considered I still had to get along with people. And there'd be no escape from Mars.
Yeah, hermit life on a mountaintop in Nepal might not be so awful. Current address? The intersection of Rock and Hard Place.
One of our instructors stood up. Ms. Tyson, who had double majored in engineering and art and taught at a magnet school in Ohio, said, "If I don't drink some more coffee soon, I won't make it through the tour." A piece of batik-dyed fabric served as a headband to hold back wiry hair fighting to liberate itself. Splotches of red paint spattered her arms and tinged her fingernails. At least I hoped it was red paint.
The older man and woman across from her laughed in unison. Ms. Voorhees' soft, gray curls bounced as she reacted. Mr. Hopkins' head bobbed before he took a dramatic swallow from his coffee cup and sighed with apparent pleasure. They were the other instructors and married. They had the large bedroom at the end of the hall, right next to Kate.
Mr. Hopkins was a bland-looking man in aviator glasses and nondescript clothing. As I passed by him, heading back to the table, I caught the distinct whiff of mothballs. Not completely non-descript after all. With the shared gestures and completion of each other's sentences, Mr. Hopkins and Ms. Voorhees were a matched set.
"We have a busy day today," Ms. Voorhees said. "Best be going," Mr. Hopkins finished. They pushed back from the table and rose simultaneously. They reminded me of synchronized swimmers.
I coughed to hide my involuntary snicker. Melisse heard me and cocked her head as if to say they were cute. I reached for the blackberry jam to mask a sudden awkwardness sludging through my body.
"Did you all bring your swimsuits?" Kate asked. I caught the subtle twist to her lips, the typical sneer that most people missed. "With all this great Southern food, exercise will have to be on the agenda."
I didn't care about swimsuits. I wasn't going near the pool. I slathered extra butter on another biscuit, raised it slowly, waiting for the right moment. Kate's eyes connected with mine and, as the melting butter dripped off one edge of the biscuit, I took a bite. She curled her lip and left no doubt she was disgusted.
Mission accomplished.
Ms. Robbins tipped the last drop from her cup and asked for our attention. "Here's what's on the agenda for today: We'll meet in the lobby at nine o'clock to head over for a tour of Green Bank Observatory and your lab orientation. In the afternoon, class will begin, and the competition will officially be underway. By the way, leave your phones in your room. Does anyone know why?"
Christina raised her hand, but Kate jumped in before Ms. Robbins could acknowledge her. "While I was researching the observatory, I read about the National Radio Quiet Zone and restrictions on electronics, but I'm not sure because I've been able to use my phone to call my boyfriend." Kate's smile bloomed with self-satisfaction and a side of showboating.
"See those square white boxes in the corners at the ceiling?" Ms. Robbins pointed to the box above us. "There are hundreds of them inside and outside the resort. They're cell antennas. But Hidden Springs is an aberration this close to the Green Bank Telescope. No cell phones there. Christina, do you have something to add?"
Christina shook her head. "Never mind. Wasn't important." Her eyes narrowed and her gaze darted toward Kate, who was oblivious. Christina poked at her eggs.
Seeing her small frown with its trace of annoyance, I leaned toward her and whispered, "Typical. Kate making it about herself and not actually about the Quiet Zone." I cleared my throat lightly to emphasize my sarcasm, but Christina's shrug wasn't encouraging. My comment was too subtle. Or too obvious. Something. Maybe Christina's reaction had nothing to do with Kate. I hadn't mistaken her irritation by being upstaged by Kate. Unless I had. Maybe she actually liked Kate. What made me pretend I'd be able to know?
People were so confusing to me. Here I was yet again, seeing myself as one of those people in videos where the sound doesn't quite match the lip movements, where the script didn't fit the action. Every interaction told me the same thing: I didn't belong. Why couldn't I be invisible? The world punishes people who don't fit in.
As Ms. Robbins left the dining room, she said, "Remember, be in the lobby at nine. Don't be late."
Melisse, who had been quiet, jumped up from her chair. "Thirty minutes! I promised to call my parents." She raced out.
I followed her from the room, then spun back quickly and was startled to see Kate staring at the tray of muffins on the buffet. She shook her head and seemed to mumble a few words. Kate's hand darted out, and she stuffed two muffins in her backpack. She took a hop away from the credenza the moment she saw me. "What are you staring at?" she asked, her sharp tone oozing out aggressions.
"I forgot my phone is all," I said as I pointed to where it sat on the table. I didn't know exactly what I'd seen, but I knew it was in my best interest to pretend I hadn't seen it.
Anger twitched around Kate's lips. "You should mind your own business. If you know what's good for you," she said as she stalked away.
One thing I knew with certainty: Anything good for me wouldn't involve Kate.
~~~
The door clicked. Melisse's key card. At home, my parents knocked on my door before entering my room. It was the one place where I could be entirely alone and relax. I wanted to squeeze in some diary time and I had hoped Melisse wouldn't come back to our room after calling her parents, but no such luck.
If I could stay in my great-grandmother's past a bit longer, her words would carry me away from all things Parallax. To be immersed a few more minutes alone with the diary meant minutes when I could pretend I was as brave as her. She was afraid of events and people around her but unafraid to act. Why didn't I inherit that from her?
"What's that old book you're reading?" Melisse said as she sat on her bed with a bounce.
I didn't look up. "It's a diary. From World War II. It was my great-grandmother's."
"Her actual diary? I mean, in her handwriting and everything? That's super cool." Melisse reached her hand out. "Can I see it?"
Nothing good ever came of sharing, Melisse's seeming sincerity aside. My great-grandmother's story wouldn't interest anyone else anyhow but curiosity about Melisse's opinion scratched an itch I didn't know I had. After marking my place, I handed the diary to her.
Most people would have flicked it open anywhere, but Melisse ran her fingers over the cover and then started at the beginning. She squinted as she read.
Melisse closed the book after a few minutes and said, "Her writing is strange, plus it's not normal English."
"I know. She was Italian. She used English to help keep her thoughts private."
Melisse said, "So it's genetic then."
"What are you talking about? What's genetic?"
Melisse fixed me with a stare. "Your pursuit of privacy."
There was always that familiar moment right before I lashed out. Possible reactions would open up in front of me. First the heightened awareness of myself—my physical reactions. Then my sense of time altered. It would become fluid, moving more slowly to give me a better chance to protect myself from a threat. The tiny little person inside, the part of me that'd known all along sharing was dangerous, could seize control.
I tried to gauge how long I'd been silent. Too long or not long enough, I didn't know, but Melisse seemed unaware of everything churning in my mind. Seeing her patient gaze startled me and shook me out of my agitation. I said, "I'm a private person. Is that a problem for you?"
Melisse said, "It's different, that's all. For me, I mean. I come from a big family. Two brothers and a sister. I share a bedroom with my sister."
"My family is multiple generations of only children." That stopped me for a moment. "Guess it could be genetic."
Or maybe not. Maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe it was that I found safety in being alone.
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10 marzo 1939
My skills in deception are improving. I am learning to project the image of an ordinary person, to do nothing to alter initial impressions. Crossing the German border into Switzerland today, I found it easier as I took up my knitting. The very picture of domesticity. An older woman, part of our network, taught me to find natural weapons. "Lora, look at you knitting so innocently. Have you ever thought of other uses for those needles?" I shuddered at the possibility of what she meant. But each trip I am grateful for the advice she gave.
While I was in Germany, the mood was more tense than the last time. People scuttled along rainy streets and darted into dark doorways. Hitler's plans unfold daily. The Germans themselves are afraid to stop him. And whatever Hitler does, Mussolini is sure to react in a way that will protect his pride, regardless of the consequences for Italy.
Myself, I am taking risks I could never have imagined a year ago, but it is essential to act, to do what I am capable of. Today, though, I mistrust myself. There are so many who are so rightfully afraid. How can I, one woman, give them hope? At our last meeting, I said I was spitting on a forest fire that rages across an entire continent.
Our resolution is strong, but the desperation is so great.
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