I wasn't sure Gramp knew. Maybe it was a piece of family history that had become jumbled, mixing reality and illusion. I could ask him, but I wasn't ready to reveal my mission to locate his sister. I didn't feel ready to do anything.
The diary was too much with everything else. Ben. Duncan. Kate. Parallax. Extraterrestrial life. And now my great-grandmother, the da Vinci smuggler. I missed my old life. Especially the days when it was Gramp in the bubble with me and everything else floated by without touching us.
I should tell him about the smuggling.
No. It was a tiny piece of the story. I should wait until I knew more.
I could tell him about walking on water.
Or about the nanobes.
I could tell him I was developing my amphibious idea for FetchBot.
Or not.
"Hi, Gram. How are you?"
"Hi, sweetie. I'm glad you called. We miss you, Gramp and I do."
"How's Gramp?"
"Oh, honey. He's had a bit of a setback. He got lost yesterday. When we found him, he'd fallen and broken his arm. He's okay but in a bit of pain. At least it was his right arm. I didn't call because I was afraid you'd worry."
Lost. A broken arm. It was hard to picture Gramp with a cast. Then again, it had been hard to see him in a hospital bed. He'd always seemed larger than life to me, my personal superhero. But superheroes don't wear casts and don't have dementia.
"Can I talk to him?"
"Yes, but give him some time to orient himself."
What on earth did that mean?
There was a pause and then Gramp's voice. "Hello?"
"What happened? Are you okay?"
"Isabella? Is that you? When are you coming to visit Nate?"
"No, Gramp. It's me, Savanna. Mom's in Antarctica. Remember?"
"Who? Speak up. I'm having trouble hearing you."
"I'm Savanna. Your granddaughter." I reached for anything to make his synapses fire. "You know, Circus Peanuts. Your favorite grandchild. Inventor of FetchBot."
It's me, Gramp. Me. Please remember.
"Oh, hey, kiddo. Guess Gram told you. I'm a little banged up. I was a bit light-headed is all. And missed a step. I'm lucky it wasn't worse. Enough about me. How's Parallax?"
"I don't know, not what I expected. I'm confused." But Parallax was the least of my worries. I was stuck in Green Bank and every day Gramp was worse. Moments devoted to Parallax were moments stolen from Gramp and the diary. I had to find his sister before he faded away and didn't come back to me. I had to focus, get myself under control. I was losing him.
"You know the solution to that, don't you? You must remember my patented Steve's Sure-Fire Semi-Secret Stratagem." His laugh sounded normal, from the before-times.
"Of course I remember it, but I haven't used it in forever."
"Well, it seems now is the right time."
"I miss you, Gramp."
"Miss you too, kiddo. Now go make that list. Call me in a few days and tell me how it went."
I always felt better all those times I'd made lists with Gramp. This time, I could make a list and imagine Gramp guiding me, helping sort things out. He wouldn't seem so far away.
I rummaged around for a pen and opened my notebook. I headed the page "PARALLAX." I drew a line down the middle and labeled the right column "PRO" and the left "CON." I began writing under "CON" because I always started Steve's Sure-Fire Semi-Secret Stratagem with the negatives. This wasn't the time to go all crazy and change my pattern.
1. Ben was cute.
No, that was a positive. I scratched it out and wrote it under "PRO."
1. I was interested in two different boys.
Wait. Was that good or bad? I scratched it out. Wait, I realized there was something that made it a Con. I put it back on the list.
1. I was interested in two boys. Kate was interested in them, too, even though she already had a boyfriend.
2. Kate had an advantage when she picked her teammate after the first challenge.
That was definitely a negative. It really bugged me.
3. I wasn't friends with anyone at Parallax.
Maybe that wasn't true. I crossed it out.
3. Kate was smart and pretty and thin.
4. Parallax was harder than I expected.
5. There was teamwork.
6. The next time Gramp forgot who I was, he might never remember me again.
Technically, that wasn't a Parallax issue, except being stuck at Parallax meant I couldn't see him.
I already had an item under "PRO," but I changed it to add Duncan. Better odds if there were two guys to consider.
1. Ben and Duncan were both cute but in different ways.
2. Two boys seemed interested in me.
This might not be a testable hypothesis. If they were intentionally misleading, this should be under "CON."
3. Melisse and Christina might be friends. With me.
If I was wrong, this belonged under "CON," but I decided to keep it under "PRO."
4. I was on the winning team for some of the class challenges and one of the projects.
5. I still stood a chance of being selected.
6. Gramp would never forget me if I found his sister.
I had some doubts about that, but I preferred balanced lists. Six and six.
Steve's Sure-Fire Semi-Secret Stratagem wasn't as magical this time. It did slow down my churning, looping worries about Parallax, but it didn't change the most important thing: Gramp hadn't recognized me on the phone call. He thought I was my mom. Without me around, he had forgotten who I was. Just like I predicted.
Nothing could change that. Nothing.
~~~
Ms. Tyson pointed to two bags, one on a table at the left wall and one on a table to the right. There were three names on each. My name was on the one that included Kate and Christina. That was good and bad. Kate was smart but bossy. Christina worked hard but didn't usually take the lead. I could be resourceful, so it could work out.
Right.
"Go to the bag with your name. I'll let you know what to do next." Ms. Tyson tugged the front of her green tartan vest and adjusted a teal grosgrain hair ribbon that had come undone.
"Let's get this party started. Your task is to find a way, without using any tools, to insert a paper straw through a potato, leaving the potato whole. As soon as each team accomplishes the task, please take your seats. Open the bags now."
There were three paper straws and a raw potato about the size of two fists in the bag. Kate dumped them on the table and said, "Okay, I got this. Neither of you will need your straws."
I ignored Kate and picked up a straw. I took the wrapper off and tested its flexibility and sturdiness. Christina grabbed the remaining straw.
Kate tried to screw the straw into the potato millimeter by millimeter. She stopped when a quarter of the straw dissolved into mush. The other evidence of her effort was a tiny indentation where the potato skin had worn away because of friction.
"Christina, give me your straw." Kate held out her hand.
Christina said, "Oops." She grimaced and held up her index finger with a straw twisted around it. "Sorry. I was nervous. Besides, you said you didn't need it."
Kate snarled. "Great." Her expression was one of disgust. "Savanna, give me your straw."
"No."
"Give me your straw," Kate repeated through gritted teeth. Her hand shot out as she tried to take it from me. Clutching empty air, Kate hissed as she failed to snatch the straw away from me.
"Careful, Kate, this is our last one. We can't afford damage." Backing down was not an option for me, not with Kate. She'd lay claim to everything, given the opportunity.
"What's your suggestion, genius?" Kate stood with her hands on her hips, ready for a fight.
"I have an idea that should work, but Christina might have something to offer." When I turned to Christina, she sniffed twice, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her sleeve and shook her head.
"A bunch of clowns, that's what I have on my team. I'm not letting you ruin my chances for the NASA slot. Give me the damn straw." Kate was a volcano ready to erupt.
Interesting.
I wasn't the only one with anger issues. And Kate had been slipping. I recognized the symptoms. At this rate, she might snap before I did.
"No, you give me the potato. You had your chance. You failed."
Kate shoved the potato at me. "This better work."
"Or what, Kate? You'll have to admit you were wrong?"
I turned my back for a few seconds, then spun around. "Ta-da!" I held the potato above my head. The straw had neatly pierced the potato. I returned to my desk and placed the potato in front of me. I wouldn't share how I had done it. I'd won and that's all that mattered to me.
"Well done. Savanna, your team is the first to complete the assignment. Everybody, please take your seats. Tell the group how you did it, Kate."
Kate sat up tall. "We made one failed attempt and then had some, um, problems with one of the straws before we settled on the solution. Since it was a team effort, I'll let Savanna explain the rest."
I traded a skeptical look with Christina, surprised that Kate hadn't thrown her under the bus for ruining a straw. I scrambled for a way to embarrass Kate, but she had caught me unprepared. Always the clever one, I had to give her that.
I said, "When Kate twisted the straw through the potato, it made the straw wet. It began to disintegrate as she pressed harder. I saw...I mean, we figured it was basic physics—speed and distance were the key elements."
I smiled one of those fake smiles Kate had refined. "We tried the opposite of the slow approach. I slammed the straw through the potato as fast as I could. Ta-da."
"A round of applause for Kate, Christina, and Savanna. Great teamwork!" Ms. Tyson led the clapping.
Teamwork. Ms. Tyson had it half right: It had been work definitely, but truth was, there had been no team involved at all. There'd never be a team if Kate was involved.
~~~
I sank into a couch outside the Milky Way Cafe, dreaming about a hot fudge sundae. Yes, chocolate. That would help.
So far, we'd had three classroom challenges and two project assignments. Even though I was on the winning team several times, I had no extra points. No immunity. Zippo. Nada. Zilch.
Nor did anyone else, except of course Kate, who'd been given the chance to pick her teammate after figuring out how to guess a number. Some big challenge that was. There was no way to know what else she was being given credit for. There was no point in trying to win if some people were rewarded and others weren't. If the whole competition was some secret black box process, maybe Kate had already been chosen and we were only going through the motions.
It would be better to go back to Gram and Gramp's for the rest of the summer and work on the diary and FetchBot. Besides, I was worried about Gramp. I had to spend as much time with him as I could. Because in September, I'd be dumped at a boarding school, Wynton-Lawson Academy. More like Win Some, Lose Some Academy.
And I needed a giant chunk of time to finish the diary. It would be easier without all the Parallax work. Much easier. I couldn't do all this anymore. I had to give up something. And it wouldn't be Gramp.
I called Gram again, this time to test the water, to see how much flak would be coming my way if I dropped out. I pretended I was calling to check on Gramp's broken arm.
"Hi, Gram. It's me. How's Gramp? I'm sitting outside the ice cream parlor, and that reminded me to call you."
"Ice cream reminded you of me? I'm flattered." Gram's warmth came through the phone.
"Well, a hot fudge sundae here won't be as good as the ones from the Dairy Godmother."
Gram clicked her tongue and asked, "All right, what's going on? I know if hot fudge sundaes are on the agenda, you're upset. What happened?"
While I decided how to say I was leaving Parallax, a family stopped at the entrance to the Milky Way Cafe. The two kids, twins probably, were dressed in matching striped tee shirts. With the nervous energy of little kids, they chattered and pulled their parents toward the cafe. One of them asked about chocolate cake. Good luck with that sugar high, mom.
That's when Kate snuck into the café with a glance over her shoulder.
"Savanna? Are you still there?" Gram startled me back to our conversation.
"Yes. Sorry. I was distracted for a second."
"Are you okay?"
"Today wasn't a very good day for me. It's a waste of time for me to be here. I should come home and help you take care of Gramp."
"Savanna Mae, I won't listen to that kind of talk from you. Gilsons finish what they start. And I can manage Gramp. We'll be fine."
"But Gram, they're not being fair. Sometimes people earn credit for stuff and sometimes they don't. They should treat everyone the same." I explained how Kate was allowed to select Liz for the 3-D project. It was as good a reason as any to keep riding the I Hate Kate Express.
"It's an old-fashioned case of inequity aversion. Do you remember that old study of the Capuchin monkeys where one became aggressive over being given a cucumber slice instead of the preferred grape his companion received?"
Gram was a retired evolutionary biologist. It had certain disadvantages for family members. Being compared to lower primates was one of them. I've learned not to be offended.
"Yes, it's like that exactly," I said.
"Well, you're learning a good life lesson. Credit doesn't always go to the deserving."
"You mean I have to stay?"
"Yes. I know I might sound trite, but no matter how tough the situation you find yourself in, you can always learn from it. By the way, did Kate win that project with Liz?"
That detail had escaped me until Gram asked, but the project they submitted hadn't won, so her advantage hadn't helped. It didn't change that it wasn't fair.
Gram said, "I take it your silence means no."
"Well, yes, but she has won two challenges."
"So, you are doing better than Kate?
"Yes, I'm ahead," I admitted. "But not by much."
"So, work hard and keep it that way. Be nice to yourself. Have that hot fudge sundae I know you want."
While Gram had been talking, Kate wolfed down a cupcake in about three bites. Her cheeks bulged as she tried to swallow. When she left with a giant milkshake, I ducked down before she could see me.
"I changed my mind. I'm not that hungry now. I need to run."
"You're giving me whiplash, girl. Sure you're okay?"
"Love you, Gram. Bye."
Kate headed in the direction of our suite. I followed behind. Far enough to avoid being seen, close enough to see her suck down that milkshake so fast it must've caused a brain freeze.
I darted into one of the parlors that seemed to appear around every corner so she wouldn't see me when she got on the elevator. I sat on a sofa to figure out what I'd witnessed.
If Little Miss Perfect wasn't perfect, then I'd find out and then expose her for the hypocrite she was.
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13 maggio 1942
Months have passed since I last opened this journal. There has been no time for writing.
This is my last transport. I will return this masterpiece to Liechtenstein to rejoin its home in the Princely Collections. I have my copy to sell if it becomes necessary.
In my dreams, I admire Ginevra's beauty in a Europe free from war. But my dreams don't provide me with food. They don't pay the rent. My dreams aren't real not like the nightmares I awake to every day.
27 maggio 1942
It was all confusion. A message reached me late. I was nearly betrayed. In the end, I left the painting with Liesl. She promised to take Ginevra safely home.
Liesl hugged me with such intensity before we parted. The chances of meeting again are impossibly small. Our final gaze said much. I was certain her face reflected my own reaction: I pray you survive even if I do not.
On my return, when the train stopped before crossing into Italy, the border police seemed on edge. Aggression at the corners of their sneering lips, they began pulling passengers off the train. As we stood in a line in the aisle of our car, everyone was still, barely breathing, afraid any movement would draw unwanted attention. A young woman in a red beret stuffed her hat into her bag as if she knew it endangered her. When the officer placed his hand on her shoulder, I flinched. He had his back to me but seemed to sense my reaction. He turned and ordered me to step off the train and pointed to a group of about ten people gathered on the platform. I masked my fear when I saw two fellow conspirators among them. I knew they had been on an earlier train and I worried I had been identified by them.
I knew my best course of action would be to pretend I knew no one and I was relieved when the police ignored me. That meant my role had not been revealed and the situation was merely a coincidence. But coincidences can kill.
The one I knew as Antonio made a show of accidentally dropping a cigarette near me. He bent to pick it up and, when he stood, he whispered, "Be ready to jump back on."
A guard with a rifle forced us into a line as the engine began to whine. I stood not far from the train when Antonio bolted from the line and raced toward the rear of the train. The police yelled and ran after him, including the guard who had been standing in the train doorway. An officer cried out for him to stop and raised his rifle. In the moment when Antonio crumpled to the pavement and the train began to move, I leapt into the open door and fell to the floor, cringing, certain I would be next.
Once home, I crawled under some blankets, but I could not stop shivering. I have no doubt I owe Antonio my life. I hope I will have the chance to tell his family that he died a hero.
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