Escape Velocity

Chapter Seven

The timing of everything was off. I needed to concentrate on the diary, not Parallax. But the diary wasn't a sure thing for answers to my questions about whether Gramp had a sister. Wading through every page could be a dead-end but any page might hold a clue. It might be a big waste of time, a distraction, letting me pretend Gramp wasn't ill. I could blow my chance at Parallax for what? A delusion?

On top of that, I was stuck here, in this place where I was out of place. The dining room in the Arouet Suite was an example of French Seventeenth Century Overdone. The wallpaper had replicas of mosaics from Pompeii, or somewhere, which granted was cool. Especially the one with the birds and the cat at a water basin. There were two filigreed mirrors, and a gigantic dining table so highly polished I could see my reflection. And matching chairs that probably had some description like Regency or Empire, similar to the stuff I'd seen on a tour of the White House last spring. The table was set with delicate floral china and a baffling amount of silverware.

My head throbbed. I was used to sitting at the kitchen island eating a frozen waffle I'd zapped in the microwave. On a good day, I used the toaster.

Please don't let me spill anything.

I sat at the end next to Melisse. Another girl, Olivia, sat across from her. They both grew up on farms in Pennsylvania and bonded over least favorite barn chores and a love of animals. Kate's new roomie, Christina, sat across from me. My presence was irrelevant. Not that that was a bad thing. Realizing no one would notice, I hit the buffet for another biscuit.

"Good morning." Ms. Robbins entered the dining room and pulled out a chair at the end of the table. "Hope you all slept well."

Kate, bubbly as ever, said. "Oh, it's so nice here. We're very lucky." She turned to the girls to her left. "Don't you think?" She was at ease, carving her melon with a delicate motion, setting aside the rind discreetly, and finally chewing and swallowing the pieces as if it was the finest cuisine. Of all of us, she belonged in this exclusive resort, with its extravagant decor and all its beautiful guests.

Liz, the sixth participant, agreed with Kate, but after she did, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. At the orientation, Liz was low-key but didn't hide how smart she was either. She would be my toughest competition. And she was as pretty as Kate, maybe prettier. Ugh.

The forced closeness with all these people made my skin crawl. We all had rooms on the same hall. Living close to each other, having roommates, might be part of a test. If it was, I was starting down a few notches from everyone else. All sharp elbows and fumbled words, I was an alien on Planet Parallax.

A random thought hit me: I might have royally screwed myself with the whole far-away-on-Mars-with-a-small-team-of-settlers solution to my life. So stupid that I hadn't considered I still had to get along with people. And there'd be no escape from Mars.

Yeah, hermit life on a mountaintop in Nepal might not be so awful. Current address? The intersection of Rock and Hard Place.

One of our instructors stood up. Ms. Tyson, who had double majored in engineering and art and taught at a magnet school in Ohio, said, "If I don't drink some more coffee soon, I won't make it through the tour." A piece of batik-dyed fabric served as a headband to hold back wiry hair fighting to liberate itself. Splotches of red paint spattered her arms and tinged her fingernails. At least I hoped it was red paint.

The older man and woman across from her laughed in unison. Ms. Voorhees' soft, gray curls bounced as she reacted. Mr. Hopkins' head bobbed before he took a dramatic swallow from his coffee cup and sighed with apparent pleasure. They were the other instructors and married. They had the large bedroom at the end of the hall, right next to Kate.