Destiny proved Zedediah’s point, Jake thought.
From then on the conversation went on aroundJake so fast and furiously that he wasn’t sure he could have followed it if he’d wanted to. It was all about art. Mostly Applewhite art. He did his best, in spite of his total loathing of cooked vegetables, to eat enough to keep body and soul together, slipping bits of zuchini and beet and cooked carrot to the dog at his feet under the table. Though he was apparently willing to eat anything, Winston seemed to enjoy beet greens in particular.
“You’re very lucky to be invited to participate in this amazing educational opportunity,” Bernstein said to Jake at one point. Jake realized the conversation had come around to the Creative Academy. He nodded dutifully. He hadn’t been listening, so he didn’t know whether Bernstein understood why he’d been “invited to participate.”
“You know,” Bernstein went on, addressing the whole family now, “I have a friend who’s a producer for a magazine show on one of the television networks. He’s always looking for stories with enough of a hook to interest the network executives. I’ve never had one to give him before, but I think this could be it. The Applewhite artistic dynasty and the home school designed to perpetuate it. If I may borrow a computer, I could e-mail him the idea tonight. I know it would be an invasion of your privacy, but I think those of us who understand the importance of the arts owe it to the rest of America to give them ataste of what it’s all about.”
Later, while Bernstein and the adults carried the conversation into the living room and Cordelia put Destiny to bed, Jake and E.D. were sent to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. E.D. said nothing at all as they worked, but she crashed plates and glasses into each other so ferociously, Jake was surprised that nothing broke. What’s her problem? Jake wondered, setting the meat platter on the floor for Winston to lick.
Chapter Nine
E .D. slammed the door to her room and threw herself on the bed. Not one word! she thought. Neither her mother nor Zedediah had said a single word about her to Jeremy Bernstein. Her name hadn’t even been mentioned. She might as well have been in Traybridge with her father! Invisible, that’s what she was. The invisible Applewhite. It was too much. She wanted out of this family.
She turned over and lay on her back, staring up at the posters of rock stars she had taped to the ceiling. Cordelia and Hal didn’t have posters of rock stars.They wouldn’t sink so low as to admit they liked what almost every other kid their age in the whole civilized world liked. Oh no. They were much too individual for that. Much too artsy. And that wimpy Jeremy Bernstein probably never had rock stars on his ceiling either. He probably had posters of Shakespeare or Picasso or—or—Edith Wharton!
Well, she had news for her family. She might not have a talent that would get a television producer excited about doing a story on her. But she wouldn’t lose track of the date or forget to go to the grocery when they were out of food. Unlike certain other people, she was going to be able to cope with the real world when she got old enough to go out into it on her own.
The way Jeremy Bernstein had talked about the Creative Academy, anybody would have thought the adults had thought it up specifically to educate the next generation of artistic geniuses. The truth was, she was the only one who was doing anything to keep it any sort of school at all, the only one actually getting an education from it, and the only one making sure that Destiny would get an education.
She had read somewhere that the best way to learn something was to teach it, so she had built in a Teaching Opportunities section to every single project in her curriculum. When she’d learned enough about each project, she taught the main ideas toDestiny. That way he was learning a whole bunch of things he might never
From then on the conversation went on aroundJake so fast and furiously that he wasn’t sure he could have followed it if he’d wanted to. It was all about art. Mostly Applewhite art. He did his best, in spite of his total loathing of cooked vegetables, to eat enough to keep body and soul together, slipping bits of zuchini and beet and cooked carrot to the dog at his feet under the table. Though he was apparently willing to eat anything, Winston seemed to enjoy beet greens in particular.
“You’re very lucky to be invited to participate in this amazing educational opportunity,” Bernstein said to Jake at one point. Jake realized the conversation had come around to the Creative Academy. He nodded dutifully. He hadn’t been listening, so he didn’t know whether Bernstein understood why he’d been “invited to participate.”
“You know,” Bernstein went on, addressing the whole family now, “I have a friend who’s a producer for a magazine show on one of the television networks. He’s always looking for stories with enough of a hook to interest the network executives. I’ve never had one to give him before, but I think this could be it. The Applewhite artistic dynasty and the home school designed to perpetuate it. If I may borrow a computer, I could e-mail him the idea tonight. I know it would be an invasion of your privacy, but I think those of us who understand the importance of the arts owe it to the rest of America to give them ataste of what it’s all about.”
Later, while Bernstein and the adults carried the conversation into the living room and Cordelia put Destiny to bed, Jake and E.D. were sent to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. E.D. said nothing at all as they worked, but she crashed plates and glasses into each other so ferociously, Jake was surprised that nothing broke. What’s her problem? Jake wondered, setting the meat platter on the floor for Winston to lick.
Chapter Nine
E .D. slammed the door to her room and threw herself on the bed. Not one word! she thought. Neither her mother nor Zedediah had said a single word about her to Jeremy Bernstein. Her name hadn’t even been mentioned. She might as well have been in Traybridge with her father! Invisible, that’s what she was. The invisible Applewhite. It was too much. She wanted out of this family.
She turned over and lay on her back, staring up at the posters of rock stars she had taped to the ceiling. Cordelia and Hal didn’t have posters of rock stars.They wouldn’t sink so low as to admit they liked what almost every other kid their age in the whole civilized world liked. Oh no. They were much too individual for that. Much too artsy. And that wimpy Jeremy Bernstein probably never had rock stars on his ceiling either. He probably had posters of Shakespeare or Picasso or—or—Edith Wharton!
Well, she had news for her family. She might not have a talent that would get a television producer excited about doing a story on her. But she wouldn’t lose track of the date or forget to go to the grocery when they were out of food. Unlike certain other people, she was going to be able to cope with the real world when she got old enough to go out into it on her own.
The way Jeremy Bernstein had talked about the Creative Academy, anybody would have thought the adults had thought it up specifically to educate the next generation of artistic geniuses. The truth was, she was the only one who was doing anything to keep it any sort of school at all, the only one actually getting an education from it, and the only one making sure that Destiny would get an education.
She had read somewhere that the best way to learn something was to teach it, so she had built in a Teaching Opportunities section to every single project in her curriculum. When she’d learned enough about each project, she taught the main ideas toDestiny. That way he was learning a whole bunch of things he might never
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