Ungifted (9 page)

The seed of an idea began to germinate in my mind. “What else?” I prompted.

“Reproduction.”

Katie folded her arms atop her big belly. “You're out of your mind,” she told me. “I always knew you were crazy, but this is proof positive.”

“Don't be like that,” I wheedled. “It won't cost you anything except a few trips to the school. Why should you care? You'll be pregnant anyway.”

“It won't cost me anything?” she echoed. “How about my privacy? My dignity? My self-respect? My right to bring a baby into this world without turning it into a science fair project?”

“It isn't even for me,” I argued. “These kids really need your help. They're in a jam.”

She was adamant. “Well, if they're so gifted, let them find a way out of the jam.”

“You have to do this for me,” I said stubbornly.

“No way, Donnie. Not in a million years. I'm not crawling into a petri dish for you or anybody.”

I sighed. “Well, okay. I feel sorry for Brad, though.”

She was wary. “What's Brad got to do with it?”

“You know, there he is, far from home, serving his country. It'll break his heart when he finds out his beloved dog isn't getting the care and attention she deserves.” I pointed to Beatrice, who was making another liquid deposit on the rug.

She shrieked so loud that it brought Mom running up the stairs. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, Mom,” I called. “But fire up the carpet steamer, will you? We're going to need it in a few minutes.”

Katie was beside herself. “Just what are you saying?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? If I don't look after Beatrice, Beatrice doesn't get looked after.”

“And that's my fault?” she demanded. “She won't let me anywhere near her.”

“I totally sympathize,” I assured her. “Bad things happen to good people sometimes. Look at the poor Academy kids. It isn't their fault they missed this credit, but they're the ones who have to suffer. Just like it isn't your fault your mother-in-law dumped a dying dog on your doorstep.”

“Don't say ‘dying'! She's not dying! She can't—” Suddenly, Katie clued in. “You miserable blackmailing slime bucket! This is low even for you.”

I nodded in agreement. “Poor Brad.”

She was bitter. “What do you care if a bunch of nerds go to summer school? You already took this course. There's nothing in it for you!”

She was only half right. There
was
nothing in it for me—at least nothing I could explain to Katie. If this worked—if following Katie's pregnancy could count as hands-on experience for Human Growth and Development—that would strengthen my ties to the Academy for Scholastic Distinction. It wouldn't make my grades any better, but it might take people's attention off how ungifted I was. The longer I could stay at the Academy, the longer I could keep myself hidden from Schultz's justice.

Selfish? Big-time. And something else, too: It was absolutely what James Donovan would have done. Maybe ancestry.com wasn't such a waste of money after all. The Hardcastle gym may have been my
Titanic
, but we were survivors, James and me.

Aloud, I said, “I'm doing it because a nice person helps his friends.”

She rolled her eyes, but I knew I had her.

<<
Hypothesis: Donovan Curtis is smarter than all of us put together
.>>

O
kay, probably not. Make that definitely not. Yet all our spectacular grades, killer IQs, and gangbuster test scores couldn't keep us out of summer school. Neither could Oz, Mr. Del Rio, and even Dr. Schultz. And Donovan managed it with a flick of the wrist.

The stomach entered the room first. It was enormous, like someone had stretched a tablecloth over a prize-winning watermelon. We waited for the rest of her to come in. It took longer than we thought because she wasn't moving too swiftly. When I finally saw how petite she was, it seemed like a miracle she was moving at all.

Her name was Katie Patterson, and she was Donovan's older sister. This was kind of like Show and Tell on steroids. She was our Human Growth and Development project, our way out of summer school. We needed final approval from the state, of course. But Oz and the school agreed that she counted as hands-on experience, provided we followed her pregnancy for its final six weeks.

I'd known the minute Donovan showed up in the lab that something important was happening. And here was the proof. He was the cavalry, galloping to our rescue. Can you imagine the top students in the state, and maybe even the whole country, not being allowed to start high school? It would be a huge black eye for the Academy and the whole school district. And what did Donovan get out of this? Nothing. He'd already taken Human Growth and Development, so
he
wouldn't have to go to summer school. And he had a sister who didn't exactly look thrilled that he had volunteered her unborn child as our class pet. So he was probably going to pay for it at home.

Abigail said Donovan was a self-centered jerk, not gifted at all, who was laughing at us behind our backs. I didn't agree. Maybe he wasn't gifted in the way we were, but he had an uncanny knack for making a difference. Take the robotics program. From a scientific standpoint, Tin Man hadn't changed at all since his arrival. Donovan had contributed a name, a few pictures from the internet, and his joystick skills. Yet somehow he'd transformed our entire team. We were focused, excited, united. Cold Spring Harbor had better watch out.

<<
Hypothesis: The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Especially if one of those parts is Donovan
.>>

“Welcome to the robotics lab, Katie,” Oz greeted the newcomer warmly. “We're so grateful to you for helping us out by allowing us into your life.”

She glared in her brother's direction, then turned to the teacher. “I have only one rule, and this one's a deal breaker. When you're seven and a half months pregnant, you go to the bathroom every time the wind blows. So when I have to run, nobody had better get in my way.”

Oz seized the teachable moment. “What happens is the growing baby expands the uterus, and puts pressure on the bladder.”

“Whatever the reason,” Katie continued, “when I've got to go, everything else is on hold. I don't care if I'm performing CPR and have to leave one of you gasping and suffocating. Are we clear?”

<<
Hypothesis: The Belly Rule—whoever has the belly makes the rules
.>>

“First off,” Katie told us, “being pregnant is the weirdest thing that's ever going to happen to you. It's like growing a whole extra body part that doesn't seem to do anything except bump into furniture, and slowly get bigger so you can bump into even more furniture.”

I raised my hand. “But aren't you excited?”

“I was,” she admitted. “But then six months go by, and you stop believing that it's ever going to happen. It's hard to maintain the fever pitch for almost a year.” Her expression grew sad. “And it's hard to think that, when this baby is born, its dad won't be there to see it.”

“When did he die?” came Noah's nasal voice.

Donovan brayed a laugh right into his face. “He's not dead, wise guy! He's a tank commander in Afghanistan, and he won't be home in time!”

Oz jumped in. “You get used to Noah,” he said quickly. “He's not being insensitive, I assure you.”

Katie nodded. “Another thing about being pregnant—your body, which used to be your own private business, is suddenly a hands-on theme park for total strangers. Everybody in a white coat pokes, prods, or examines you in some way or another. And for what they can't see, they have plenty of sophisticated machines that can look inside you. I brought a few of my sonogram pictures if anyone's interested in having a look.”

We all were. I think Katie was kind of surprised about that. She was used to Donovan and, let's face it, he was pretty different from the average gifted kid. None of us knew anything about pregnancy, or sonograms, but it was natural for us to take everything seriously and to do our best with it. We wanted to know about this because we wanted to know about everything. We were just knowers.

I scoured the black-and-white images, searching for anything that resembled a baby. I think I spotted a set of ribs, and maybe a foot, but I also saw something that looked like a bust of Abraham Lincoln, and that definitely wasn't in there. Abigail thought she'd found the head, but Katie explained that it was just a bubble in the amniotic fluid. Latrell was convinced he saw twins. Kevin and Jacey saw nothing at all.

Donavan wouldn't even try. “I'll have plenty of time to look at it after it's born. It's going to be my niece. Or nephew. Whatever.”

Noah stepped forward for a closer look. “If it's a girl,” he said finally, “then what's
that
?” And we could all see exactly what he was pointing at.

Katie looked both startled and forlorn at the same time. “We didn't want to know the sex. We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“He could be wrong,” Oz managed without much conviction.

The rest of us nodded in agreement, but we knew better. Noah was never wrong unless he wanted to be.

“Better start knitting blue bootees,” Donovan told his sister.

She looked daggers at her brother. “Wipe that grin off your face, Donnie. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you. So everything that happens is your fault!”

<<
Hypothesis: Brothers and sisters forge family bonds through a complex byplay of accusations and insults
.>>

It wasn't all business. Katie wanted to see the robot, so we gave her a little demonstration. And while Donovan was operating Tin Man, I ended up next to his sister.

“What's he like at home?” I whispered.

“He's a barrel of laughs,” she replied. “He drinks orange juice out of the bottle, carpets his room in old socks, watches poker on TV, and has never said the words
thank you
in living memory. Should I go on?”

I felt my face flushing as I stuck up for him. “He's doing an amazing thing bringing you here for our class.” She cast me a piercing look that instantly had me on the defensive. “What?”

“Nothing, really.” She smiled at me. “It's just—interesting to see your brother through someone else's eyes.”

And suddenly, just as Tin Man was deploying the mini-bot, she became very still, her expression far away.

“Are you okay?” I whispered in concern.

“The baby's kicking.” She took my hand and placed it on the sweater over her rounded abdomen.

I could feel it tapping against my hand, like little hiccups. It was strange, but also kind of beautiful. I was so much more than just one hour closer to my Human Growth and Development credit. In those sixty minutes, I'd learned what a brand-new human life felt like.

<<
Hypothesis: And a certain tank commander in Afghanistan will soon find out he's having a son
.>>