The School for the Insanely Gifted

by Dan Elish

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ignatious cried, “I give you the winner of the Insanity Cup!”

  As the crowd cheered even louder, Cynthia bowed. Daphna’s legs felt like two sticks of rubber. Had her friend—the girl who had flown with her all the way to Africa—really gone over to the dark side?

  “Cynthia!” Daphna shouted.

  The actress finally looked her way. As the two friends locked eyes, a small ray of hope burned through Daphna. Yes, Cynthia was a superb actress. But underneath the confident and polished veneer, Daphna thought she saw a twinge of guilt. Maybe her old friend would listen to reason?

  “Please,” Daphna said. “Tell us it isn’t true.”

  “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Cynthia said. “Ignatious explained it all to me.”

  “Ignatious?” Harkin said.

  “The X-Head is good for the world,” Cynthia went on. “It’ll allow people all over the world—poor people—to have access to computers. Billy was keeping the technology to himself. Ignatious is doing a good thing.”

  “Ignatious wants to control everyone’s mind,” Daphna said. “And he’s already halfway there. Look!”

  She waved at the crowd. At first glance, the onlookers appeared perfectly normal, innocently cheering Ignatious. With a closer look, Daphna saw it. The vacant stares. The incurious expressions. It was as though the populace of New York had been turned into ghosts of their real selves, partly aware of their surroundings but mostly lost in a world of websites.

  When Daphna looked back at Cynthia, she saw that no amount of theatrical training could keep the alarm out of her friend’s eyes.

  “See?” Daphna said.

  “They’re already zombies!” Thelma cried.

  “Not zombies,” Ignatious said, waving his hands. “They’re merely online, enjoying the multitudinous benefits of the X-Head.” He rustled in his pockets and pulled out a small package. “In fact, Cynthia dear, isn’t it time that you tried on a pair?”

  “Get those away from her,” Harkin said.

  Cynthia took a step toward the crowd, realizing for the first time what she had done.

  “Listen,” Daphna said. “I know how much your one-woman Macbeth means to you. But I also know that you aren’t a person who wants to be remembered for helping Ignatious Peabody Blatt take over the city. Just hang in there. You’ll find another producer.”

  “You can still make this right,” Harkin said.

  Ignatious grabbed Cynthia’s arm. “Enough of this idle chitchat. The girl has a performance to give.”

  “Not so fast.” Cynthia pulled herself away. “I need to think.”

  “Think?” Ignatious cried. “There’s nothing to think about. We had an agreement, Miss Trustwell. Don’t you want to see your show on Broadway? Now come! Cody Meyers is waiting!”

  He pushed Cynthia toward the studio, but Harkin cut her off.

  “You know what you have to do.” He leaned close. “Remember what happened on the Thunkmobile?”

  Cynthia wrinkled her brow. “The Thunkmobile? When?”

  “On the way to Kilimanjaro.”

  Daphna was just as confused as Cynthia.

  “When Daphna played her music,” Harkin said.

  Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said. “You mean . . . ?”

  “Enough!” Ignatious called.

  “That’ll never work!” Daphna said.

  “Yes, it will.” Harkin gestured to the crowd. “Look at them!”

  Daphna turned in a slow circle. The free X-Heads had done their work quickly. Nearly everyone in the crowd was multitasking, looking at the confrontation between Ignatious and the children but reading or scrolling through websites at the same time.

  “And you think that I can fix this?” Daphna asked.

  “Maybe not,” Harkin said. “But after I woke out of the trance your music created, I had never felt better. Never.”

  “Me neither,” Cynthia said.

  “Mrs. Zoentrope is right,” Harkin went on. “Your music has the power to heal.”

  Daphna looked helplessly to the crowd. “But heal an entire city?”

  “Why not?” Harkin said.

  Ignatious blinked nervously. “This is absurd! Hurry, Cynthia!”

  Cynthia walked right by Ignatious and stepped directly up to a reporter’s microphone.

  “An announcement, if you please,” she said. “Yes, I was declared the winner of the Insanity Cup. It’s true. But it’s also true that I didn’t win it fairly. So I would hereby like to give my opportunity to perform on Cody Meyers to the student who really deserves it. The most insanely gifted of them all. The greatest composer in the city. Give a big round of applause to Daphna Whispers!”

  “Good girl!” Billy called.

  “Wait!” Ignatious cried. “No!”

  “You heard it here, folks!” a reporter yelled above the noise of the crowd. “Trustwell gives away her spot!”

  Daphna looked at Cynthia.

  “Really?”

  Her friend nodded. “Do your thing.” Cynthia glanced at the crowd, then back at Daphna. “Just promise you’ll try to forgive me when this is all over?”

  Daphna knew that what her friend had done was unspeakable. On the other hand, her instincts told her that Cynthia was truly remorseful.

  “I promise,” she said.

  “Good,” Cynthia said. “Now go play.”

  Ignatious was there, blocking her path.

  “Not so fast,” he said. Daphna could see a thin trickle of sweat on his forehead. “You’ve forgotten that Cody Meyers will never let anyone perform without my permission.”

  “Very true,” a reporter cried. “Meyers has to okay the winner!”

  “Who cares?” Billy bellowed.

  Daphna wheeled around. The large man was staring Ignatious straight in the eye.

  “She doesn’t need Cody Meyers. She can play right here!”

  Ignatious blinked. “What?”

  Daphna was just as confused as Ignatious.

  “What will she play on?” Thelma asked. “The curb?”

  “No, I got it!” a police officer cried. “She’ll play a fire hydrant!”

  “No,” Billy announced. “She’ll play on this.”

  With that, the great man reached into his long coat and pulled out what appeared to be a twisted piece of metal.

  “You heard it here, friends!” a reporter shouted. “Daphna Whispers will play an eggbeater!”

  “No,” Billy said. He reached back into his pocket. “I meant this!”

  He pulled out a small blue laptop.

  “What is it?” Daphna asked.

  “It’s a Frisbee!” someone shouted. “Whispers is going to play a Frisbee!”

  Billy chuckled and flicked a switch on its side. With a bright brrrring, the computer sprang four legs. The crowd gasped. Then with three loud beeps, the computer opened and the keypad began to stretch.

  “Run for your life!” a reporter cried. “It’s alive!”

  As onlookers pushed, shoved, screamed, and pointed, Billy’s contraption hissed twice. Then, with a final brrrring, the numbers and letters on the keypad turned into the eighty-eight keys of a keyboard.

  “Meet Piano-Top,” Billy called.

  “I told you!” a reporter cried. “He is a magician!”

  “No,” Harkin said, laughing. “He’s Billy B. Brilliant!”

  Everyone began pushing and shoving even harder, not to get away but to get a better view. While the police held the crowd at bay, Billy turned to Daphna.

  “You can do it,” he said. “Free the city from the spell of the X-Head.”

  Daphna swallowed hard. “You really think I can?”

  Billy nodded. “I know you can. Just like your mother used her sax to break us out of our little funk back in college.”

  Daphna sat at the piano and looked out at the crowd. What she saw took her breath away. Before her was the future, at least as Ignatious Peabody Blatt wanted it: a horde of people lo
oking at Daphna vacantly while simultaneously distracted by websites—a city full of citizens hours away from being under Blatt’s total control.

  The reporters jabbered away, more concerned with being loud than getting the facts straight.

  “That’s right, folks! Her name is Daphne Sisters!”

  “We hear her mom recently disappeared in a tragic skateboard accident!”

  “She lives in a studio apartment that morphs each night into a spaceship!”

  For a moment, Daphna was too amazed to move, awed by the task before her. Could her music really snap an entire population out of the X-Head’s spell? Terrified, Daphna thought of the person she cared about most: her mother. Wouldn’t she want Daphna to gather her courage and do her best?

  As TV cameras zoomed closer, Daphna sat up as straight as she could and heard the opening strain of her music in her head.

  Baa, baa, de, duh!

  Then, with a final look at the seemingly endless crowd, Daphna remembered something: She had never given her piece a title.

  “I call this Rhapsody for the City.”

  Daphna cleared her throat.

  She looked at Billy for support.

  She lifted her hands to play . . .

  . . . when a shadow fell over Piano-Top and a deafening whir filled the air. With a sharp gasp, Daphna looked up. Looming overhead was the red helicopter. A rope ladder dropped to her side.

  “Not so fast, Daphna Whispers!” Ignatious cried.

  And then she was in his arms. With a quick jerk, up the ladder flew. Billy, Harkin, Thelma, Cynthia, the reporters—everyone in the crowd—grew very small. Ignatious threw Daphna into the backseat of the mighty helicopter.

  “Fly!” Ignatious shouted to the pilot. “Fly!”

  Chapter 30

  The Chase

  Like all students at the Blatt School, Daphna had imagined being invited for a ride in Ignatious’s traveling office. But she had never imagined boarding the red helicopter under these circumstances or how extravagant the interior would be. Orange velvet lined the walls. The plush seats were embroidered with fine blue silk. A red curtain separated the backseats from the front. The windows were tinted light green. The rotor—thunderously loud from outside—was entirely muted within.

  “Nice, isn’t it?”

  As the giant machine rocketed upward, Ignatious slipped into the backseat next to her. Gone was Ignatious’s customary smooth polish. His smile was chilling. His eyes narrowed menacingly.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Daphna asked.

  “Don’t worry, dear. This will be a short flight.”

  A familiar voice came from the front.

  “Where to, boss?”

  Daphna’s eyes widened. Ignatious laughed again.

  “An old friend of yours.”

  He drew open the curtain. The antelope man without his mask turned from the pilot’s seat and smiled, revealing a row of uneven, chipped teeth. Daphna drew in a deep breath, remembering the first night they had met. It seemed years ago that he had broken into her apartment looking for the X-Head.

  “There she is,” he said. “The girl who booted me out a window.”

  “You broke into my apartment!”

  The antelope man didn’t respond but repeated his question to Ignatious: “Where to?”

  “Yeah, Dad. Where to already?”

  Daphna saw the yellow loafers.

  “Myron?”

  The boy looked back from the front passenger seat with a self-important smirk. “I’m Dad’s right-hand man now. Isn’t that right, Dad?”

  “Take us over the harbor,” Ignatious said to the antelope man.

  “Got it.”

  “The harbor?” Daphna asked. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “Why are we going there?”

  When Ignatious met her eyes, the old smile was back.

  “So sorry, Daphna, dear. But did you really think I’d let you ruin my fun?”

  “Fun?”

  “Yes, fun.” Ignatious’s eyes sparkled. “The X-Head! Didn’t you see how everyone was wearing it? Don’t forget, Daphna, I know everything that goes on in my school. I know about Mrs. Zoentrope’s trance. I even know what happened to your mother when she first heard ‘The Sad Sandbox.’ I can’t risk having your beautiful music break the spell of my X-Head. I have so many things to do!”

  “Things? What things?”

  Ignatious brushed a pinkie over his goatee, pushing down an errant hair. “Some little things and some bigger ones too. For instance, I thought it would be nice if everyone in the city addressed me as His All-Powerful Insanely Gifted Blatt.” He chuckled. “And besides that, well, I’ve always wanted to be mayor, isn’t that right, Myron?”

  “Right, Dad!”

  Daphna could feel the blood rushing through her temples.

  “Mayor?” she said. “What about Mayor Fiorello?”

  Ignatious waved a hand. “A mere inconvenience, my dear. Yes, he’s awfully popular, but he’s also up for reelection next fall. You see, in about, oh, four or five hours, I’ll have full control of the X-Head. After that, a few words into my little pinkie ring and, presto, everyone lucky enough to be wearing it—which will soon be practically everyone in the world—will obey my every command! So don’t you see that becoming mayor of New York City is the least that I can do? Next election day, I’ll simply command everyone to write in my name. By the way, do you know what would be really nice? I’d love to have my face carved in the side of Mount Rushmore. Don’t you think my profile would look smashing next to Abraham Lincoln’s and Teddy Roosevelt’s?”

  “You’ll never get away with it.”

  Ignatious smiled, a giant grin that exposed his gums and teeth all the way down to the last molar.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Because I will. And I’m sorry to say that you’re the only person standing in my way. Your music, my dear. Played by you. But worry not—once you’re gone, nothing will stop me!”

  “Once I’m gone?”

  “Why, yes,” Ignatious said. “Don’t tell me you thought this was a joyride?”

  Ignatious’s copper sideburns and red goatee seemed to glint in the strange helicopter light. The founder of the Blatt School for the Insanely Gifted looked insane, capable of anything.

  Myron turned from the front seat.

  “Wait a second, Dad. . . . You aren’t going to . . .” He swallowed hard and nodded at Daphna. “You know . . . ?”

  Ignatious collected himself.

  “It’s one of life’s painful lessons, dear boy: Sometimes, in order to succeed at the highest level, one has to have the courage of one’s convictions.” He turned to the antelope man. “To the harbor! Double time!”

  The antelope man pushed the throttle. Daphna tried to draw in a deep lungful of air but couldn’t catch her breath. Ignatious couldn’t be about to push her out of the helicopter into the water? He was the Great Blatt. The genius of all geniuses. An educator! A humanitarian!

  “Wait!” she said.

  “I have waited,” Ignatious replied coolly. “I’ve been waiting for twelve years for this chance. Waiting time is over.”

  And then Daphna saw them. To her right, like a gift from the heavens, the Thunkmobile appeared with Harkin at the wheel and Thelma in the passenger seat, giving a thumbs-up. Looking out from the opposite window, she saw Balloon-Top, with Billy at the controls and Cynthia and Cook-Top at his side.

  “That fat, bearded fool!” Ignatious cried, looking at Billy. He leaned forward. “Faster!”

  “I’m flooring it,” the antelope man said.

  “Wait a second, Dad,” Daphna heard from the front seat. “You can’t just—”

  “Shut up, Myron!” Ignatious cried. “I can do whatever I want.”

  They were now over New York Harbor, headed directly toward the Statue of Liberty. Daphna looked out the window at the water below. Was it just that morning that they had flown back over it from Africa? Was sh
e about to be dumped out the door to her death while her best friends watched, unable to do anything about it?

  Ignatious flicked a switch. Daphna’s door swung open and a strong gust of wind blew into the helicopter. Daphna gasped and grabbed onto the curtain. It was a long way to the water. To fall would mean certain death.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” Ignatious shouted above the sound of the screaming wind. “If it’s any consolation, you were always one of my favorite students.”

  He moved to push her out. But when Ignatious lurched forward, Daphna ducked under his hands, grabbed hold of his thick sideburns, and pulled his face hard to the seat. Ignatious was too strong. With an angry grunt, he sat back up.

  “I like your fighting spirit,” he said. “But it’s not enough. Say good-bye, Daphna!”

  The helicopter swerved violently. Daphna looked up front. Myron had the antelope man in a headlock. No one was flying the helicopter!

  “What?” Ignatious said.

  Daphna didn’t lose her chance. She elbowed Ignatious in the stomach, jumped to the front, and punched the antelope man hard in the nose. Though the antelope man dropped to the copter floor with a loud “Oof!” Ignatious quickly recovered from Daphna’s blow and took the controls.

  “No one can stop me,” he cried, shoving wildly on the joystick.

  Daphna gasped. They were losing altitude, headed straight toward the Statue of Liberty’s torch.

  “Move it, Dad!”

  The boy scurried over Daphna and hip checked his father off the pilot’s seat. Ignatious hit the floor with a loud bump.

  “You can drive this thing?” Daphna asked.

  “A little bit. Hold on!”

  Daphna looked out the windows. Her friends were on either side, waiting to see what they could do. Below, the harbor was lined with police boats, giving chase over water. The noise inside the helicopter was deafening.

  “Come on,” Daphna said to Myron. “You can do it. Nice and easy!”

  Myron Blatt had an insane gift after all: Yes, his charcoal toaster had been a disaster, but he was a natural-born pilot. With the boy at the controls, the helicopter slowed, tilted left, straightened out, then finally touched down.