Three Black Swans (9 page)

If Genevieve implied that her parents didn’t pay enough attention to her, Ned and Allegra would snap back. Other parents might coddle, smother and spoil their children, who would grow up to be failures as adults, pathetic specimens at work and play. But Ned and Allegra were giving their daughter wings to fly.

Genevieve felt she had been flying since she was six weeks old, when they had turned her over to the nanny. A little time in the nest with Mommy and Daddy would be nice.

At least she still had time with GeeGee.

Even at ninety-three, the older Genevieve Candler had the most beautiful smile in the world. When her great-granddaughter walked into the nursing home, GeeGee would cry, “Hello, sunshine!” “Hello, sweetness and light!” or “Hello, pride and joy!” Then she would have a hundred questions. “Tell me everything, Vivi. How is your crush on William coming? Is Meghan speaking to you again? Did Tess stay captain of the softball team in spite of her grades? What did the history teacher think of your essay? How did you do on the chemistry questions for High School Bowl?”

Genevieve was her great-grandmother’s only frequent visitor. GeeGee’s three grandchildren—Ned, Alan and Dorothy—used their grandmother as a bank. Aunt Dorothy was always in the middle of a divorce and Uncle Alan was always in the middle of a career collapse. They showed up routinely to mooch off their grandmother for a month or a year. Like Genevieve’s
father, Alan and Dorothy needed help with vacations and cruises, new cars and boats, mortgages and down payments. The day came when GeeGee said to her middle-aged grandchildren, “There’s no more money. I’ve outlived it. You’ll have to pay my bills instead of me paying yours.”

Uncle Alan and Aunt Dorothy no longer wasted time visiting, while Genevieve’s father became too busy, and Genevieve’s mother said nursing homes gave her the willies. They hardly ever asked Genevieve about her visits and did not know that when the water aerobics instructor quit, and nobody else had the interest or qualifications to teach a class, Genevieve took over because GeeGee loved the water. Three afternoons a week, Genevieve coaxed ancient bodies into the pool.

After half an hour in the pool, and maybe a lesson in card games—because GeeGee felt that bridge, canasta and rummy were crucial to the well-balanced life—Genevieve would jog the half mile home.

Last night at dinner, her father had passed the plastic container of grilled salmon pasta salad. He did not ask about Genevieve’s day. She thought of mentioning High School Bowl practice. She knew better than to extend an invitation to the next meet. “I’m in the city at that hour,” her mother would say. “Vivi, I’m really stretched for time,” her father would add.

There was one thing Genevieve did need to bring up. “I was visiting GeeGee the other day. She thinks it’s time we scheduled college visits.” Actually, GeeGee felt it was long overdue for Ned and Allegra to do hundreds of things.

Her father shook his head. “You’re only a junior.”

“I know, Dad, but everybody begins planning now. During vacations, we should visit colleges.”

Her mother got up from the table and made a big deal of refrigerating the leftovers. If you could call untouched dishes leftovers.

The conversation did not continue. Ned and Allegra Candler gave each other what Genevieve had come to call their Dark Look: a half-hidden exchange of annoyance. Usually she had no idea what triggered the Dark Look, but this time it was probably money. Her parents worked hard (assuming you could call Dad’s job work, which most people didn’t), but they spent all their income and more. They were the classic overextended couple. They had probably assumed GeeGee would pay for Genevieve’s college, but that was not going to happen after all.

Genevieve tried to maneuver her parents in a college direction. “I don’t know enough about colleges to think about a particular school. Which ones do you like?”

She was not sure her parents would take out loans to help her. The reason she studied so hard and had joined High School Bowl was to win scholarships. She liked sports, but had no flair and was not good enough to play at the college level. Her scholarships would have to be academic.

“I haven’t thought about it,” said her father. “I’ll buy you some college guidebooks.”

“I don’t know about using vacations to visit colleges, Vivi,” said her mother. “Your father and I are really booked. How about the virtual campus tours every university has online?”

Her parents exchanged a satisfied look, as if the college question was now settled.

Ordinarily, Genevieve tried to placate her parents. Maybe it was the accumulated hours of being home alone. Maybe she was still hungry. But this time Genevieve had had it. “What is there about me?” she demanded. “Why are you just standing here waiting for me to grow up and go away?”

Her mother snapped the lid of a leftover food container. Her father leaned back in his chair.

Genevieve was furious. “You two always seem to have some other kid in mind. You don’t even like being around me. What kid would you rather have?”

They exchanged their Dark Look. It was not annoyance. It was a mixture of apprehension and dislike. Maybe even fear.

Fear? thought Genevieve. Of what? Of whom? Of me? “What family secret are you hiding?” she demanded. “Did I commit a murder or something when I was a toddler?”

“Vivi,” said her mother, as if identifying her child at last.

“Did I find a gun and shoot somebody during a play date?”

“Vivi!”

“Don’t call me baby names. Give me answers. You don’t like to be with me. You never have. Tell me why.”

Her father rallied. “Vivi, we adore you. You’re the center of our lives. It’s a bit of a jolt to realize that our baby girl is ready for college. Are you thinking you’d like to stay near home, and attend a nice small school in New York State or New England or Pennsylvania? Or are you feeling daring, and want to try the West Coast or the Deep South?”

Her mother joined in. “Do you picture a campus with forty thousand kids or five hundred? A big city or a country village? Mountains or shore?” Out of her briefcase, Allegra pulled a yellow legal pad and a pencil, which looked archaic. Allegra’s life was conducted on her Treo.

Incredibly, the three of them stayed at the little round table far into the evening, while Dad asked questions and Mom began a to-do list.

Now in the stuffy hall at her high school, midafternoon on Thursday, Genevieve thought that the college talk had been camouflage. Wouldn’t normal parents react more than that if their daughter suggested she might have murdered a playmate? At least frown? “Oh, stop it. The worst thing you ever did was bite that nasty little Nathan when he bit you.” Or maybe normal parents would tease—“No more true crime television for you, young lady.”

As for Genevieve’s accusation that her parents had wanted some other kid—wouldn’t a normal parent deny that? “Of course we don’t want some other kid! You’re perfect. Except when you’re exaggerating.”

But Genevieve’s parents were not normal. In the outside world, they were normal: at work, at play, at parties. But they were not normal with her.

A boy’s voice startled her. “Genny!”

Genevieve shifted the weight of her books to her other arm.

“Genny!” the boy called again.

Genevieve did not think of herself as Gen and certainly not as Genny, so she still did not turn around.

“Vivi,” said Cammy, hurrying by. She tapped Genevieve’s shoulder. “Jimmy Fleming is running after you.” Cammy beamed, happy for her.

Jimmy Fleming was a big deal—a senior widely adored for his amazing abilities in every sphere: from being captain of High School Bowl to captain of varsity baseball, from winning a Westinghouse scholarship to being president of Key Club. He was cute in a lanky, puzzled way. Jimmy Fleming looked like a boy who didn’t have the answer, couldn’t catch the ball, forgot his homework.

No.

Jimmy was awesomely prepared on every level, in every subject.

The first time Genevieve participated in an actual Bowl meet, she had gotten flustered. She knew perfectly well that Mozart’s
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
was
A Little Night Music;
that the Union Army general who burned Savannah was William Tecumseh Sherman; that Marcus Aurelius was one of the Antonine emperors. But she had failed to think of the answers fast enough. She had not known how many ghosts visited Ebenezer Scrooge, but at least she hadn’t forgotten that the world’s largest lizard was the Komodo dragon.

For High School Bowl, the boys wore a suit and tie, and the girls wore a white top, a skirt and high heels. High School Bowl was televised. It was a popular local-channel event. Her parents were never home to watch television, so they did not know how poorly Genevieve had done her first time out, but
other parents had been comforting. “Next time you’ll show them, Vivi. You had stage fright. It won’t happen again.”

Genevieve assumed that Cammy’s delight was misplaced. Jimmy Fleming just needed to tell her something about High School Bowl. Although usually he texted.

She turned to see Jimmy racing in her direction as fast and thoughtlessly as a three-year-old careening across a room, about to misjudge the distance and hit the wall. He was breathless and excited, which was nearly always the case. “When you fall in love,” GeeGee liked to say, “pick a boy with bounce.”

Genevieve smiled at the bounciest boy she knew.

Jimmy Fleming skidded to a halt. “Genny!” he said in a low, excited voice.

Genevieve always used her entire name, and never used anything else. Nicknames came from people who resisted long names. Why couldn’t Jimmy, who knew all trivia in all subjects, remember that? She corrected him softly. “Genevieve.”

“Right. Genevieve.” He extended a hand as if to touch her, and then seemed to think better of it. He let his hand fall. He chewed his lip, which she had never seen him do, even when his next answer would win or lose the meet. “Genevieve, remember last year when High School Bowl made the finals? Remember how we had tournaments with the winners from other New York State counties? Remember we played the Westchester County champion?”

They had had a bus, like a sports team, and a cheering section full of friends and parents—not her parents, but enough
for the team to feel supported. “I didn’t play,” she reminded him. “I was new. I sat there.”

“That’s true, but you sat next to a guy named Ray Feingold.”

Ray Feingold had made her laugh so hard she had had to fight for control throughout the meet. Ray Feingold had even more bounce than Jimmy. Ray had gotten in touch with Jimmy Fleming about her? That was so romantic! Genevieve beamed at Jimmy Fleming.

*  *  *

Jimmy had been eager to chase Genevieve down. He’d looked up her schedule, tracked her probable route and snagged her in the hall with seconds to spare. He stared at her black halo of hair because he could not meet her shining eyes. She had misunderstood why a boy far away in another county was thinking of her.

I don’t want to be the messenger, thought Jimmy. People shoot the messenger.

The bell rang the end of passing period.

Jimmy was a fan of almost everything in life. He liked all sports and all academics. He liked all activities and all pursuits. He liked all girls. But there were standouts, and Genevieve Candler was one. Jimmy never saw Genevieve smile without having to smile back. It was a gift, getting others to smile.

Jimmy had been told that not only did this girl visit her ancient great-grandmother in a nearby nursing home most days, but that three afternoons each week, she led water aerobics for
ninety-year-olds. What could ninety-year-old people even do? Could they do it more than ten minutes? Could they do it without drowning? What would people that old look like in bathing suits?

Each time Genevieve showed up for Bowl practice, Jimmy thought of the long list of activities on his college applications. Not one equaled Genevieve’s stint in a nursing home. It was beyond beyond.

Genevieve was laughing. “About Ray,” she reminded him.

Jimmy could think of no way out. He swallowed. “Something went down this morning at a high school in Connecticut. Not Ray’s high school, he’s in New York State. See, the Connecticut school televises morning announcements. A friend of Ray’s goes there, and forwarded him this weird video from this morning. Well, not to Ray in particular, but to everybody he knew.”

“Weird” was not the word for the video. “Dramatic and emotional” defined the video.

The weird part was standing in front of Jimmy.

*  *  *

What could a Connecticut high school video have to do with her? Genevieve had been born in Connecticut, which was annoying, because she could not claim to be a New York native. But her parents had moved to Long Island when she was little, to be near GeeGee. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in Connecticut. Why would you go there? But she didn’t care about some video. “And Ray?” she asked excitedly.

“Ray asked me to tell you about the video.”

Genevieve tried to hide a rush of disappointment.

Jimmy flapped his arms, as if starting the chicken dance. “You know what? Let’s forget it. Pretend I didn’t chase you down, okay?” He backed off, waving good-bye although he was only a few feet away.

“Have you seen this video, Jimmy?”

“Um. Yeah. But it can wait.”

Genevieve had never participated in the videos kids sometimes made where they were naked or acting crazy, so this could not be a film that had come back to haunt her. She could not imagine what the content might be. She took out her Smartphone, which was new and had dozens of applications she had not even tried.

“That screen is too small,” said Jimmy.

“That’s okay. What’s the link?”

“There isn’t time,” said Jimmy. “You have physics.”

Jimmy Fleming knew her class schedule? Genevieve found this surprising and delightful. “I can be late. I’ll claim High School Bowl had a meeting.”

Jimmy was visibly trying to think of more excuses.

She was intrigued. “If it’s important enough for Ray to locate me and important enough for you to panic, let’s go to the library and you can show me on a nice big computer.” Genevieve tap-danced toward the library. Dancing, she had the poise to take Jimmy’s hand and haul him along.