little.
Remember the wild rumpus?
He smelled the paper again. He knew they were watching him. There were cameras that captured his every move, little eyes in the corners. Nothing went without record.
He was counting on it.
Nix pulled the chair in front of the monitor. He placed the pictures on his lap and waited.
Hours later, the monitor flickered.
His image disappeared, replaced by another sitting in a similar chair in a white room, hands on her lap.
"Little brother."
Nix smiled. He was always surprised how much the sight of his sister could warm him. Even if she was a faint shadow of what she used be. A waif. A troubled soul. Her shoulders were pointy, her cheeks drawn. The room was well-lit but, still, shadows darkened her eyes.
"How are you?" he asked.
She looked at her lap, picking at her fingers. "I'm well."
"You're eating?"
Nod.
She's too demure. She's thinking about it too much.
"How's the little angel?"
The shadows lightened. Her teeth showed pearly and white. She told him about making cookies. Avery came up with her own recipe: chocolate chip and potato chip cookies. Sounded gross because it was. They made jelly bean and peanut cookies, gummy worm cookies, and, finally, a batch of sugar and syrup cookies. They decided to take them to the volunteers at the animal shelter. They were going to form a group called Baking a Difference and would get the neighborhood kids involved.
Cali loosened up. She always felt relaxed when she talked about Avery. They went on to talk about other things, like the new playground down the street and the neighbor’s new baby.
Something slid under the door.
Nix saw the drawing. The corners of the paper were folded up. He looked at Cali. She was speechless.
He retrieved it and sat down. This one was an ocean with a dolphin. It was jumping out of the water with a big smile, free at last.
Free at last.
Nix touched the sun.
"She misses you." Cali sniffed. She didn't have to pretend. "She wants to know when you're coming home."
"What do you tell her?"
"I tell her soon."
"Maybe you should tell her the truth."
"I've petitioned the government to open a new branch in our lab. Our research was showing strong signs of biomite remission when exposed to RNA injections before they cut funding. If we can just have a year or two, Nix, I know I can bring your biomite levels below 40%."
"A year or two."
She looked back at her fingers. She was making all this up. There was no remission evidence in laboratories, public or private. Maybe in the basement, but not at the lab.
"You'll get me out of the redline?" Nix muttered.
"And out of here, if they just listen."
"That's a lot of ifs."
"That's all I got." Cali wiped both eyes. "You're all I got."
There was a lot of truth to that. Only Nix was aware of just how true it was. He stared at the picture, remembered going on vacation to Folly Beach outside Charleston, South Carolina and seeing dolphins for the first time with Avery. Remembered sleeping on the beach towel in the afternoon while she built castles and Cali and Thomas went for a long walk. That was vacation. That was a long time ago.
"She worked hard on that," Cali said. "I got her a new set of pencils with special colors just for you. She must've spent months drawing that one."
"I like it." He held it up. "Tell her thank you."
"Maybe one day you can tell her."
They talked about neighbors. Talked about his old friends. They filled the gaps with words, making it all seem normal. Finally, Cali stood up.
The screen went blank.
Nix sat for several minutes, looking at the colors. It was just like the other ones, pictures from a lovely girl to a loving uncle. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in the waxy aroma.
His sinuses tingled. A tickling sensation penetrated the porous bone plate that separated his olfactory senses and entered his brain like a virus. Like living cocaine. He held the back of the chair, kept his eyes open even though the room was
Remember the wild rumpus?
He smelled the paper again. He knew they were watching him. There were cameras that captured his every move, little eyes in the corners. Nothing went without record.
He was counting on it.
Nix pulled the chair in front of the monitor. He placed the pictures on his lap and waited.
Hours later, the monitor flickered.
His image disappeared, replaced by another sitting in a similar chair in a white room, hands on her lap.
"Little brother."
Nix smiled. He was always surprised how much the sight of his sister could warm him. Even if she was a faint shadow of what she used be. A waif. A troubled soul. Her shoulders were pointy, her cheeks drawn. The room was well-lit but, still, shadows darkened her eyes.
"How are you?" he asked.
She looked at her lap, picking at her fingers. "I'm well."
"You're eating?"
Nod.
She's too demure. She's thinking about it too much.
"How's the little angel?"
The shadows lightened. Her teeth showed pearly and white. She told him about making cookies. Avery came up with her own recipe: chocolate chip and potato chip cookies. Sounded gross because it was. They made jelly bean and peanut cookies, gummy worm cookies, and, finally, a batch of sugar and syrup cookies. They decided to take them to the volunteers at the animal shelter. They were going to form a group called Baking a Difference and would get the neighborhood kids involved.
Cali loosened up. She always felt relaxed when she talked about Avery. They went on to talk about other things, like the new playground down the street and the neighbor’s new baby.
Something slid under the door.
Nix saw the drawing. The corners of the paper were folded up. He looked at Cali. She was speechless.
He retrieved it and sat down. This one was an ocean with a dolphin. It was jumping out of the water with a big smile, free at last.
Free at last.
Nix touched the sun.
"She misses you." Cali sniffed. She didn't have to pretend. "She wants to know when you're coming home."
"What do you tell her?"
"I tell her soon."
"Maybe you should tell her the truth."
"I've petitioned the government to open a new branch in our lab. Our research was showing strong signs of biomite remission when exposed to RNA injections before they cut funding. If we can just have a year or two, Nix, I know I can bring your biomite levels below 40%."
"A year or two."
She looked back at her fingers. She was making all this up. There was no remission evidence in laboratories, public or private. Maybe in the basement, but not at the lab.
"You'll get me out of the redline?" Nix muttered.
"And out of here, if they just listen."
"That's a lot of ifs."
"That's all I got." Cali wiped both eyes. "You're all I got."
There was a lot of truth to that. Only Nix was aware of just how true it was. He stared at the picture, remembered going on vacation to Folly Beach outside Charleston, South Carolina and seeing dolphins for the first time with Avery. Remembered sleeping on the beach towel in the afternoon while she built castles and Cali and Thomas went for a long walk. That was vacation. That was a long time ago.
"She worked hard on that," Cali said. "I got her a new set of pencils with special colors just for you. She must've spent months drawing that one."
"I like it." He held it up. "Tell her thank you."
"Maybe one day you can tell her."
They talked about neighbors. Talked about his old friends. They filled the gaps with words, making it all seem normal. Finally, Cali stood up.
The screen went blank.
Nix sat for several minutes, looking at the colors. It was just like the other ones, pictures from a lovely girl to a loving uncle. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in the waxy aroma.
His sinuses tingled. A tickling sensation penetrated the porous bone plate that separated his olfactory senses and entered his brain like a virus. Like living cocaine. He held the back of the chair, kept his eyes open even though the room was
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