The Similars (The Similars #1)(58)
I walk off before I can hear the rest, wondering vaguely what task Ansel was given by his guardian, and if he’s going to get started over the holidays.
*
“Genevieve,” I call out from the sofa in my father’s living room, my voice initializing our household bot. “What do you know about Albert Seymour?”
I’m back home in San Francisco. Normally Oliver and I would spend our breaks binge-watching movies together, but now I’m determined to learn more about Seymour’s time at Darkwood. He is, after all, the reason the Similars are who they are—special attributes and all. That alone compels me to dig up everything I can about him.
“Looking him up now,” Genevieve responds. Unlike Dash, Genevieve isn’t my friend. Blunt and to-the-point, she gets things done, scanning documents and articles faster than any bot I’ve ever interfaced with.
“Thanks—”
“You know about his cloning lab, I assume,” she cuts in before I can say more. “His pivotal research…”
“Yes,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “Everything about his days at Harvard and beyond has been thoroughly documented—except for his primate experiment. That’s not in any of the literature I’ve found. And there’s hardly anything about his years at Darkwood. He was there at the same time as my father, and the parents of several of my classmates. Plus, his brother was there…”
“His half brother, you mean? John Underwood?”
“Exactly. I can’t find anything on him either.”
“He was expelled,” Genevieve says briskly. “Underwood, I mean. At the end of his junior year.”
“Really?” This is news to me. “Why? What did he do?”
“Seymour was working in a research lab on the Darkwood campus. Something to do with animals. A precursor experiment to cloning, I presume. Underwood let the subjects loose on some kind of ill-advised dare.”
I stand and start pacing the room. “Underwood got kicked out of Darkwood?” I stop by the fireplace in front of an old photograph of my parents. In it, they look young, happy. “Where are you getting this info from?”
“The source is a bit shady,” Genevieve admits. “I might have hacked a few personal emails…”
“Is there anything else?” I ask, ignoring that last part. If Genevieve did something untoward, I don’t want to know about it.
“No,” she answers. “That’s all I’ve got.”
I spend pretty much the entire vacation alone, with only my research and Genevieve and Dash to keep me company. When I tell Dash about Underwood’s expulsion, he sounds hurt that I asked Genevieve for help instead of him. I remind him that I have so few actual friends, he has nothing to worry about. I still need him.
I miss Prudence so much it hurts, but short of showing up at the farm and demanding to see her, I don’t know what else I can do. Jaeger hasn’t responded to any of my buzzes, and the last thing I want is to upset her parents, particularly not with her mom so ill…
I try to keep my mind occupied, thinking about Seymour’s brother. I’m still reeling over the fact that Underwood was expelled in his junior year. Could Seymour have had something to do with it? I don’t know how or if it is relevant, but something in my gut tells me it is.
I only have to endure one awkward dinner with my father on Christmas Day—the one holiday where even he can’t claim to have work obligations. I slip in a few questions between bites of in vitro steak. There’s no easy way to start a conversation with my father, so I just come out with it. “You never talk about being in the Ten. How come? Is there a reason you don’t want me to know about it?”
My father looks up from his plate. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “It was a long time ago, Emma. A lot has changed since then.” He sighs, carefully separating his vegetables from his meat. “Why are you interested?”
“For starters, I’m part of the Ten this year, or didn’t you get the memo?”
“And I’m proud of you, honey, though not surprised. You always manage to do well academically, in spite of… Well, you know.”
“What?” I ask, my cheeks growing hot. “My best friend dying? Or do you mean Levi? Is this your way of acknowledging that Oliver’s clone showed up at Darkwood? Since I got home, you haven’t mentioned two words about Oliver, or Levi, or your call with Headmaster Ransom at the start of the semester.”
My father opens his mouth, maybe to apologize, though I sincerely doubt it. Whatever he’s about to say, he never gets the chance. The view space above our dining table beeps with a news alert.
“Protestors gathered today in Sacramento on the capitol’s steps,” the automated voice booms out over us, “to rally against a recent ruling that allows couples to seek out reproductive cloning in the state of California. Many believe this ruling is a slippery slope toward clone assimilation and clones’ rights.”
I stare at the feed, horrified as I watch thousands of Americans brandishing anti-clone signs, pumping their fists in the air and crying, “Say no to clones!”
The reporter continues, “California is the first state to rule in favor of clones’ rights, arguing last month that clones should receive equal protection under the law, and that border checks are unconstitutional. But many do not agree with the ruling—”