I grab my rough sketch. “Okay. Let’s talk engineering.”
ERIN
Connor and I stay in the atrium. We power up our laptops, and I spread my notes across the table. I see Ethan and Natalia go into the Zation room.
Connor scratches his chin. “I’m not diggin’ the bracelet device idea.”
“Yes, you said that.” I clasp my hands tightly in my lap. “All right, I’m willing to listen.”
“I’m thinking an app is the best way to go, but truthfully, apps are getting old. And there’s too many. I think we need to be more innovative. Come up with something unique.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure. We need to kick that around a little.” Connor gestures to my notes. “Before we jump right into marketing and sales.”
“Well, what do kids have with them all the time besides their phones? Maybe we could create a pencil with a built-in chip? Or how about an ID card of some sort?”
“I like it, but kids could lose those, too.”
“You have something about kids losing things.”
“Yeah, happens a lot. I’m a big loser.” He laughs. “Of things.”
I smile. “So, something kids couldn’t lose.”
He stands, runs a hand over his cropped, curly hair. “I like the idea of something that synchs with teachers’ web pages. And I like the reminder aspect to keep kids on track with homework and projects. But it has to be something kids would want to use, that would maybe even be fun.”
“Yes.”
He sits down. “What about an Apple Watch kind of thing? Still losable, but cooler.”
“How is that different from a bracelet? And wouldn’t it be more expensive to produce?” I drum my nails on the table as Connor reaches into his backpack, pulls out a small spiral notebook, and starts leafing through it.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “My assignments. Talking about all this made me remember I need to get a book I’m supposed to read over break.”
“You still use an assignment notebook? So do I. Actually, lots of kids do.” I push a stray frizzy hair off my forehead. “Wait . . .” I clasp my hands excitedly. “WAIT!”
He looks up.
“IDEA! What about some type of little device that would clip onto an assignment notebook? Like a virtual assistant?”
He tilts his head. “Hmm. But it has to be entertaining, maybe even addicting. What about something like a Giga Pet?”
“What’s a Giga Pet?”
“It was this fad in the nineties. I have one. I love vintage electronic stuff. They were these small digital devices on a key chain that kids hung from their backpacks. You took care of a computerized dog or cat.”
Connor finds a picture of a Giga Pet on his phone and shows me. “Pretty great, until you forgot to feed it and the thing died on you. I wouldn’t have put that in the program. We could come up with something hilarious, like a talking banana.”
I nod, the possibilities zooming around in my head. “I don’t know about the banana, but I think we’ve got an idea.”
Connor points to my stack of papers. “No insult, but we can do better than Note to Self. We need something catchier.”
“I—I agree.”
“Good.” He pulls his laptop closer. “Let me do a little scouting around. See how I could potentially set this up. You wanna start brainstorming different names? And revise some of the strategies?”
“All right. I can do that.”
He wakes up his laptop. A picture of his dog is the background. Connor sees me looking and says, “He’s a mutt. We rescued him.”
“Oh. Why Picasso?”
“When we got him, we thought his face looked like the Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago. You ever see it?”
“Yeah. We went to the city for a play. The sculpture’s a little strange. What’s it supposed to be?”
“Whatever you think. That’s the beauty of it.”
“I prefer art that’s more specific, not something you have to try to figure out.”
He laughs and starts typing. I mean, I do. Why was that funny? I reorganize my papers and push up the lead on my pencil. Then I get to work.
After I dig in a bit, I start to feel excited about the new idea, and I’m making definite progress revising my plan. Connor seems to be immersed in whatever he’s doing. Okay, yes, I admit, he had some good thoughts. Jet announces a fifteen-minute break, and we decide to compare notes afterward.
I quickly head to the bathroom, realizing I haven’t gone all day. When I’m in a stall, I hear two girls come in and start talking. It’s impossible not to eavesdrop when you’re in this situation.
One says, “Did you hear about that guy who’s supposedly working on some kind of tiny voice-activated personal assistant?”
The other one says, “No. What’s the scoop?”
“I guess it, like, attaches to your ear or your shirt and does anything you need.”
“Like Siri?”
“Better. Like your own little guide to the universe.”
They could be talking about anyone, right? They’re going to think I’m insane, but I call out, “Excuse me, but what’s the guy’s name? Do you know?”
There’s silence for a second; then one of the girls says, “I don’t remember.”
Then the other one goes, “It was the guy who said in his speech that he was going to win. And if what people are saying is true, he probably will.”
“Thank you,” I choke out.
Not anyone. Him. Of course. Why would it be any other way?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Day One, Done
ETHAN
I’m on my way to the car when I realize I forgot my Zacket. I run back inside Gotham City. Everyone’s gone. I spot it right away on the table I was sitting at. It’s the only one in the place. I grab it and head to the door.
When I’m about to push it open, I hear a phone ringing, then someone whispering in a panicky-sounding voice, “Don’t answer it! I haven’t slept in weeks. They can wait another day!”
I turn and see Z and Maddox standing halfway down a darkened hallway. Z’s back is to me, but it’s for sure him. No wonder the guy never takes off his sunglasses if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Maddox spots me and puts a hand on Z’s arm. He turns and they both wave. “Have a great night,” Maddox calls.
“Thanks.” I rush out to the car. What was that all about?
Erin’s already in the backseat when I get there, her head turned toward the window.
“Hey,” Dad says to me. “How’d it go?”
I slide in, buckle. “Pretty good, actually. I found someone to work with, and I got a great idea for how to make the desk-evator way better!”
Dad pulls away from the curb. “Excellent.”
“Did Erin tell you how Zak Canzeri made this big entrance with smoke and laser lights, then disappeared?”
“No.” Dad glances in the rearview mirror. “Your sister’s been unusually quiet.”
Erin kicks off Mom’s shoes, then rubs her ankle. I catch a whiff of smelly feet. Why’d she wear those? I’m sure they made her feet sweat. And stink.
Awkward silence for a few seconds. Then I go, “Okay, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She straightens her briefcase on her lap.
When Erin says nothing’s wrong, something always is.
“So . . . how’s your project going? You’re working with Connor, right?”
All of a sudden, words just start pouring out of her at rapid speed.
“I had a great idea too. No, an amazing one! I’ve been working on it for weeks. Note to Self, but we’re changing the name. Which is fine. A device to keep kids on track in school and assure their success. Connor came up with the Giga Pet aspect and it’s good. He’s super smart, in this casual, ripped-blue-jeans kind of way.” She hiccups loudly. “Anyway, we were going along nicely and I was getting excited, really feeling it, you know, and then I heard these girls in the bathroom t
alking. My virtual assistant is just for school, but his is for everything, apparently! I mean, how is that even possible?”
As I said.
She hiccups again. “And if what I overheard is true, and I don’t doubt that it is, then my idea isn’t going to cut it, Ethan. It’s just not BIG ENOUGH, do you understand?”
“Uh . . . this has to do with Romanov?”
She sighs. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“Some girls in the bathroom?” Dad pipes in. “It’s probably just gossip. A rumor.”
“I don’t think so.” She opens the window, sucks in some air. “I can’t let him get to me. Not again. What I have to do is figure out how to make my device bigger, better, flashier. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, this is good. I’m lucky I found this out early in the game. I’ll talk to Connor first thing tomorrow.”
“Glad I could assist,” I say.
Erin closes the window, points to my wrist. “What is that?”
“An energy band.”
“Let me guess. Natalia?”
“Uh-huh. She says it’ll help my productivity and creativity.”
“It’s just a rubber bracelet.”
“Who knows? I need all the help I can get with my desk on a stick.”
“Wait, what?”
I grin. “That’s what we’re calling the new and improved desk-evator. It’s a whole new concept. Freestanding, on wheels, with a stool that pops out. It can be moved anywhere in a classroom. How cool is that? We started designing the prototype today.”
Erin tilts her head. “Well, that’s certainly better than what you had before.”
“Natalia’s really good at engineering stuff. And she’s totally on board.” I elbow Erin. “Did you hear that? I just used a cool business term. On board.”
“I’m happy you’re finally stepping up and learning the terminology.”
“CEO, big picture, reach out, circle back.” I bob my head. “I got this.”
“Wonderful.” She rubs her ankle again.
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear those shoes tomorrow?”
“No, they’re fine. I need to look professional.” She pulls a pencil and pad of paper from her briefcase and starts crossing things out and scribbling notes.
When we get home, Mom wants to hear every detail. Erin gives her what she calls the 360-degree view, describing everything except the bathroom encounter. “The bottom line is that it was truly amazing. I can barely process it all.”
I’ve been eating bagel chips this whole time. Sesame, the best kind.
Mom glances at me. “Dinner in a few. Don’t fill up on chips.”
“I barely had anything to eat there,” I protest. “They need to put out more snacks.”
“Didn’t you see the protein bars on the tables?” Erin asks.
“Yeah, I tried one. It was horrible. It tasted like tree bark or something.”
“So, what was Zak Canzeri like?” Mom asks.
“We only saw him for about two minutes,” I answer. “Then he vanished in a puff of smoke.”
“Really?” Mom says. “That seems odd.”
“It’s all part of his image,” Erin says. “Anyway, tomorrow we’re supposed to have a guest speaker and some surprise Zactivities.”
“Zactivities?” Dad repeats.
“It’s a branding thing. Zackets, Zations, Zactivities,” Erin explains.
Mom raises her eyebrows. “Clever.”
Erin hasn’t said anything about the Romanov issue, and I’m certainly not bringing it up.
We sit down for dinner. She heaps some mashed potatoes on her plate, then announces, “I have a lot of work to do tonight, so if you all wouldn’t mind keeping the noise level down, I have to concentrate.”
“Sure,” Dad says.
“Of course,” Mom agrees.
Erin looks at me. “The ball?”
“Fine, I won’t hit it against the wall.”
“Thank you again for letting me go,” Erin says to Mom and Dad. “It’s everything I expected, and so much more. I can hardly wait for tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
It is pretty much what I expected. Genius World, with me, the visitor from Duct Tape Land. But I made it through day number one, didn’t I? And I found someone who likes my idea! Natalia says sitting is “against the flow of nature.” She says the human body isn’t made to be in a sitting position for hours at a time. How’s that, huh?
I can hardly wait for tomorrow too. I think my desk on a stick is really gonna fly. Did you catch that? Fly, as in soar. As in the sky’s the limit. As in I’m not an idiot anymore.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An Ant and an Aunt
ERIN
I read and research until I’m bleary-eyed. When Zoe’s face pops up on my phone to FaceTime, I answer immediately.
“I’m so happy you called!” I shout when she comes into focus. “I have so much to tell you!”
I report on all the events at camp, from the speeches to the Zations to Z’s appearance to working with Connor.
“That all sounds great,” Zoe says.
I frown. “Except, Marlon.”
“What happened?”
“I overheard these girls say he’s designing some kind of voice-activated personal assistant that attaches to your ear or something.”
“Okay . . .”
“That’s huge, Zoe. My project is just to help kids do better in school. His is to . . . I don’t even know, but it’ll make mine look basic. Like a simplified version.”
“Erin. Don’t think about what he’s doing. Focus on what you’re doing.”
“You’re right, of course, but it’s hard. He just gets under my skin. And the kids at the camp, they’re all brilliant. Their projects are amazing. I don’t know if mine—”
The door behind Zoe opens, and I see her mom. She tells Zoe it’s late and she’s going to bed. After she leaves, Zoe turns back to the screen, shaking her head.
“How’s it going there?” I ask. “And where are you, by the way? I see food in the background.”
“I’m in their walk-in pantry. It was the only private place I could find. They have a lot of junk food. My cousins never stop eating. As for how it’s going, well, let’s see. Marci’s been lecturing my mom about picking herself up and not wallowing in self-pity, and she keeps criticizing my dad. Especially now, with the baby.”
I almost drop my phone as Zoe covers her mouth. “What baby?” I shout.
“I—I’ve been meaning to tell you, but with the camp and us leaving and everything . . .”
“Who’s having a baby?”
“My dad. I mean, Dara. They’re . . . getting married.”
“Oh my God! When did all this happen?”
“A few weeks ago. Erin, I’m sorry. I couldn’t talk about it. . . .” Zoe’s eyes brim with tears.
“It’s okay. Are you all right?”
She shrugs. “Not really. I’ve been thinking about dropping the Kramer from my name now. A hyphenated last name is pretty ridiculous when your parents are divorced and your dad lives in another country and is having a kid with someone else, don’t you think?”
“Are you saying you’d legally change it?”
“Yes. Zoe Feld. How does it sound?”
“Good. It sounds good. If that’s what you want.”
We’re quiet for a second. Zoe wipes her eyes, then leans back against a row of cereal boxes on a shelf. “In other news, a woodpecker has been living in our mailbox. Mom wants to call an animal service when we get back to have it removed. I keep begging her not to.”
I laugh. “So, we’ve got a baby on the way and a woodpecker in the mailbox. Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Yeah . . .” She sniffles. “I don’t know what’s happening with Ethan, either. The last day before break, I wished him good luck at camp, and he barely answered me.”
“He always barely answers.”
“Has he said anything to y
ou? About me?”
“No, but he wouldn’t,” I reply. “Listen, he’s not all that great, you know. When he doesn’t have any clean clothes, he takes stuff out of the dirty pile and wears them. His shirts have, like, food stains. How gross is that?”
“I think that’s kind of sweet.”
“How can it be sweet? It’s smelly. And icky.”
Zoe cry-laughs.
“And he’s so oblivious all the time. He loses everything and never knows what’s going on.”
“I love that about him.” She looks down. “Does he like that girl? Natalia?”
“I don’t know. They’re just doing a project together, as far as I know. Do you want me to ask him?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’ll see what I can find out, without asking him.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“And, Erin, it’ll be all right. The thing with Marlon.”
“How do you know?”
“I know because you’ll make it all right. You always do.”
ZOE
I open the pantry door and peek out. The kitchen’s dark. The only sound I hear is Hannah’s giggling in the guest room. There’s a girl across the street who’s exactly Hannah’s age, and they made friends in, like, five minutes. She’s sleeping over. Their giggling gets louder, and I hear Aunt Marci go, “Shh! That’s enough now, girls!”
More giggling, then it gets quiet. My sister reminds me of this wobbly penguin toy I had when I was little. You’d push it down and it would spring back up every time. Major life stuff happens and Hannah bounces right back. I don’t know how a person can be like that.
I tiptoe over to the sink and open the cabinet underneath, then take out the garbage can. Quietly and quickly, I find every single recyclable item and rinse them all. Then I get a paper bag from the pantry, put everything inside, and go out the front door, closing it behind me softly but leaving it unlocked.
Aunt Marci’s neighbors keep their recycling bin on the side of their house. I noticed that the day we arrived. In the few days we’ve been here, I’ve saved numerous cans, containers, papers, and boxes from going to a landfill. I know it’s not much, but every little bit helps, right?
Ethan Marcus Makes His Mark Page 9
