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by Unknown

  for long.

  “I see you decided not to enroll in any Advanced Placement

  classes this year,” he said, looking at her from over his half-moon

  reading glasses.

  “I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the extra workload,” she

  mumbled, tucking her hands under her thighs and sitting on them

  to keep them still.

  “I think you’re capable of much more than you are willing to admit,”

  Hergie said, frowning. “I know you aren’t lazy, Helen. I also

  know you are one of the brightest students in your class. So what’s

  keeping you from taking advantage of all that this educational system

  has to offer you?”

  “I have to work,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I need to save

  up if I want to go to college.”

  “If you take AP classes and do well on your SATs, you will stand a

  better chance of getting enough money for school through a scholarship

  than by working for minimum wage at your father’s shop.”

  “My dad needs me. We aren’t rich like everyone else on this island,

  but we are there for each other,” she said defensively.

  “That’s very admirable of you both, Helen,” Hergie replied in a

  serious tone. “But you are reaching the end of your high school

  years and it’s time to start thinking about your own future.”

  “I know,” Helen said, nodding. She could see from the worry

  puckering his face that he cared, and that he was just trying to

  help. “I think I should get a pretty good athletic scholarship for

  track. I got much faster over the summer. Really.”

  Mr. Hergeshimer stared at her earnest face begging him to let it

  go, and finally conceded. “All right. But if you feel like you need

  more of an academic challenge, you are welcome to join my AP

  English class at any point this semester.”

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  “Thank you, Mr. Hergeshimer. If I feel like I can handle AP, I’ll

  come to you,” Helen said, grateful to be let off the hook.

  As she went back to her desk, it occurred to her that she had to

  keep Hergie and her father away from each other at all cost. She

  didn’t want them comparing notes and deciding that she needed to

  be in special classes and go out for special awards. Even the

  thought gave her a bellyache. Why couldn’t they all just ignore her?

  Secretly, Helen had always felt she was different, but she thought

  she had done a pretty good job of hiding it her whole life. Apparently,

  without realizing it, she’d been sending out hints of that buried

  freak inside of her. She had to try to keep her head down, but

  she wondered how she was going to do that when she kept getting

  taller and taller every damn day.

  “What’s up?” Claire asked as soon as Helen returned to her seat.

  “Just another motivational moment from Hergie. He doesn’t

  think I’m applying myself,” Helen said as breezily as she could.

  “You don’t apply yourself. You never do your work,” Zach replied,

  more offended than he should have been.

  “Shut it, Zach,” Claire said, crossing her arms belligerently. She

  turned and faced Helen. “It’s true, though, Lennie,” she told her

  apologetically. “You never do your work.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You can both shut it,” Helen said, chuckling. The

  bell rang and she gathered her things. Matt Millis gave her a smile

  but hurried away as they left the room. Feeling guilty, Helen realized

  that she hadn’t spoken to him yet. She hadn’t meant to ignore

  him, especially not on the first day of school.

  According to Claire, “everyone” knew that Matt and Helen were

  “supposed” to be together. Matt was intelligent, good looking, and

  captain of the golf team. He was still sort of a geek, but because

  Helen was practically a pariah ever since Gretchen had started

  spreading rumors about her, it was a compliment that everyone

  thought she was good enough for someone like Matt.

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  Unfortunately, Helen never felt anything special for him. Zero

  tingles. The one time they had been shoved into a closet together at

  a party to make out, it had been disastrous. Helen felt like she was

  kissing her brother, and Matt felt like he was being rejected. Afterward,

  he was sweet about it, but no matter how many times he

  cracked jokes, there was a weird tension between them. She really

  missed him but she worried that if she told him he would take it

  the wrong way. It feels like everything I do lately is being taken

  the wrong way, Helen thought.

  The rest of the morning Helen wandered on autopilot from class

  to class. She couldn’t concentrate on much of anything, and every

  time she tried to make herself focus she felt nothing but irritation.

  Something about the day was off. Everyone—from her favorite

  teachers to the few acquaintances she should have been happy to

  see—was annoying her, and every now and again while she was

  walking down the hall she would suddenly feel like she was inside

  an airplane at ten thousand feet. Her inner ear would block up, all

  the sounds around her would become muffled, and her head would

  get hot. Then, as suddenly as it had come on, the discomfort would

  go away. But even still, there was a pressure, a pre-thunderstorm

  energy all around her, even though the skies were lovely and blue.

  It got worse at lunch. She tore into her sandwich thinking that

  her headache was the result of low blood sugar, but she was wrong.

  Jerry had packed her favorite sandwich—smoked turkey, green

  apple, and brie on a baguette—but she couldn’t force herself to take

  more than a bite. She spat it out.

  “Your dad make another dud?” Claire asked. When Jerry had

  first partnered up with Kate he’d started experimenting with creative

  lunches. The Vegemite and Cucumber Disaster of Freshman

  Year was legendary at their table.

  “No, it’s good old number three. I just can’t eat it,” Helen said,

  shoving it away. Claire gleefully picked up the remainder and started

  eating it.

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  “Mmm, ’is really good,” she mumbled around a full mouth. “Us a

  ’atter?”

  “I just don’t feel right,” Helen said.

  Claire stopped chewing and gave her a worried look.

  “I’m not sick. You can go ahead and swallow,” Helen assured her

  quickly. She saw Matt approaching and chirped, “Hey!” trying to

  make up for that morning.

  He was deep in conversation with Gretchen and Zach and didn’t

  respond, but still came to his habitual spot at the geek table. Both

  Gretchen and Zach were so engrossed in what they were saying

  that they didn’t notice that they had wandered into geek territory.

  “I heard they were movie stars in Europe,” Zach was saying.

  “Where did you hear that?” Matt asked, incredulous. “That’s

  ridiculous.”

  “I heard from at least two other people that Ariadne was a model.

  She’s certainly pretty enough,” Zach argued passionately, hating to

  be wrong about anything, even gossip.

  “Please. She’s nowhere near thin enough to be a model,”

  Gretchen hissed bitterly, before catching herself and adding, �
�Of

  course I think she’s pretty, if you go for that exotic, voluptuous

  look. But she’s nothing compared to her twin, Jason—or her cousin!

  Lucas is just unreal,” she gushed.

  The boys shared a knowing look, but silently agreed that they

  were outnumbered by girls and should probably let it go.

  “Jason is almost too pretty,” Claire decided solemnly, after giving

  it a moment’s thought. “Lucas, however, is an über-babe. Quite

  possibly the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. And Ariadne is a

  stone-cold fox, Gretchen. You’re just jealous.”

  Gretchen gave an exasperated huff and rested a fist on her hip.

  “Like you’re not,” was all she had for a comeback.

  “Of course I am. I’m almost as jealous of her as I am of Lennie.

  But not quite.” Helen felt Claire turn to her to see her response, but

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  she had her elbows on the table and her head cradled in her hands,

  rubbing her temples.

  “Lennie?” Matt said, sitting down next to her. “Does your head

  hurt?” He reached out to touch her shoulder. She stood up abruptly,

  muttering an excuse, and hurried away.

  By the time she got to the girls’ room she felt better, but she

  splashed a little cold water on her face for good measure. Then she

  remembered that she had put mascara on that morning in an attempt

  to make an effort. She looked at her raccoon eyes in the mirror

  and burst out laughing. This was the worst first day of school

  ever.

  Somehow she made it through the last three periods, and when

  the bell finally rang she gratefully made her way to the girls’ locker

  room to change for track practice.

  Coach Tar was all fired up. She gave an embarrassingly optimistic

  speech about their chances to win races that year and told them

  how much she believed in them, both as athletes and as young women.

  Then she turned to Helen.

  “Hamilton. You’ll be running with the boys this year,” Coach said

  bluntly. She told everyone to hit the trail.

  Helen sat on the bench for a moment, debating her options while

  everyone else filed out the door. She didn’t want to make a fuss,

  but she was mortified by the thought of having to cross the gender

  line. The muscles in her lower abdomen started to spasm.

  “Go talk to her! Don’t let her push you around,” Claire said indignantly

  as she left.

  Confused and afraid she was going to get a bellyache, Helen nodded

  and stood up.

  “Coach Tar? Can’t we just do it the way we always do?” she called

  out. Coach Tar stopped and turned around to listen, but she didn’t

  look happy about it. “I mean, why can’t I just train with the rest of

  the girls? Because I am a girl,” Helen finished lamely.

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  “We’ve decided that you need to start pushing yourself more,”

  Coach Tar responded in a cold voice. Helen had always gotten the

  feeling that Coach didn’t like her much, and now she was sure of it.

  “But I’m not a boy. It’s not fair to make me run cross-country

  with them,” Helen tried to argue. She jabbed two fingers into the

  spot between her belly button and her pubic bone.

  “Cramps?” Coach Tar asked, a touch of sympathy creeping into

  her voice. Helen nodded and Coach continued. “Coach Brant and I

  have noticed something interesting about your times, Helen. No

  matter who you’re running against, no matter how fast or slow

  your opponents are, you always come in either second or third.

  How can that be? Do you have an answer?”

  “No. I don’t know. I just run, okay? I try my best.”

  “No, you don’t,” Coach said harshly. “And if you want a scholarship

  you’re going to have to start winning races. I talked to Mr.

  Hergeshimer. . . .” Helen groaned out loud, but Coach Tar continued,

  undeterred. “It’s a small school, Hamilton, get used to it. Mr.

  Hergeshimer told me that you were hoping for an athletic scholarship,

  but if you want one you’re going to have to earn it. Maybe forcing

  you to match the boys will teach you to take your talent

  seriously.”

  The thought of displaying her speed for the world to see had a

  physical effect on Helen. She was so afraid that she was going to

  get some kind of cramp or bellyache that she started to have a mini

  panic attack. She began to babble. “I’ll do it, I’ll win races, just

  please don’t single me out like that,” she pleaded, the words tumbling

  out in a rush as she held her breath to hold back the pain.

  Coach Tar was a hard-ass, but she wasn’t cruel. “Are you okay?”

  she asked anxiously, rubbing Helen between her shoulder blades.

  “Put your head between your legs.”

  “I’m okay, it’s just nerves,” Helen explained through gritted

  teeth. After catching her breath she continued, “If I swear to win

  more races, will you let me run with the girls?”

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  Coach Tar studied Helen’s desperate face and nodded, a bit

  shaken from witnessing such an intense panic attack. She let Helen

  go to the girl’s trailhead, but warned her that she still expected

  wins. And more than just a few.

  As she ran the trail, Helen looked at the ground. An academic

  scholarship would be great but that would mean competing with

  Claire for grades, and that was out of the question.

  “Hey, Giggles,” Helen said, easily catching up. Claire was panting

  and sweating away already.

  “What happened? God, it’s so hot!” she exclaimed, her breath

  strained.

  “I think the entire faculty is trying to see if they can climb up

  onto my back at the same time.”

  “Welcome to my life,” Claire wheezed. “Japanese kids grow

  up . . . with at least two . . . people up there. . . . You get used to it.”

  After a few more labored moments of trying to keep up with Helen,

  Claire added, “Can we . . . slow down? Not all of us are from . . .

  planet Krypton.”

  Helen adjusted her pace, knowing that she could pull ahead in

  the last half mile. She rarely exerted herself in practice but she

  knew that even without trying hard she could easily finish first.

  That fact scared her, so she did what she usually did when the subject

  of her freaky speed came up in her head. She ignored it and

  chatted with Claire.

  As the two girls ran down Surfside and out across the moors to

  Miacomet Pond, Claire couldn’t stop talking about the Delos boys.

  She told Helen at least three times that Lucas had held the door for

  her at the end of class. That act proved he was not only a gentleman,

  but already in love with her as well. Jason, Claire decided,

  was either gay or a snob because he had only glanced at her once

  before quickly looking away. She also took offense at how nice a

  dresser he was, like he was European or something.

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  “He’s been living in Spain for, like, three years, Gig. He kinda is

  European. Can we please stop talking about them? It’s giving me a

  headache.”

  “Why are you the only person in school that isn’t interested in the

  Delos family? Aren’t you even curious to
get a look?”

  “No! And I think it’s pathetic that this entire town is standing

  around gawking at them like a bunch of hicks!” Helen shouted.

  Claire stopped short and stared at her. It wasn’t like Helen to argue,

  let alone start yelling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  “I’m bored to death of the Delos family!” Helen continued, even

  when she saw Claire’s surprise. “I’m sick of this town’s fixation

  with them, and I hope I never have to meet, see, or share breathing

  space with any of them!”

  Helen took off running, leaving Claire standing by herself on the

  trail. She finished first, just like she’d promised, but she did it a

  little too quickly; Coach Tar gave her a shocked look when she recorded

  the run time. Helen blew by her and stormed into the locker

  room. She grabbed her stuff and bolted out of school, not bothering

  to change or say good-bye to any of her teammates.

  On the way home, Helen started crying. She pedaled past the

  neat rows of gray shingled-sided houses with their black or white

  painted storm shutters and tried to calm down. The sky seemed to

  sit particularly low on the scoured land, as if it was pressing down

  on the gables of the old whalers and trying to finally flatten them

  after a few centuries of stubborn defiance. Helen had no idea why

  she’d gotten so angry, or why she’d abandoned her best friend like

  that. She needed a little peace and quiet.

  There was a car accident on Surfside; some gigantic SUV had

  tried to turn onto a narrow, sandbanked side street and turned

  over. The drivers were okay, but their beached whale of a car

  blocked off traffic from end to end. Annoyed as she was, Helen

  knew she couldn’t even pedal past the boneheaded off islanders

  without losing her checkers. She decided to take the long way

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  home. She turned around and headed back toward the center of

  town, passing the movie theater, the ferry, and the library, which,

  with its Greek temple architecture, stuck out like a sore thumb in a

  town that otherwise was an ode to four-hundred-year-old Puritan

  architecture. And maybe that’s why Helen loved it. The Atheneum

  was a gleaming white beacon of strange smack-dab in the middle

  of forget-me-now drab, and somehow, Helen identified with both

  of those things. Half of her was no-nonsense Nantucket through

  and through, and the other half was marble columns and grand