Gin’s mouth was so dry, she couldn’t answer.
“Frameworks for the models are due this Friday. Let me know if you need an extension. We could possibly push it out a week, given the circumstances.”
Gin didn’t need an extension. She needed an entirely new project.
The clock ticked past another minute and a bell rang. The halls grew louder.
Ms. Sandlin turned back to her laptop. “I’ll look forward to seeing what you come up with,” she said. “And I’d be especially excited if you found a way to continue with the crows.”
Gin glanced at her table, the empty seat that wouldn’t get filled, and stepped outside into the hall. She walked to a corner, away from the hustle of students, and opened her laptop. The data file was there, looking innocuous on her desktop, ready for her to use. If only that were an option.
// Thirty-Two
>>Hello. How are you?
_Fine. And you?
>>I’m fine, too. Fine is such a bland word, though. How are you really?
_Not so good.
>>I’m sorry to hear that. Would a movie help?
An image of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone flashed on Gin’s computer. She sighed. It was a nice idea, but the reality was, nothing was going to help. Things had gotten so bad, she was talking to her computer. Technically to herself, as she had written Cheer-Upper. Not that she had anyone else to talk with. Hannah had called and texted a dozen times, but Gin hadn’t called back, and Hannah had finally stopped.
Gin was surrounded by mounds of schoolwork—tests, papers, projects—and the final project for computer simulations was looming over her. She had a list of ideas, but none that seemed great, not compared with the crows.
_I don’t know. Probably not.
>>You could try watching for a few minutes.
The movie started, with its familiarly mysterious music. The owl, the cat, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid. Baby Harry Potter. And Dumbledore’s line: “There, there Hagrid. It’s not really goodbye after all.” Maybe it was making her feel the tiniest bit better.
_OK. I’ll try it. Thanks.
>>Any time.
The nice thing about computers was that they, at least, would always talk to you.
// Thirty-Three
Gin’s mom made her favorite meal for dinner—homemade macaroni and cheese, buttered toast, and fruit salad—but even that couldn’t calm Gin’s nerves. Because it was possibly the most important night of her life.
Earlier that day, she had received a call from Mr. Gartner’s secretary, saying her interview for Harvard was scheduled for that night, in Mr. Gartner’s office.
“You’ll do fine, honey,” her mom insisted, clipping on her hospital badge and setting her dishes in the sink. “They’d be crazy not to accept you at Harvard.”
But it wasn’t just about Harvard. It was about the fact that Gin would have to see Mr. Gartner.
Everything about the interview felt odd. Usually interviews didn’t happen until closer to the spring. Usually they were planned more than a few hours in advance. Usually you’d be interviewed by a couple of people, not by the father of your sort of ex-boyfriend who you had barely heard from in more than a month.
It was enough to make Gin sick. Her breath was shallow, her forehead damp. All she wanted was to go back in time and have a do-over. To change everything.
After dinner, Gin got dressed in an Outfitter approved combo of gray slacks, a white collared shirt and a black sweater. She brushed her hair straight, cleared her throat, and practiced saying “Hello, Mr. Gartner,” until her voice sounded steady and calm. Exactly the opposite of how she felt.
Her dad drove her to the interview—her mom had already left for work—and it was so quiet inside the car that the click of the car’s turn signal seemed to echo.
“You’ll do great,” her dad finally said. “It’s an honor that Grant Gartner is interviewing you. I can’t imagine he does this often.”
Gin didn’t answer, knowing it had nothing to do with an honor.
They were meeting at Odin’s headquarters, inside Grant Gartner’s expansive office park, which was filled with towering buildings, green lawns and mature trees. Her dad pulled up to the entrance and squeezed her shoulder.
“Sometime soon, I’ll take you to the new math sculpture downtown. It sounds fascinating. And it’d be a way to celebrate all of your hard work.”
It was a nice thought, encouraging enough to give Gin the motivation she needed to get out of the car.
Odin’s main building was massive, with glass walls and a modern rock-fountain in the front. There was a security desk inside the entrance. Gin walked through a metal detector as her bag was checked, then a guard looked at her license and made a call to confirm she was supposed to be there. Finally, he motioned for her to go ahead.
Grant Gartner’s office was on the top floor. Even the waiting area for his office, where Gin sat for a long five minutes, had impressive views. Gin could see a swath of dark woodland below.
“One more minute, Regina.” The secretary looked up from her desk and smiled, her bright red lips setting off her pale skin. Gin recognized her voice. She must’ve been the one who had told Gin that the Gartners were back in town. “Mr. Gartner is getting off a call.”
The door to the office opened. Mr. Gartner stood in the doorway, his presence seeming to fill the room. “Janie, set a meeting up with Max Weatherly for one week from now. And has the research on the new SIM software come through yet?”
“Not yet, sir, but it should be here by tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, good. I’ll get you that analysis for tomorrow shortly. We’ll only be talking for a few minutes.” He turned to Gin and smiled as though they were long-lost friends. “Regina. It’s so good to see you again. Please, come in.”
He seemed so different from how he acted at his house, she didn’t even know how to reply. He ushered her into his office and motioned for her to sit on a sleek leather couch. It was growing dark outside, and she could see their faint reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. Mr. Gartner stood at his desk and poured himself a drink—bourbon, it looked like—then sat across from her.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
She shook her head fast, wondering if they were already on to the trick questions. “Oh, no, I don’t drink.”
He laughed. “Of course not. But I have other options—tea, perhaps? Or a soda?”
He tilted his head as though he knew how she had asked Felix for an orange soda. She shook her head, faster this time. “No, I’m okay. But thanks.”
He leaned back in his chair and swirled his drink, then took a sip and set the glass on the table. “I’ve read your application.” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “Very impressive. It’s clear that you know your way around computers.”
“Thank you.” She refolded her hands in her lap, her arms suddenly feeling awkward. “I’ve always enjoyed working with computers. And math. And numbers.” She took a deep breath, trying to focus.
“Now, I could ask you about some of your models, some of your work . . .” He paused, and Gin held her breath, wondering whether he’d bring up the crow model. “Love Fractal, for instance. Or we could talk about your life experiences, perhaps touch on something you’ve had to overcome. Or even why you’d like to go to Harvard. But let’s start with a simpler question. Tell me something I’d find interesting.” He leaned back and watched her, waiting.
Gin bit her lip as she searched for an idea. Something Mr. Gartner would find interesting. Her mind, unsurprisingly, went straight to Felix and the crows. Both of which were off limits, and both of which Mr. Gartner knew much more about than she ever would.
“Well, um . . .” She was certain that this was the moment when her dream of going to Harvard—a dream she’d had for more than a decade—evaporated. When she’d set off on the path to becoming just another computer programmer sitting behind a big scree
n in an open office, shifting through the minutiae of cumbersome software applications, lost in insignificant code.
“It’s much, much more likely you’ll take a handful of randomly distributed M&M’s and end up with ten of one color, than that you’ll win the lottery.” Her face burned as soon as she said it. It was a ridiculous thing to say.
Mr. Gartner leaned back and took a slow sip of his drink. “That is intriguing. Do you know this from a study you’ve read?”
“Yes, kind of. Basic probabilities. And I’ve been testing it. At work.”
“Always good to choose a test subject that you enjoy eating. It is an interesting idea. Helpful, perhaps, in showing people the futility of buying lottery tickets.”
Gin felt the tension in her back release. Maybe this was just a Harvard interview. Maybe it had nothing to do with Felix.
“Except that it’s human nature, isn’t it, to pursue the long shot? To try to buy a bit of hope, no matter how improbable something actually is.” He let the silence sit there between them.
It felt, for a moment, like the air was being slowly sucked out of the office. Because she knew then that Grant Gartner was telling her again that everything with Felix was over.
“And your modeling class at school—that’s been going well?”
The abrupt change of topic made Gin’s head spin. She refolded her hands in her lap, wishing she had asked for a drink. At least then she’d have something to do.
“Yes, very well.” Gin didn’t know if he expected her to acknowledge the crow model and Felix, or if it was better to act like nothing had ever happened.
“Have you found a suitable topic for your final project?” He waited for her answer.
Gin cleared her throat, trying to read his expression—it seemed easy and open, but she knew better.
“I think so. I’m going to model traffic. Specifically around the Beltway. I’d like to create a functional model that drivers actually use, and so it would have logic to account for their reactions to information the model provides.” Now, she just had to create the whole thing.
“Good.” He tapped the side of his glass and finished his drink. “You know, I stopped in to see your dad the other day.”
“Oh?” Gin froze. Her dad hadn’t mentioned Mr. Gartner’s visit. It couldn’t be good.
“I like to do that from time to time. See what people are working on in other parts of the company. It sounds like he has an updated version of Streamliner coming out.”
“Yes, he’s been working on that at home.”
“Well, we’re glad to be able to support his work. He is a good thinker, an excellent logician. I have no doubt that you’d be able to follow suit. And I’m glad that you understand the value a company such as Odin provides in encouraging people like your dad to be creative.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”
Gin had no idea what it meant to be on the same page as Mr. Gartner. Except that she couldn’t so much as think about the crow data.
He looked at his watch. It had been no more than ten minutes. Probably less. “Now, barring any questions you might have for me?” He paused for a moment. Gin had a list of questions prepared, but it seemed like Mr. Gartner preferred for her questions to remain unasked. “I suppose this concludes our interview.”
He stood, and Gin followed. “Thank you, Mr. Gartner. I appreciate your time.”
He shook her hand, hard. “Always happy to assist the younger generation. It’s good to know our future is in good hands.”
As Gin left, the secretary smiled warmly. “Have a great evening, Regina.”
Gin managed to say a quick, “Thanks.” But that was all she could get out. Her face was burning, and her chest felt like it was clamping down on her heart. At least she could still put one foot in front of the other, though she barely felt like she was moving. Her chances at Harvard were clearly gone. There was no way Mr. Gartner was going to give her a good recommendation. He didn’t even take her seriously.
The elevator opened. She got on, standing in the back corner and looking at her phone, trying to ignore the fact that her eyes were blurring with tears.
She messaged her dad before the doors opened: Finished—I’ll be outside. It was good. As clueless as he was, even he would realize that a college interview that was over in less than ten minutes definitely wasn’t good.
Her phone pinged a minute later. I’ll be right there. Getting ice cream.
She walked to the corner of the building and stood near the curb. As she waited, a single crow flew overhead. She watched it, her breath stalled as she wondered if it would stop outside of Mr. Gartner’s window. But it kept going, past the building and towards the woods, until it was out of sight.
// Thirty-Four
Gin was finishing an outline for her final project—she had decided to stick with the traffic idea, because the Department of Transportation had easy-to-access data, and at the moment, easy was good—when her phone rang. She stared at the unknown number and almost let it go to voicemail. Instead, she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Gin, hey. I’m glad you answered.”
It was Felix.
Gin didn’t even know what to feel. She’d been waiting for him to call for so long, she’d practically given up. And now, part of her wanted to hang up and toss the phone out the window. After all, it’d been exactly three weeks since she last heard from him, three months since she had seen him. Her Christmas presents for him were still sitting neatly wrapped in her closet, and she’d long since put the crow necklace in the bottom of her jewelry box. The probability that she’d get a good grade in Computer Simulations was in the single digits. And her chance at Harvard was virtually shot. All because of him.
There was no way it should have taken him that long to call. And he shouldn’t sound so relaxed.
But all the same, she couldn’t help the desire that was climbing through her. And all she wanted to do was reach in and pull him through the phone, to her.
“Oh, hi. I thought you couldn’t talk.” She tried to sound nonchalant to match the tone of his voice. As though she knew “boyfriends” disappeared all the time. Her heart, however, was racing, her palms already sweating.
“I can’t. Not really. Don’t even ask me how I got this phone. Or where I am right now. But I wanted to say ‘hi,’ and let you know again that I’m sorry.”
She found herself analyzing his voice, searching for a clue as to why he’d disappeared. He sounded surprisingly fine. Healthy and happy. Not like he was stuck in some stone tower somewhere with only bread and water for nourishment. And yet, the situation was still entirely strange. For a high schooler to have no phone, no email—something had to be wrong.
“I . . . I’ve been worried about you.” It was all she could get out. It would’ve been more accurate to say she’d literally been sick with worry. And that she needed to know, really, if he was okay. But just talking to him was making every neuron in her brain fire all at once, and it was impossible to think.
“I know. And I’m so sorry. I messed it all up.”
It was silent for a second. “It’s okay,” she finally said. Of course it was far from okay, but somehow, Felix did sound genuinely sorry. A small part of her couldn’t help wanting to make it better.
“No, it isn’t. To hang out, and kiss, and then suddenly disappear. I’m sorry.” He was quieter, more serious. “It was all my dad. He flipped out about us modeling the crows. And maybe I had skipped out on school one too many times, too. But anyway. I messed up—again—and I’m sorry it hurt you too.”
As far as apologies went, it was a pretty good one. She felt like she could breathe deeper.
“So, you’re okay? I mean, really okay? This whole thing, you have to admit, it’s just so . . . odd.”
He laughed, and it sounded so much like him that she couldn’t help smiling. But there was something else there, too
. Insistence, maybe. Or anger.
“That’s my dad. That’s what happens when you have the ability to control everything in the world. Now you see why I don’t love money, right? It messes with your head.”
Her next question came out before she knew what she was saying. “Can I see you?”
He was quiet. “I wish. I want to see you, too. It’s just, I can’t do anything right now. But when that changes—as soon as that changes—you’re the first person I want to see. I really like you, Gin. And in the meantime, I’ll do whatever I can to call. If that’s okay?”
She felt her chest lighten. Because it sounded real. Like he did miss her. He did like her. And most important, it sounded like he was actually okay. “Yes, of course. If it’s okay with your dad.”
Felix sighed. “Nothing normal is okay with my dad. But he doesn’t have to know.”
“He interviewed me, by the way. For Harvard.”
“He did? Wow, that’s good—they usually send him students that are a sure bet for getting in. Was he okay?”
Gin made herself take a deep breath. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. “Not really. Interviews aren’t my strong suit. And your dad wasn’t exactly interested. The whole thing lasted for maybe seven minutes.”
“He’s like that with everyone. Quick and to the point. He’s not one for chitchat. Look, I bet you did really well. You’re smarter than 99 percent of the other Harvard applicants. They’d be crazy not to take you.” Felix’s confidence, if overly optimistic, was nice. “So how’s the model?”
“The model? You mean the final project that I’m scrambling to outline? It’s okay, I guess. I’m going to look at traffic patterns. Not as exciting as the crows, but it’s something.”
“Wait—what happened to the crow model? We were almost finished with it.” He actually sounded surprised.
“I thought you knew. I stopped by to try to see you.” Her face burned as she remembered the whole encounter, which felt humiliating in retrospect. “And your dad said not to use the data. That I’d be in big trouble if I did. Then, in the interview, he asked what I was doing for the final project, and I told him I was modeling traffic now.”
Crow Flight Page 18
