Genesis Girl (14 page)

If other Vestals knew that Mr. McNeal released me, I’d be shunned. Headmaster Russell would probably take my cuff away. Once a Vestal is decuffed, they might as well be dead.

Four weeks of cloistering. At least, I think it’s the fourth week. I should have created a calendar and crossed out the days because it’s easy to lose track. I should have done that.

I should have done a lot of things.

I should have done a better job proving to Mr. McNeal what a perfect Vestal I am. I should have made him realize that he needs me in his life exactly as I am. One of the Brethren. Sealed for life. A blank slate for the genesis of anything.

I should have done better. I should have lived up to my platinum cuff. I should have embodied what it means to be top pick.

I should recite the Vestal Code of Ethics one hundred more times. That’s more important than sleep.

Much more important.

Sleep isn’t as important as being a Vestal.

I should know that.

Sometimes I climb down the ladder into my courtyard and look up at the sky. It’s so blue and clear. I see clouds drift by and think about how clouds are like perfect Vestals. They’re white and fluffy and higher than everyone else.
You’re a little cloud floating in the sky above the whole world. And you’re placid. Perfectly placid.
That’s what I’m supposed to be. But now I’m down here in the dirt.

The Virus comes to the first-floor window and stares at me every day. I can see his fingers twitch when he sees me. He’s itching to blog about me. I know it.

But I’ve never seen the Virus hold his palm up, so I guess he’s honoring his promise. I don’t think he’s taken my picture. Yet.

I don’t know how I got so confused by that Virus. He’s not good-looking at all! He’s tech-infested and covered in tattoos. I can’t believe I let him touch me.

You can’t ever trust a Virus.
That’s what Barbelo Nemo wrote, and he’s always right.

When I run around in circles, I think about the Vestal Ms. Lydia arranged for me to date. The one who sells soap. I wonder who it was. I’ve tried to remember all the Vestals I know, but my brain isn’t working right. The only thing I know for sure is that he and I would have been perfect together. We could have sold lots and lots of soap. I bet the whole world would have thought we were the perfect couple.

We would have been a beacon of light in a dark world. Everyone would have seen us and known that the people in front of you are what matters, not what’s happening on your palm.

But I’ll never get the chance to do that now.

Today I spend so much time in the courtyard looking at clouds that sleep finally overcomes me. The freezing rain wakes me up, and when I look in the first-story window, Mr. McNeal and the Virus are watching me.

But that’s okay, because Mr. McNeal owns my privacy. He can watch whatever he wants. I just wish he wouldn’t let his Virus watch too.

They’re right there the two of them, and Mr. McNeal holds something up to the window. That’s funny because he’s never done anything like that before.

I walk to the glass and see that it’s a sign.

It says
go back inside
.

So I do.

Water splashes down the ladder, but I hold on tight. I climb up to my room and drip water all over the carpet. I’m shivering, but that’s okay. The lights blind me. I must have forgotten to turn them off. Was that this morning? Yesterday? I can’t remember.

I hear pounding coming from the door, and it’s Mr. McNeal and his Virus.

“Blanca,” they shout. “Open the door.”

I slide open the deadbolt, and they both rush in at once.

“She’s freezing,” says the Virus. “Get her something dry.”

Mr. McNeal runs into the room with mirrors and comes out with a fluffy robe. He covers me up, and I finally stop shaking.

“You’ve got to do something, Dad,” says the Virus. “Do what we talked about. See if it works.”

Mr. McNeal sits me down on my bed.

“Blanca,” he says. “Will you still be my Vestal?”

“Yes.” Relief floods over me. “Of course I’ll be your Vestal. I’ll do whatever you tell me to for the next twenty-five years.” My plan worked!

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell you what to do again, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” I say.

“Don’t
ever
put yourself in danger again. You need to stay safe.”

“Yes, Mr. McNeal. Of course, Mr. McNeal.”

Then they’re both hugging me. I think somebody’s crying, but I don’t know who.

I should be whipped. I should be beaten. I should be kneeling in front of the Pool of Purity getting the thrashing of my life. That’s the only way I’ll ever be able to atone for my waywardness. If I were at Tabula Rasa, Headmaster Russell would keep me at Discipline Hour forever.

I slipped up today and said “Mr. McNeal” even though my purchaser told me explicitly to call him “Cal.”

“Yes, Cal. Of course, Cal,” I said immediately. But then he wrinkled his forehead and looked at me with pity.

So I went back to the hallway next to my cloister and sat by the door.
I’m not supposed to go into my rooms anymore until after dinner.
That’s what Cal says. That’s why I’m sitting here, overhearing him talking to the Virus, in the room below.

“I don’t know what to do, Seth. She’s not getting any better.”

“Was she this bad when you first got her?”

“No,” Cal says. “She seemed almost normal.”

The Virus snorts. “How can a Vestal be normal?”

“I don’t know anymore. But what I’m saying is when Blanca first arrived, she didn’t appear to be
abnormal
. She was eager to hear my plan for her, to help me get you back, but that was it. Nothing else about her struck me as odd.”

“Dad, there’s nothing about Blanca that isn’t odd.”

“But she didn’t seem that way at first! She used to be able to make her own decisions.”

Is that what he thinks? Good. Ms. Lydia is a genius. Before she put me in the car on the way to McNeal Manor, she gave me the best directions ever.

“Talk,”
she told me.
“Laugh at his jokes, converse, make polite conversation and occasionally supply your own ideas. That’s probably what your purchaser wants to hear, so that’s what you are to do.”

“Yes, Ms. Lydia. Of course, Ms. Lydia.”

“Good. And if you ever get in a position where you don’t know what to do, ask him. Clarifying questions are your friends. They always help, and they never look suspicious.”

“Yes, Ms. Lydia. Of course, Ms. Lydia.”

Ms. Lydia smiled at me.
“You’ll do great, Blanca. Remember, follow my instructions until your purchaser gives you enough of his own.”
Then she blessed me and sent me away.

If only she were here to tell me what to do now. Cal barely tells me anything.

“So what should I do, Seth?” Cal’s still talking to the Virus, and they don’t know I can hear. “I don’t want her to trap herself in there again. Should I take away the lock on her door? Or perhaps remove the door completely?”

“No,” says the Virus, for some reason defending me. “Don’t take away the door. That would mean taking away the last ounce of privacy she has left. You’ve already done a pretty good job of that as it is.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Cal sounds beaten.

“I know, Dad.”

“Now I just want to help her.”

“Me too,” says the Virus. “So how do we do that?”

“I don’t know.” Cal clears his throat. “That woman Lydia keeps calling me about letting Blanca go to that Vestal banquet she mentioned last month.”

“Are you kidding? We should keep Blanca as far away from those people as possible.”

“That was my first thought too,” says Cal. “But then I wondered if maybe it would reinvigorate her.”

“Reprogram, is more like it.”

He’s such an idiot. I’ve never seen a computer in my life. How could I reprogram one?

“Maybe she’ll be happier if she spends some time with her own kind,” Cal says. “Lydia wants to introduce her to a young man she thinks Blanca would like.”

The boy who sells soap! My soul mate!

“I can’t believe you’re considering this,” the Virus says, his voice rising. “None of those people should be trusted!”

“I’m not going to trust them, Seth, but I do want to hear what they have to say. Letting Blanca be around them for one night shouldn’t damage her any more than she’s already damaged.”

I still can’t believe he thinks I’m damaged. But Cal’s right about one thing. Letting me go to the Vestal corporate banquet is the perfect decision. That will make everything better.

“That’s the worst idea ever, Dad,” the Virus says. “The only way it would be remotely okay is if you go too.”

“To the Vestal banquet?” Cal asks.

“Yeah,” says the Virus. “That way you can keep an eye on her.”

“I’m not sure that’s allowed. I don’t think they let outsiders into a function like that.”

“Make them,” says the Virus. “Have Blanca call them up and say the only way she can come is if you go too.”

There’s silence for a moment. Cal must be considering.

I don’t know what to think myself. There’s probably no way Ms. Lydia would ever let Cal come, even though he doesn’t have finger-chips anymore. I’m not sure I could convince her.

“Maybe … ” Cal says. “Maybe I could say that I can’t let Blanca be introduced to this young Vestal Lydia wants her to meet unless I’ve met his whole family at the banquet.”

“Yeah,” says the Virus. “It’s worth a shot.”

There’s more silence. My mind whirls. I’m already planning what I’ll say to Ms. Lydia when I write her a letter later today. But then the wheels stop spinning, and I hear Cal say one more thing.

“I want Blanca to know that I’m sorry and that I only want what’s best for her now.”

“I know,” says the Virus. “Hopefully she hears that message one way or another.”

“She doesn’t have anyone on her side,” Cal continues. “Only me, and you too, if you still want to stick around.”

I don’t have anybody? Cal’s so clueless! I’ve got a whole Brethren of Vestals behind me! I’m part of the most important society there is!

“I’ll stick around,” the Virus answers. “It’s going to take both of us to help her.”

“Great! It will be wonderful having you back at the manor. I’ll ask Alan to arrange for movers to pack up your apartment.”

“Whoa! Wait a second,” exclaims the Virus. “I’m not moving back home. Where’d you get that idea?”

“You said you’d stick around.”

“Yeah, like stop by every day to see Blanca.”

I clench my fists. There’s no way I want to see the Virus that often.

“But I thought this was the opportunity for our second chance,” says Cal, with disappointment.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I have my own life.”

“I never should have given you that trust fund,” Cal mutters.

“My trust fund? What does that have to do with anything?” Eavesdropping doesn’t allow me to see his face, but I picture the Virus tugging at his unruly black hair.

“Everything!” Cal explodes. “If I hadn’t given you your own bank account, you never would have moved out to begin with.”

“Oh, I would have moved out, all right.”

“Not until college. Your mother would be crushed you didn’t get a degree.”

“I didn’t go to college. Big deal. I’m doing fine without a diploma.”

“Yes, but someday … ” Cal’s voice trails off as he and the Virus move to another room beyond my hearing.

I take a deep breath and clear their argument from my head. I need to concentrate on more important things. Tonight I’ll write that letter to Ms. Lydia, and soon I’ll be at the Vestal corporate banquet dancing with my friends.