All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(71)

A what? ‘A gift? What subject do you teach again?’

‘Math,’ she said.

‘Math? Natty has a gift . . . in math?’ This was news to me.

‘And science, though I don’t have her for that subject. Listen,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘May I call you Annie?’

I shrugged.

‘That’s how Natty refers to you! She talks about you constantly!’

‘Well, thanks for telling me about Natty’s gift,’ I said.

‘You see, there’s this camp in Massachusetts for gifted children. Eight weeks in the summer. It’s a chance for Natty to be with other children like herself. She needs a sponsor and I’d be willing to accompany her.’

‘Why would you be willing to do that?’

‘I . . . Only because I believe in Natty.’

‘What would you want for it?’ I asked. ‘You must want something.’

She blushed. ‘No. Nothing! Except to see Natty be as successful as she deserves to be.’

I could not even begin to think about this. I had to worry about Nana’s wake and social services and about a million other things.

Miss Bellevoir continued. ‘I sent in an application for her several months ago.’

‘You did what?’ Who the hell did this woman think she was?

‘I apologize if I overstepped. Your sister has a truly extraordinary mind, Annie. The most extraordinary mind I’ve come across in all my years of teaching.’

How long had that been? Like, two years?

‘Oh, you’re probably thinking that I haven’t been teaching very long. Let’s add my years of being in school, too. Natty could be the person who solves the water problem, for instance. Or anything. Anything . . .’ She sighed. ‘Listen, Annie, I do have a selfish reason for wanting to help your sister. Simply put, I’m tired of how awful things have gotten. Don’t tell me you’ve never asked yourself why things are the way they are. Why we devote all our resources to trying to compensate for our lack of resources. Can you honestly remember the last time anyone in our society came up with anything new? Other than a law, of course. And do you know what happens to a society of old things? It withers and dies. We are living in the Dark Ages, and half the people don’t even seem to know it. We can’t go on like this forever!’ Miss Bellevoir paused. ‘Forgive me. When I’m passionate, I sometimes end up sounding muddled. My point is that Natty is someone who could honestly do anything. Minds like hers are our only hope and, as her teacher, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let such a resource go to waste.’

Natty had always gotten good grades, but this was ridiculous. ‘If she’s so extraordinary, why hasn’t anyone pointed this out to me before?’

‘I don’t know,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘Perhaps they were intimidated by your family. Or perhaps they saw Natty through a certain lens because of that.’

‘You mean they were prejudiced?’ I clenched my jaw.

‘But I am new, and I have fresh eyes. And I’m telling you now.’

We were outside Mr Beery’s classroom. She told me she would send me more information. Miss Bellevoir was a busybody, but I decided that she wasn’t a bad sort.

‘I have to discuss this with my . . .’ I almost said grandmother. ‘My brother and our attorney.’

‘Natty says that you make all the decisions in your family,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘That you’re everyone’s protector.’

‘She shouldn’t say things like that,’ I said.

‘Must be a lot of burden for one person,’ Miss Bellevoir said.

Truthfully, it annoyed me that someone else, some stranger, had observed things in Natty that I had not. I felt as if I had failed my sister. ‘If Natty’s such a genius, why didn’t I ever notice?’

‘It’s hard to see things that are right in front of us sometimes,’ Miss Bellevoir said. ‘But I’m telling you, what she has is precious. And it needs to be encouraged and protected.’ Miss Bellevoir squeezed my hand. Then she winked at me and nodded as if we were conspirators.

I opened the door to the classroom. Miss Bellevoir waved to Mr Beery to let him know that I had been with her. He nodded. ‘Nice of you to join us, Ms Balanchine,’ he said.

‘I was with Miss Bellevoir. Didn’t you see?’

Mr Beery said nothing.

‘I mean, I saw you wave at her,’ I said. ‘So you must have seen.’

‘That’s enough, Ms Balanchine. Have a seat.’

Instead of sitting down at my desk, I walked to the front of the classroom and put my face right up against his face. ‘I think you did see,’ I continued. ‘You just like being sarcastic. You enjoy belittling us, don’t you? You enjoy the teeny tiny bit of power you have. You play us against each other so that you can win our favour. It’s pathetic.’

‘You’re being inappropriate,’ he said.

‘And when I say it’s, I actually mean you. You’re pathetic,’ I replied.

I picked up my bag and began heading towards the principal’s office.

Mr Beery yelled, ‘Go! To! The principal!’

‘I’m ahead of you there,’ I said.

Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to school the day after Nana died after all.