She shut her mouth to stop the words from pouring out.
The maid nodded. “I understand. And I’m sure that Mr. Felix would appreciate your concern. But unfortunately, he is not accepting visitors right now.”
Gin’s heart beat harder, but her entire body felt suddenly cold. So he was here. Close. Not halfway around the world, stuck in a jungle somewhere. But here.
“I just wanted to see him once. I’d be quick. I think . . . I think he’d want to see me. Could you ask him?”
The maid glanced behind her. “Okay. I will check with Mr. Felix.” She opened the door wider, so Gin could step in. “Please wait here.”
The maid looked around again and hurried up the stairs. Halfway up, she glanced back, making sure that Gin hadn’t moved.
Which, of course, she hadn’t. Gin felt frozen, arms uncomfortably clasped in front of her, trying to slow her breath, telling herself there was probably a simple explanation for everything.
There was a clatter of footsteps down the stairs, and for a second, Gin’s heart leapt, sure it was Felix. It definitely wasn’t the maid—this person was too fast, too heavy. But then she saw the shiny leather loafers and pressed slacks.
And by the time her mind finally understood that it was not Felix skipping downstairs to see her, to give her a hug and tell her he had missed her, Mr. Gartner was there, standing in front her. “Hello, Gin. I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here.”
His words were sharp, his eyes steely.
“I’m sorry. I . . . I . . .” Her voice was too small.
Mr. Gartner narrowed his eyes, face emotionless, as though each of her words was wasting his time.
“I just wanted to see if . . . if everything was okay,” she said. “With Felix. Because he hasn’t been at school. Or texted, or anything. And I was worried.”
“I’m sorry, I assumed Felix had called you. Let me assure you, you have no reason to be concerned.” His voice was calm and controlled as though it were ridiculous for Gin to even ask. “Felix is fine. But he has had a change in his schooling and will not be at school for a while, possibly the remainder of the year. Again, I regret that he wasn’t able to tell you himself.”
Gin felt her stomach drop. “But, we have a project.”
“Yes, the project.” Mr. Gartner stepped closer, drawing out the word “project” as though it were a silly child’s game. “Felix has informed me of this project. And I have made it clear that neither he nor you will be allowed to pursue it further. The data that you were using is private. Proprietary knowledge. The only moral and legally sound course of action is for you to delete whatever files you may have and accept that this work is no longer an option. Then, you begin a new project.”
“But,” Gin said, her face flushed, “the model was going to be good. We spent so much time on it already. And, it’d be useful, something that someone might actually want to see. And—”
“That’s quite enough, Ms. Hartson. I am sorry for the inconvenience. But if you take any further steps on this model, I can promise you that there will be repercussions. And due to the reach of my little company, those repercussions might impact more than you.”
All the fight and energy drained out of Gin, leaving a thick, sticky fear.
He gave a quick smile, the type that didn’t touch his eyes, and opened the door. “Now, I don’t know the nature of your and Felix’s relationship, but I mean to make this clear as well: Felix is not interested in seeing you right now. I apologize if that sounds harsh.”
Gin’s face was burning, and the ground suddenly felt unsteady. Like it would buckle up and toss her to the side.
“I’ll give Felix your regards. And there’s no need to try to let yourself in again. I wasn’t aware that Felix had added you to our guest list, and I’m afraid that list needs to be updated.” He was walking closer to her, and she had no choice but to back up and step out of the house. “Oh, and I’ll look forward to meeting with you for your Harvard interview. I don’t believe they’ve let you know yet, but you’ve made it past the first round of reviews. Congratulations.”
The door closed, the dark heavy wood still and secure. As though it would never open again.
Maybe she was going crazy.
As Gin drove out of the estate, along the wooded roads, she knew she needed to talk with someone. But there was no one to call. Hannah was at a movie with Noah and her phone was off. Gin’s dad was still at work, her sister was no doubt at a party, and her mom was working or studying or both.
Not that she could talk with any of her family about this. But they at least cared about her, which counted for something. Her mom would be understanding, she was sure of it. And her dad was usually logical, so could maybe tease out some reason in this situation. Even if it was all unreasonable.
Mr. Gartner’s threats. His admonition about using the data, as though there was something there, something no one should see. The way the maid had watched her. The crows, which, from the beginning, may have been the strangest of all.
But worst of all, worse even than the fact that Felix may not come back to school, was that he didn’t want to see Gin. It was logically possible that Mr. Gartner had exaggerated that part. Except for the fact that Felix hadn’t made any effort to reach her.
Gin’s chest ached. Tears ran down her face, slipped off her chin. She had to get herself together.
She pulled off on a side street. There were no houses around, just rolling woods as far as she could see. And she set her timer. Five minutes of breathing. She started, one shaky breath at a time, trying to calm herself. Count to four on the inhale, count to eight on the exhale, again, and again.
But it wasn’t working. It was too quiet. And it was darker since the sun was almost down. The horizon blushed with a light pink-orange, split by black silhouettes of trees. Her tears blurred everything. She couldn’t stop them, not inside the car, with her stupid timer counting down the seconds that she wasn’t with Felix.
She opened the car door and the cool air was a relief. Gravel crunched under her feet, and without knowing what she was doing, she walked into the woods. She pulled her sweatshirt tight around her and sat down on the ground, which was thick with old, dry leaves. The trees towered above her, their tips catching the last bit of light until they, too, were wrapped in hazy twilight.
The woods seemed to grow around her, expanding as darkness fell. She listened to the forest: rustles, scampers, clicks of branches. It smelled like wet dirt and decaying plants and winter. The sky darkened.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that this was not the sort of thing a girl should be doing—to park off a side street and sit in the woods, alone, at dusk.
And that’s when she noticed the bird.
It was perched further back in the woods, maybe ten yards away. Shimmery black, with a wide chest and thick beak. A crow.
It tilted its head so one black eye peered down at her. Their gazes held, girl and crow. Watching each other. The woods were so quiet, as though everything else had faded away.
And then the bird pulled back its wings and opened its beak wide.
“CAW! Ke-AWWW! CAW!”
Gin scrambled backwards, her hands pressing into the leaves, into the dirt, moving herself away, fast.
The bird cawed again and opened its wings. In a whoosh, it took off into the settling night, flying away.
Gin sat there, watching it go, her heart pounding in her chest. Then she ran to her car. She slid inside and turned the car on, the engine roaring in the quiet night. She switched on the headlights, did a tight U-turn, and headed back to the main road. Only once she was there did she venture a quick glance back at the woods. And all she saw were shadows.
// Twenty-Nine
That night, Gin barely slept. Her dreams were littered with crows. Clouds of crows that filled the sky, swooping down and grazing her with strangely sharp wings.
When it was early morning, still dark, she ope
ned her laptop and moved the crow data file into the trash. There was no way she could touch it now, not after what Mr. Gartner had said. She brewed a pot of strong coffee, poured a mug, and drove to Hannah’s house.
It was 6:05 a.m. when she got there. Early, but Hannah’s mother was always up early. And sure enough, it was Hannah’s mother who answered the door. She was dressed in yoga clothes, her blonde hair pulled into a low side ponytail. Her face knit up with concern when she saw Gin.
“Gin, how are you? Is everything okay?”
Gin made an effort to relax her face. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry to come by so early. I just needed to see Hannah. Is that okay?”
“Of course, come in.” Hannah’s mom glanced up the stairs. “Hannah’s still sleeping. But she could use an early wakeup call. Why don’t you go ahead and go on up. Unless you’d like breakfast first?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Gin started up the steps, suddenly feeling calmer. Hannah would make sense of everything.
Hannah’s room was still dark, and it took Gin a second to see Hannah in the pile of sheets and blankets.
“Hannah,” Gin whispered, but Hannah didn’t move. “Hannah,” she said louder, shaking Hannah’s arm. Finally Hannah groaned and turned to her side.
“What? Is it time?” She mumbled the words, her eyes blinking open, and falling back heavy.
“Hannah, wake up. I need to ask you something.”
Hannah rubbed her eyes and scrunched her face as she looked at Gin. Then she sat up, fast. “Oh my gosh—something’s wrong. Are you okay? What happened?”
Gin shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I just need your opinion.”
Hannah scooted over, and Gin sat next to her, pulling the comforter around her.
And Gin told her everything. About how she called Mr. Gartner’s secretary, only to learn that the Gartners were in town. About how she went to Felix’s house. About how Mr. Gartner said Felix may not come back to school, and that Gin had to stop using the crow data. And how Felix didn’t even want to see her. At that part, Gin’s eyes teared up.
“I don’t get it,” Gin said. “I don’t know if I did something, or if Mr. Gartner is even telling the truth, or . . . It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“It doesn’t.” Hannah’s eyes were wide. She pushed her tangly hair out of her face. “It’s really, really weird. But, maybe it’s in the realm of possibilities. I mean, Felix changed schools before, right? And his whole lifestyle, it’s different. His family could take off and live anywhere at any time they wanted.” She paused, quiet. “I think you need to try to talk with Felix. And maybe, be prepared for whatever he says. I mean, nothing happened with you guys before, right? He didn’t act upset or mad or—”
Gin took a sharp breath and shook her head. “No way. There was nothing.”
“And you’ve been dating for only a few weeks, right?”
Gin cringed. They had only been dating for a few weeks. Not long enough for Felix to owe her explanations about his life.
“Look, Felix doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would disappear and not even say a thing. Maybe he’s grounded or something. What’s your gut say?”
“My gut? Right now . . .” she paused, put her hands on her stomach. “Nothing. My gut says nothing.”
“Hopefully he’ll call you soon. I’d give it another week.”
The way Hannah said it, it sounded halfway reasonable. Maybe Gin had blown everything out of proportion.
“I’m sorry, Gin. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Thanks. I better head home. Can’t go to school like this, right?” She looked down at her pajamas.
“Who says?” Hannah squeezed her arm. “It could pass as ’90s grunge. Flannel pajama pants and all.”
Gin gave a small smile.
“I’ll see you at school,” Hannah said. “Okay?”
For that moment, at least, everything did feel possibly okay.
The moment didn’t last. All week, everything was off. Gin was forgetting tests and papers and homework. Leaving her laptop at home. Oversleeping. A few teachers asked if she was sick. Even her mom had skipped part of a class so she could take Gin out for sushi and ask her question after question about whether anything was wrong.
Of course something was wrong. Not that she could tell her mom. Even if she could, she wouldn’t know what to say, because she didn’t know what had happened. And she hated not knowing.
If Felix had called or texted or emailed—anything—she’d at least know something. Like whether he was okay. Whether Mr. Gartner was a jerk or actually was hiding something about the crows. And whether everything that had happened between Gin and Felix was even real.
She checked her phone constantly. Each time, her heart beat a little faster. Each time, when there was nothing from Felix, she felt let down all over again.
Friday night, her dad made popcorn. “I know that Mom is better with this stuff.” He set the bowl of popcorn, which smelled of hot oil and melted butter, on the coffee table. “But she’s not home until tomorrow morning. So, is there anything going on that you want to talk about?” The light from the television flickered on his face, over his worried eyes.
“No, everything’s fine. I’m just overloaded with school. It’s nothing to worry about.” Then she had a thought—maybe her dad could help. “Actually, remember how I told you I was doing a project with Grant Gartner’s son?”
“That’s right. He’s the one you’ve been hanging out with, right? How’s that going?”
“Not well. Felix had to leave school, and now I’m stuck with a project I can’t do—Mr. Gartner said we couldn’t use the data—and it’s kind of a mess.” She rubbed her eyes, hard, and tried to keep her voice from cracking.
Her dad tapped his chin. “What was the project about?”
“Crows. The ones the Gartners train. We had all this great data, and the model was almost finished. But now I’m going to have to start over. And I still don’t get it—why would Felix suddenly be yanked out of school?” Her voice was rising, turning nearly hysterical, and she felt her eyes tearing up with frustration. Even her dad noticed; he leaned closer and narrowed his eyes, trying to better understand.
“Anyway.” She made her voice calmer. Everything would be worse if her dad got worked up. “I didn’t know if you had heard anything about the Gartners. If anything had changed, or . . .”
“No, I haven’t heard anything like that.” Gin’s dad put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s too bad about your project. I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure Mr. Gartner is challenging at times, but that does sound a bit unreasonable. I could try to get him a message, if that would help?”
Gin shook her head. That would only make everything worse.
“Well, you’re smart. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He glanced at his phone. “Pizza should be ready. I’m going to pick it up—and I’ll grab some frozen custard on the way back. Vanilla and chocolate? Oh, and I think you got a message. Maybe Hannah called?” He set her phone on the table and left.
The message was bright in the dark living room. Gin’s heart stopped as she read it once. Then again, and again.
Because it was from Felix.
// Thirty
He had written. Actually thought of her and typed a message and sent it. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? If only his words made more sense.
Gin, I’m so sorry I had to disappear. My dad changed up the rules—he’s good at doing that. Everything should calm down in a few weeks, but for now, I’m laying low. No technology for me—imagine that. I found a way to send this, but you won’t be able to text back. I wish I could explain everything. And see you. But I can’t. I just want you to know that I wish I could. I’m sorry. And, I’m sorry I can’t help with the model. Good luck. Felix
She stared at the words, wondering what they meant. Grant Gartner keeping his only son from all technology. Felix not being able to call her
, much less see her. And even though he said he wanted to see her, it didn’t feel like enough. He sounded so casual about the model. Of course, she needed more than good luck. She needed an entirely new project.
She texted back, right away. Felix, if you’re there, call me. Please. But the message didn’t go through. She tried a second time, and a third time. And she tried to call. Nothing worked.
The room suddenly felt too small, but there was nowhere to go. That’s when she started crying. Crying for the fact that she still had no idea what was going on with Felix. Crying for what wasn’t in Felix’s text: that he missed being with her so much, he’d do whatever it took to make sure they could still be together.
Minutes passed, one after another, until her face was wet and her throat was raw. Crying made everything worse. And it made her mad. Mad at Felix for disappearing. Mad at Mr. Gartner for making her abandon a good project.
She went upstairs and sat in front of her computer. And before she could change her mind, she was dragging the crow data file out of the trash and onto her desktop. Maybe the answer to everything was in the data. Maybe she hadn’t looked hard enough.
The data went back five years. There were time-stamped GPS coordinates for all the birds. Details on their body temperatures and weights. Records of every training session, every movement. Piles and piles of numbers.
She had already analyzed the data. But this time, she would keep her focus tight: the movements of one bird during one day.
Minutes later, she had built a map. A simple one that overlaid Catherine’s movements over the course of one day a few months earlier onto a satellite image of Northern Virginia and DC. The first part of the day wasn’t surprising. Catherine was in the aviary, her movements confined to the woods around Felix’s house. She covered a wide area but returned often to what seemed to be her favorite spots.
Crow Flight Page 16
