Six (2 page)

“The person I admire most is my father, Dr. Geoffrey Banks. . . .”

As soon as he said it, a wave of muffled laughter traveled across the class.

“The reason I chose my father . . .”

There was some more stifled giggling. Parker clenched his jaw and looked over at Mrs. Ford.

“You're doing fine,” she said, glaring at somebody sitting in the last row.

“The reason is that not only has he brought up my sister and me on his own for the last three years, but also that he has done this while working on some of the most important research that's going on right now in the science world. My father . . .”

There was another wave of muffled laughter, and Parker felt his whole body tense. He turned to Mrs. Ford, who motioned for him to keep going.

He took a deep breath but didn't look up.
It's just a few minutes,
he told himself,
then you can forget this whole thing.

“My father is a molecular biophysicist,” continued Parker. “While still a student at Cambridge University, my father and mother, who was also a scientist, were on a team that worked on sequencing DNA. DNA is the molecule that instructs each cell in an organism to tell it what to do and can . . .”

As Parker began to explain what DNA was, he saw a girl at the side rolling her eyes in boredom, and another one smirking. He turned and saw a boy—Aaron, if he remembered correctly—leaning over and whispering something to the boy sitting next to him. They were both grinning.

In that moment, Parker decided he didn't even care about the grade he got for this. He just wanted it to be over. He looked back at his sheet and ran his finger down the page until he got to the final paragraph.

“My father's work has influenced everything from DNA testing to cloning. I admire him very much—as a person and for his work—and, because of his influence, I also hope to be a scientist one day. Thank you.”

Parker was already halfway back to his desk before most people realized that he had finished. There was no applause.

Red-faced, Parker sat down. He folded his arms and didn't look up, even when Mrs. Ford thanked him for his brief but interesting presentation. He felt like such an idiot. If only he'd chosen an astronaut or someone who everyone knew, he thought. And yet, feeling his embarrassment begin to turn to anger . . . It hadn't actually been
that
bad. Sure, he'd chosen his dad, but his dad had an interesting job. In his opinion, choosing Missy May was far worse. It was only when the bell went and everybody jumped out of their seats and started to rush past him to the door that he realized they hadn't been laughing at his choice of subject.

“Farth-uhhh,” he heard somebody say in a mock English accent. Everybody around him started laughing. A couple of other people—Parker didn't look up to see who—repeated it.

“Farth-uhhh!”

Parker felt his face burning as he realized they weren't laughing at
what
he'd said but at
how
he'd said it. Right now, even though he'd chosen him for his presentation, Parker hated his dad for making them move here.

Parker would have stayed in the classroom for the entire lunch break had Mrs. Ford not insisted on escorting him to the cafeteria. As they walked, Parker kept his head down and listened in silence as Mrs. Ford did her best to offer him some words of comfort.

“Just remember,” said Mrs. Ford as they hovered by the cafeteria entrance, “the first week is always the hardest.”

“I know. Thanks,” mumbled Parker. There was an awkward pause as he waited for her to leave.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” asked Mrs. Ford finally.

Parker's head snapped up. “No. I'm fine.”

Before she had a chance to insist, Parker quickly walked away.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The lunch line was long, and as Parker waited and did his best to ignore the whispers of a group of students from his English class ahead of him, the now-familiar pangs of missing England bubbled deeply in his gut. He had hoped, over the first two weeks after his arrival, that those pangs would disappear once he started school. Unfortunately, he thought miserably, the exact opposite had turned out to be true. He paid for his lunch, tray in hand, and caught sight of his sister waving him over.

Despite how he felt, it was true that he wasn't completely alone. He did have his dad and sister, yes, but he couldn't talk about his loneliness with either of them. Since starting his new job, his father had been so stressed and overworked that he no longer had any time to spend with them. And Emma, well, he'd always been the one to watch out for her. Anyway, even if he were to confide in her, he already knew exactly what she would say:

Of course you'll make friends. Stop being such a pessimist.

She
would
say this though because, being ten, she was two years younger than he was and because, unlike him, she had settled into their new American life with annoying ease. It was also because she had only recently learned the word
pessimist
and liked to drop it into conversation as much as possible. In Parker's opinion, however, there was a big difference between being a pessimist and a realist. A pessimist expected the worst at all times. A realist expected the worst only with good reason. He was a realist.

Emma waved again, thinking Parker hadn't seen her. She was sitting at a table surrounded by her new friends: all girls, all ten years old. Even if this hadn't bothered him—which it did—the table was packed anyway. Emma, having apparently already taken this into account, pointed to a two-inch gap between the two girls opposite her. Thankfully, Parker had already spotted an empty table a bit farther along, and he motioned over to it with his head. Emma didn't seem bothered. She shrugged and turned to her friends.

“He doesn't want to be seen hanging out with us,”
she signed, smiling.

“I don't blame him,”
signed her friend, opposite.

He heard them all laugh as he walked over to the table and sat down.

Emma was deaf. She had been born with a damaged auditory nerve that meant she couldn't hear any sounds at all. This was the reason that their father had enrolled them here at River Creek instead of at the middle school closer to their new home: this one had a deaf unit attached and would allow Parker to keep an eye on his sister. Emma had objected, arguing that she was now old enough to take care of herself. Their father hadn't agreed. As it turned out, Parker thought as he unwrapped his sandwich, she had been right. Emma wasn't the one that their father had needed to worry about.

“Mind if we sit here?”

Parker looked up and saw three girls standing next to him. He recognized them all from his English class that morning. Becky, the one with the long red hair and freckles, had been at the front, giggling when he'd been talking. Next to her was Jenna, the Missy May fan. He couldn't remember the third one's name. This was the first time any of them had spoken to him.

Parker hesitated before deciding that it would only cause him more problems if he refused.

“No, go ahead,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” said Becky. She placed a tray next to Parker's and climbed over the bench. Jenna and the other girl sat down opposite him and started talking between themselves.

“I'm not saying I don't like her, but I don't think her last album was the best one.”

“Are you
crazy
? Did you actually listen to it?”

“Yeah. I just didn't like it that much.”

“Fine, but you're wrong. ‘Lipstick Your Love Away' already won a ton of awards.”

“That doesn't mean . . .”

I
really
need to get out of here,
thought Parker. He picked up his sandwich and took as big a bite as he could manage, gulping it down with a large swig of orange juice. Before he had swallowed properly, he was already taking another bite. He was about to wash it down with another gulp of juice when Becky, sitting next to him, interrupted him.

“Are you from England?”

The two other girls stopped talking to listen.

Parker, his cheeks stuffed so full of food that he looked like a hamster, nodded.

“Where?”

Parker couldn't answer, at least not without spitting his half-chewed sandwich out onto the table. The prolonged silence grew awkward as he tried to chew his food as quickly as possible while the three girls stared at him. Finally Parker swallowed.

“A place called Kent. It's near London,” he said at last.

As soon as he spoke, the girl next to Jenna giggled. Parker's jaw tightened.
Here we go again,
he thought. Here, however, unlike in class, he didn't have to stick around to be laughed at. He picked up his cup, took another swig of juice, and looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. He would have to leave it unfinished. He took ahold of his tray and was about to stand up when Jenna interrupted him.

“Your accent is—”

“Really funny. Yeah, I know,” said Parker.

“No!” said Jenna. “It's awesome!”

Parker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“It is!” agreed the girl next to her. “It's cool. Say something else.”

Parker narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

“Say ‘egg,'  ” said Jenna.

Parker looked confused. “Egg.”

Jenna looked disappointed. “Oh, it's kind of the same.”

The girls went quiet and, seeing an opportunity to escape, he went to stand up again.

“I know! Water!” said Jenna. “Say that!”

Parker hesitated and looked at Jenna. She was smiling with what looked like genuine interest.

He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Water,” he said finally.

The girls giggled again but, Parker realized with some surprise, they didn't appear to be laughing at him. He allowed himself a small smile. Maybe it wasn't all that bad, he thought.

For the next few minutes the girls quizzed him about life in England.

“Does it always rain?”

“Have you been to Buckingham Palace?”

“Did you wear a uniform at your old school?”

“Is it weird driving on the wrong side of the road?”

Parker answered their questions, and the girls listened to him, completely fascinated. As he loosened up, he began to wonder if he might have been overreacting about the incident earlier. No sooner had he thought that than a group of boys from his year came over and sat down at the other end of the table.

“Hey, Aaron!” called Jenna.

“What?” asked Aaron.

“Listen to this. He . . . What's your name again?”

“Parker.”

“Yeah. Parker sounds like Shakespeare or something. Say ‘water' again, Parker.”

Parker looked over at the group of boys staring at him.

“I really don't want to,” he mumbled.

“Oh, come on!
Please?
”

Parker hesitated.
They're just interested,
he told himself. No harm.

“Water,” he finally said with a shrug.

The boys didn't react.

“Isn't it cute?” asked Jenna.

Parker tensed.
Cute?
He felt himself turning red.

Aaron shrugged. “It's just a stupid accent.”

Jenna flicked her head in disgust, and her plaits flew behind her. “You're just jealous.”

Aaron's jaw clenched. “You're such a loser, Jenna.”

“Whatever, Aaron. At least
I
don't sound like . . .”

There was a pause as Jenna searched for the right insult.

“A donkey.”

Everyone burst out laughing, and Parker, horrified at the way the conversation had suddenly turned, decided that this might be a good moment to leave. He stood up.

“Don't let him bother you,” said Becky, turning to face him. “He's always like that.”

Parker looked over to see Aaron glaring at Jenna.

“Actually,” said Parker, “I have to go. I, uh, have to get something from the library.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” said Becky.

Parker stood up and grabbed his tray. Becky and the girl opposite waved, and Parker nodded back. Jenna was too involved in her staring match with Aaron to notice him hurrying off.

What was that all about?
he thought as he cleared his lunch off into the trash. He put the empty tray on top of one of the lunch carts and was about to walk away when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned.

“Hey,” said Aaron, with a nod.

Parker nodded back, his mind racing to assess the situation. Was Aaron planning to start a fight? Though they were the same age and looked similar (well, they were both the same build and had brown eyes and messy short brown hair), Aaron was a couple of inches taller than he was. He was also on the wrestling team. Parker straightened and pushed his shoulders back.

“What do you want?” asked Parker.

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry,” said Aaron.

Parker hadn't expected that.

“Those girls are just idiots,” continued Aaron. “Your accent is cool.”

Parker stared at him for a moment as he thought about how Aaron had been whispering and laughing during his presentation. Was he being sincere now? Parker had no idea.

“Um, okay. Thanks,” said Parker.

“What was the word they were getting you to say?” asked Aaron.

Oh, right,
thought Parker, his eyes narrowing. It was obvious where this was going.

“I'm not stupid,” he said. “I have to go.”

He turned to leave, but Aaron stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Oh, come on,” said Aaron.

Parker paused and stared at Aaron.

“Seriously, I'm really sorry,” said Aaron. “It wasn't about you. It's just Jenna—she drives me nuts.” He couldn't be sure, but Aaron did seem to look genuinely apologetic. Parker didn't reply but he didn't leave, either.