Replica (Replica #1)(67)
Kristina and Gemma ate in front of the TV that night, side by side, as they often did whenever Gemma’s dad was traveling. Usually, their game was to turn on a trashy reality television show and make fun of all the contestants. But tonight, Gemma was too antsy and distracted to concentrate.
“Can you believe her lips?” Kristina said, gesturing with a fork at the TV. “It looks like she got attacked by a vacuum cleaner.” Gemma laughed, but a second too late. Kristina turned to her. “Are you all right? You seem quiet.” Then, alarmed: “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gemma said. She set down her dinner—takeout from Whole Foods, since her mom considered cooking selecting from the various prepared options—on the coffee table and nudged it away from Rufus’s nose with a toe. The sticky feeling was still lodged in her chest. Without meaning to, she blurted out, “Why did Dad leave Fine and Ives?”
Kristina turned to her, obviously startled. For a second, she looked almost afraid. Then she became immediately suspicious. “Why are you asking?”
Gemma shrugged. “Just curious. I mean, it was his, wasn’t it? It still has his name and everything. I was so little. . . .” Gemma was two when her dad had first decided to leave Fine & Ives, but the subsequent lawsuit had dragged on for more than three years. She remembered nothing about that time; her childhood memories consisted mostly of hospital visits, doctors and constant evaluations, illnesses, relapses, injections, and bitter medicine spooned to her by her mother. But she did remember her parents had celebrated the end of the lawsuit in her room at Duke University Hospital, and she remembered being overwhelmed with happiness and with a sense even then that it wouldn’t last. It never lasted.
Kristina turned back to the TV. But she was no longer watching. That was obvious. And after a second she picked up the remote and clicked the mute button. “Your father and Matthew Fine had . . . disagreements about the company’s direction.”
“What kind of disagreements?” Gemma pressed.
Kristina sighed. “To be honest, Gem, the details were never clear even to me.” She said the words lightly, and Gemma knew they’d been practiced before. “Matthew Fine wanted to make some investments and your father disagreed. It was all boring and very, very complicated.” Kristina’s eyelids flickered: a sure sign that she was lying.
Gemma thought that would be the end of that, but then Kristina turned to her.
“I know your dad can be difficult,” she said, making a weird face, as if the words were sour. “He’s made his mistakes, like everyone. But he’s a good man. Deep down, he is.”
Gemma nearly said, If you say so. But she swallowed back the words. No point in getting into an argument with her mom—not when, if everything went according to plan, there were so many arguments in her future.
Turn the page to continue reading Gemma’s story. Click here to read Chapter 5 of Lyra’s story.
SIX
GEMMA WAS ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT something would go wrong. Kristina would know something was the matter and refuse to go to her board meeting. Perv would show up at nine and the truth would come out and Gemma would be locked in her room until menopause.
She was a nervous wreck. She couldn’t imagine how thieves and murderers kept their cool. She could barely sneak out without her stomach liquefying.
But her mom just kissed Gemma’s cheek, as she always did, and promised to be home later for another Whole Foods and reality TV marathon. One good thing about being relatively friendless and a total Goody Two-shoes: no one ever expected you to do anything wrong. Gemma was suspicion-proof.
She packed her bag, unpacked it, realized she’d packed all the wrong things and far too many of them, and repacked. She was too nervous to sit at her laptop, although she did pull up the Haven Files again on her phone and swipe through the maps section, partially to reassure herself of its existence.
Perv showed up punctually, driving the same eggplant-colored minivan. This time, Rufus hauled himself to the door but let out only three restrained barks of welcome.
“Bye, Roo.” Gemma knelt down to hug her dog, taking comfort in his familiar smell. She knew she was being ridiculous—she was only going to be gone for a few days, maybe less if her mom got really aggressive and decided to fly down to Florida to get her—but she couldn’t help but feel she was leaving forever. And she was, in a sense. She was leaving her old self behind. She would no longer be Gemma-who-did-everything-right, who-listened-to-her-parents, Fragile Gemma of the Broken Body. She was Gemma-who-rode-with-strange-boys, Gemma-who-investigated-mysteries, Gemma-who-defied-parents-and-lied-to-best-friends.
Ninja Gemma.
“Ready to rock?” Perv asked, when she came outside with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Today he was wearing a green T-shirt that made his hair look even blonder and a pair of striped Bermuda shorts.
“Sure.” Gemma let Perv take the bag from her, though it wasn’t heavy, and sling it in the trunk. “How long is the drive, anyway?”
“Normally? Nine hours. When I’m behind the wheel?” Perv opened the door for her before she could do it for herself. He didn’t just talk quickly. He did everything quickly. If he were a comic book character, there would be little zoom-y lines drawn behind him. “A record eight hours and forty-five minutes. That’s with a standard three pee breaks. Fine. Four,” he said, when Gemma looked at him. “But don’t blame me if it throws our timing way off.”