Denise,
for fear everyone would laugh. But if Charlie thought the hovercraft had
potential, then Eve finally had something to tell Denise that her brainy sister
might find interesting.
Denise
wouldn't have left her apartment for her first class yet. Pulling out her cell
phone, Eve hit the speed-dial. Sisters should be closer than she and Denise
were, but she'd never known how to bridge the gap. The hovercraft might be
just the thing.
Halfway
through the first ring, Denise picked up. "Hey, glamour girl. You must be
on the train."
"Why would you think
I'm on the train?"
"You always call me
from the train."
"I
do not." But it was true. On the train she had time to think about things
like why she and Denise didn't have the bond that Hallmark said they were
supposed to have. Then she'd drum up some excuse to call and see if that bond
had mysteriously developed since the last time they'd talked.
"Yes
you do, but that's okay. You have demands on your time."
Eve
sighed. Was Denise being sarcastic or did she really mean it? "You have
demands, too. We're both busy. I know you have class, so—"
"I have to walk out
the door in five minutes. What's up?"
The
clock was ticking. Eve pictured her sister standing by the door in all her
orderly perfection—short black hair washed and styled, black pantsuit free of
all wrinkles, white blouse spotless, briefcase packed with the notes she'd need
for the day. Denise was always ahead of schedule, which left time for
interruptions like Eve's phone call.
Eve,
on the other hand, was usually behind schedule, distracted by the ideas
churning in her head like fruit in a blender. But one of those projects might
turn into something great. She wanted to tell Denise about the hovercraft,
but she thought it would be classier to lead up to it. Unfortunately, with only
five minutes ... less than five minutes, now, she didn't have much time to lead
up.
"Eve? You still
there?"
"Uh,
yeah." She saw the conductor coming down the aisle. "Hold on a
sec." After some searching, she found her ticket stuck between the pages
of the book on biomass research she'd brought to read on the train. She handed
it to the conductor, and before she could reconsider, she blurted out her news.
"Denise, I've invented something."
A
full second passed before Denise spoke. "Invented something? What do you
mean?"
"I've
had this idea for a long time, and now that I have a house with a garage, I've
been designing it. The bugs aren't worked out yet, but a friend of mine who's
an engineer thinks that it has—"
"Back
up. You're building something in your garage! Eve,
I can't even begin to take this in. You're a model, not a... a... You don't
invent things. Period. That's crazy."
Eve
should have expected this reaction, but it got to her, anyway. "I guess
you forgot the time I tied a rocket to the back of my Barbie and shot her over
the neighbors' roof."
Denise
gasped. "You've invented a personal rocket system?"
"Not exactly, but—"
"Omigod.
It's all coming back to me. The motorized wagon that ran us into the duck pond.
The catapult that smashed a two-hundred-year-old stained-glass window at the
church. Disaster at every turn."
"Denise,
it wasn't that bad." Those things had happened before Eve had learned to
keep her inventions a secret.
"Oh
yes it was. Barbie's leg ended up in Mrs. Jorgen-son's flower bed and one arm
was in the apple tree behind the Mastersons' house. We never found her head,
except I swear that Edgar Abernathy was using it as a parking lot gizmo for the
antenna of his car."
"I'm
not building a rocket," Eve said. That's the next project.
"I
don't care! You could kill yourself, Eve! You're not to work on this anymore,
understand?"
Eve's jaw clenched, exactly
the way it used to when she was eight and Denise was a very superior twelve.
"It's not a rocket. And I will work on it. Once Charlie helps me iron out
the problems, I will really have something."
"Are you going into
the city or going home?"
"Into
for fear everyone would laugh. But if Charlie thought the hovercraft had
potential, then Eve finally had something to tell Denise that her brainy sister
might find interesting.
Denise
wouldn't have left her apartment for her first class yet. Pulling out her cell
phone, Eve hit the speed-dial. Sisters should be closer than she and Denise
were, but she'd never known how to bridge the gap. The hovercraft might be
just the thing.
Halfway
through the first ring, Denise picked up. "Hey, glamour girl. You must be
on the train."
"Why would you think
I'm on the train?"
"You always call me
from the train."
"I
do not." But it was true. On the train she had time to think about things
like why she and Denise didn't have the bond that Hallmark said they were
supposed to have. Then she'd drum up some excuse to call and see if that bond
had mysteriously developed since the last time they'd talked.
"Yes
you do, but that's okay. You have demands on your time."
Eve
sighed. Was Denise being sarcastic or did she really mean it? "You have
demands, too. We're both busy. I know you have class, so—"
"I have to walk out
the door in five minutes. What's up?"
The
clock was ticking. Eve pictured her sister standing by the door in all her
orderly perfection—short black hair washed and styled, black pantsuit free of
all wrinkles, white blouse spotless, briefcase packed with the notes she'd need
for the day. Denise was always ahead of schedule, which left time for
interruptions like Eve's phone call.
Eve,
on the other hand, was usually behind schedule, distracted by the ideas
churning in her head like fruit in a blender. But one of those projects might
turn into something great. She wanted to tell Denise about the hovercraft,
but she thought it would be classier to lead up to it. Unfortunately, with only
five minutes ... less than five minutes, now, she didn't have much time to lead
up.
"Eve? You still
there?"
"Uh,
yeah." She saw the conductor coming down the aisle. "Hold on a
sec." After some searching, she found her ticket stuck between the pages
of the book on biomass research she'd brought to read on the train. She handed
it to the conductor, and before she could reconsider, she blurted out her news.
"Denise, I've invented something."
A
full second passed before Denise spoke. "Invented something? What do you
mean?"
"I've
had this idea for a long time, and now that I have a house with a garage, I've
been designing it. The bugs aren't worked out yet, but a friend of mine who's
an engineer thinks that it has—"
"Back
up. You're building something in your garage! Eve,
I can't even begin to take this in. You're a model, not a... a... You don't
invent things. Period. That's crazy."
Eve
should have expected this reaction, but it got to her, anyway. "I guess
you forgot the time I tied a rocket to the back of my Barbie and shot her over
the neighbors' roof."
Denise
gasped. "You've invented a personal rocket system?"
"Not exactly, but—"
"Omigod.
It's all coming back to me. The motorized wagon that ran us into the duck pond.
The catapult that smashed a two-hundred-year-old stained-glass window at the
church. Disaster at every turn."
"Denise,
it wasn't that bad." Those things had happened before Eve had learned to
keep her inventions a secret.
"Oh
yes it was. Barbie's leg ended up in Mrs. Jorgen-son's flower bed and one arm
was in the apple tree behind the Mastersons' house. We never found her head,
except I swear that Edgar Abernathy was using it as a parking lot gizmo for the
antenna of his car."
"I'm
not building a rocket," Eve said. That's the next project.
"I
don't care! You could kill yourself, Eve! You're not to work on this anymore,
understand?"
Eve's jaw clenched, exactly
the way it used to when she was eight and Denise was a very superior twelve.
"It's not a rocket. And I will work on it. Once Charlie helps me iron out
the problems, I will really have something."
"Are you going into
the city or going home?"
"Into
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