Damselfly (13 page)

I suddenly want to be back inside my room, safe behind the door and not here where Dr. Christiansen might find me and become angry. I don’t know what that letter means, what the “biological experimentation” was, or who the other Thumbelinas were. If they died in 2066 and they were born at the same time as me, then they were possibly less than a year old.

Six Toms. Seven Thumbelinas. There should be thirteen of us total now. I close my eyes and sink down to the keyboard. So that’s why I’m alone. She killed them. She kept the Toms away from me because she didn’t want me to figure all of this out. It would have destroyed how her little science experiment interacted with her and developed.

I glance down at the clock. The date today is November 5. Only about five weeks left until the hearing.

My stomach heaves, and I dart down to the power switch. Just as I turn off the computer, I hear the click and drag of the front door opening and snagging the carpet. Someone’s inside the house.

Chapter 15

Keys shuffle and clink; shoes are removed. I can hear it all from my frozen position near the computer.

I force myself into motion and fly out of the office to the library door where I crouch in the shadow. Heavy footsteps halt before the light at the end of the hallway as if deciding whether or not to proceed. Then the figure steps into the orange glow. Long, tangled hair, but too tall to be Dr. Christiansen.

It’s Mr. Coxworth.

I let out the buildup of breath in my lungs in one big whoosh. Why is he here?

He pads down the hallway in his stocking feet and whistles low and long when he sees me hiding.

“So it worked,” he says. “I do not have much time because the production meeting is ending soon, so we need to hurry. I had a feeling I might find you out here, although I’m not quite sure how you escaped.”

I fly up close to his face and wave my fingers at him. “The keypad.”

“Of course. And what have you found?”

I’ve always liked this about Mr. Coxworth; he gets down to business. “Journal entries and something about a court case. Did you know about the other Thumbelinas?”

“Not until recently. I started working here when you were three years old, and no one outside the project knew about the other girls then. Dr. Christiansen kept her research a well-guarded secret.”

“Then who outed her?”

“That remains a mystery.”

“And why isn’t she getting arrested?”

“Because, legally, you are not a human, so there is no precedent for dealing with this sort of case. She cannot be charged with murder until the court determines the Thumbelinas were similar enough to humans for their killing to be considered immoral. And that will be difficult to do since Dr. Christiansen is the leading expert on tiny people.”

“Why don’t they ask me? I bet I know a little bit more about how it feels to be a tiny person than she does.”

“That just might happen. I wouldn’t rule it out. I also wouldn’t be surprised if some of your next dates are in other countries.”

There’s one question nagging at me. “How did they die?”

“I’m sorry, Lina, I really don’t know.”

“Does anyone know other than her?”

“Perhaps Dr. Lee, but he is in the Western United States.”

I cross my arms. It feels like there’s something he’s holding back. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I did not get the news until last week.”

“Is that why she’s keeping me locked up? She doesn’t want me to find out?”

“I’m sure that is part her reason, but I think she was already planning the show before this blew up. There’s something else she’s trying to do. Did you find anything about her future plans or experiments?”

“No, not yet. I didn’t have a lot of time though, and the letter about the court case really threw me.”

“I understand. It might be best if you go to your room and let me look for a while. That way, if I get caught, you won’t suffer any consequences. No use in both of us facing the wrath of the white witch. I’ll find a way to inform you if I find anything.”

“But what will happen to you if she finds you?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Okay.” I give him a grateful smile. “Don’t get caught. I don’t want to come out tomorrow and discover you’re an ice sculpture.”

He tips an imaginary hat and waves me toward my room. “Goodnight, Thumbelina.”

Chapter 16

I lie on my side, staring out the window. Rain sways against the glass in sheets, and every so often, lightning illuminates the tops of the trees with a crack.

I wonder how it happened. How did those six girls die and how old were they? I assume we were born at the same time. It only makes sense that the project tried to make an even number of girls and boys. What did Dr. Christiansen do to them?

Horror chokes me, and I gasp for breath. Did she do the same thing to me? Is there something about myself I don’t know? I hold my hand up in front of my face and study it, then my wrist, then my arm. I don’t look any different than Susanna except for my size. If there is something wrong with me, how would I ever be able to tell?

Why am I the only one who lived? Tears creep up into my eyes as I imagine what it would have been like to grow up with sisters. With friends. Would we have gotten along? Maybe, like Row and Blue, I would have only been close to one or two of them. We could have shared a room or my treehouse. I would have had someone to tell about Jack. Or maybe I never would have met him at all since I wouldn’t have been so lonely. I don’t particularly relish that possibility.

What would the other girls look like now if they’d survived? All of the Toms have separate biological donors and look completely different from each other. I’d wondered before why some races weren’t represented between the Toms and myself. None of us look Hispanic or Indian. Al is the only one with dark skin. Maybe one of the other Thumbelinas looked Polynesian or Ethiopian.

I remember the cat Jane was experimenting on and shudder. Dr. Christiansen’s restraint is non-existent when it comes to experimentation and “progress,” but was it always that way?

Maybe the Thumbelinas died by accident or caught some sort of sickness and it was all a fluke.

But my heart seems to think otherwise. I can’t get it to calm down. It seems intent on beating its way up into my throat to suffocate me.

“What do I do?” I whisper.

The pounding of the rain swallows up my voice, and the room feels as though it’s filling up with darkness.

Helplessness presses me down against the bed. Even if I find out what Dr. Christiansen has planned, how on earth will I stop her? Mr. Coxworth might help, but it feels like something is already in motion that’s much larger than the two of us.

For the first time in my life, I feel small. Not only physically small but small-souled. I think about each person in my entourage. Not a single one of them cares I’m my own person. We are all swept up into Dr. Christiansen’s machine. Everyone does their job and doesn’t stop to think about the consequences. How can I get any of them to listen to me when they don’t respect me in the slightest? Even George has always obeyed her almost without question.

I clench my jaw hard and squeeze shut my eyes as if that will protect me from the tidal wave of bitterness. I lose the struggle and drown in my anger.

I’ll show them somehow. I’ll figure out a way to come out on top, and they’ll all be sorry they ever obeyed a single command from Dr. Christiansen’s lips.

I fold my arms tight and scowl at the ceiling. I may be small, but I’ve been engineered to be smarter than any one of them and there has to be a way to beat them. I’m not even sure what “beating them” would mean, but I’m determined to figure it out.

Chapter 17

On our third date, we loaded into the middle of the crumbling Colosseum. As soon as I figured out where in the world we were, I ran, laughing, to the edge of the floor.

“What’s this down here?” The ground ended abruptly, exposing a maze of stone tunnels below.

“I read they kept the gladiators and lions down there in between performances. I guess two thousand years was too much for the floor to take,” Jack explained.

I squatted and then hopped down to the lower level. Grass and weeds had long overtaken the stone foundation. Jack joined me, and we walked, palm to palm, through the ancient hallways where men waited to die so long ago.

“Can you imagine what it would be like?” I asked him.

He gave me a wicked grin. “Want to find out?”

“What?!”

“Hang on a sec.” His avatar went still, and I knew he had pulled out of the world and was adjusting something. Moments later, he came back to life, and the walls began to grow upward, forming a ceiling above our heads.

“What’s going on?” But I needn’t have asked because flaming torches soon appeared in rusted holders along the walls. We were standing on a ramp, facing an opened gate.

“Shall we?” Jack led the way up, and then we were standing inside of an empty, reconstructed Colosseum, complete with banners.

“This is terrifying,” I said. “Think of how many people died here.”

“Bread and circuses,” Jack muttered as we walked around the arena. “I guess humanity hasn’t changed much.”

I wish I could say we had a serious conversation about the nature of modern entertainment, but we were too in awe of the history we were standing in. It seems strange now to remember how free we felt, how we didn’t have the slightest inkling I would be on the stage myself someday.

We walked through the halls of the old place, tracing our fingers along the walls, and found the spot where we thought the emperor might have sat to watch the spectacles.

I plopped down onto the seat and waved an imaginary fan. “Oh, Claudius, you simply
must
let him live!” I exclaimed in a wretched British accent.

“Julia, er…” He twirled an imaginary mustache. “We must escape because English aliens have invaded from the future and taken over your mind.”

“No, my dear, this is simply how everyone talked long ago.” I tried to keep a straight face, but the giggles took over.

He held out his hand for me, even though we both knew I couldn’t grab it. “Come, let us…away? And go to the Vatican for to see—gosh, I can’t keep this up. Ready to hit the rest of the town?”

I grinned. “Indeed, let us away!”

So we “awayed” to the Sistine Chapel to see Michelangelo’s famous artwork. We laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. I kept squirming because it seemed strange to lie down without my wings interfering, but since it wasn’t real, I couldn’t feel anything anyway.

Jack’s shoulder should have been touching mine, but he was pixels and air. I stared at the side of his face, longing for him to truly materialize. He turned his head, his deep brown eyes holding mine.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I hesitated. “I wish this was real.”

A laugh pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Well, if it was real, then we would be getting trampled by tourists right now.”

At any other time, I would have laughed, but my emotions were too close to the surface. “No, I mean, I wish it was all real. I wish ‘here’ was real, with no one else around. Just us. And all of this art.” I traced the outline of God’s finger with my eyes. “Maybe if we prayed hard enough.” But I didn’t really believe that.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever wish you had different parents? Or that you were born into a different family?”

“I used to. When my dad died, I got really jealous of the other kids I knew. I didn’t think it was fair that they still had their dads and mine was gone. When the war ended, it just got worse, especially since everyone was always complaining about how hard things were.” He shook his head. “I would have gone without food for weeks if it meant I got my dad back.”

We were quiet for a moment.

“Can I ask how he died?”

“He was infantry for the Northern Reconstructionists in the Second Civil War. He died a couple of months before they struck the ceasefire agreement. Hit by a grenade.”

“I’m sorry. How old were you?”

“Eleven. My mom remarried one year later. That didn’t work out real well. He was an abusive loser. After he left, my mom started drinking. I’ll never forgive him for that.” His face hardened, and I drew away. He had shut me out along with everything else.

I rolled my head to look at the ceiling and waited for him to say something. Moments ticked by in silence, and my mind wandered. I thought about all of the times I’d wished for real parents and siblings. It had never occurred to me that my life might have been even lonelier and harder if I’d gotten my wish. Or, if not more difficult, a different sort of difficult.

Jack’s words interrupted my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“I prayed for…different parents when I was a kid. Maybe it’s better that my prayer wasn’t answered.”

“Are your mom and dad really that bad?”

I snorted, unsure of how to phrase my situation in a way he would understand. “Um, they’re not really involved in my life at all. I wanted parents like yours were, who were still married and actually cared about me.” My throat began to tighten up. “At least your dad loved you. You’ll always have that.”

“I’m sure they love you in their own way.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it then.”

“I just wanted to be normal,” I blurted out. “I wanted a family that celebrated holidays and had big, noisy reunions. I wanted to have dinner every night with them after school.”