Kids nodded. More snickering. Eureka couldn’t help but like the old anchors and terra-cotta vases, but the scarecrows should be drowned.
The docent fumbled her hands into a pair of white gloves, the kind Diana had worn when handling artifacts. Then she reached into a box at her feet and produced an ivory carving. It was an actual-sized duck, very detailed. She tilted the duck toward her audience and used her fingers to part its wings, exposing a cleanly hollowed basin inside. “Ta-da—Bronze Age cosmetics case! Note the craftsmanship. Can anyone deny how finely made he is? This was thousands of years ago!”
“What about these Bronze Age shackles over here?” the same voice jeered from the back of the room. Students jostled to get a look at the persistent heckler. Eureka didn’t waste the energy.
“Looks like your fine craftsmen owned slaves,” he continued.
The docent stood on her toes and squinted at the dark back of the room. “This is a guided tour, young man. There’s an order to things. Does anyone have an actual question back there?”
“Modern tyrants are fine craftsmen, too,” the boy continued, amusing himself.
His voice was starting to sound familiar. Eureka turned around. She saw the top of a blond head facing forward while everyone else was looking back. She crept along the edge of the group to get a clearer look.
“That’s enough,” Ms. Kash scolded, eyeing the Ascension faculty disdainfully, as if amazed none of them had quieted the student.
“Yes, be silent, sir, or leave,” Margaret snapped.
Then Eureka saw him. The tall, pale boy in the corner at the edge of the spotlight’s beam, the tips of his wavy blond hair illuminated. His tone and smirk were casual, but his eyes flashed something darker.
Ander was wearing the same pressed white shirt and dark jeans. Everyone was looking at him. He was looking at Eureka.
“Silence is what causes most of humanity’s problems,” he said.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Margaret said.
“I’m done.” Ander spoke so quietly, Eureka barely heard him.
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll explain the purpose of this early sea voyage,” Margaret said. “The ancient Egyptians established a trade route, perhaps the first one …”
Eureka didn’t hear the rest. She heard her heart, which thundered. She waited for the other students to give up hope of another outburst, to swivel their heads back to the docent; then she edged around the group toward Ander.
His lips were closed, and it was hard to imagine them uttering the obnoxious comments that had drawn her over here. He gave her a slight smile, the last thing she expected. Standing close to him again gave Eureka the feeling of being by the ocean—independent of the starfish border, the sailor-crows, and the Ocean Breeze CD sloshing from the speakers. The ocean was in Ander, his aura. She’d never thought to use a word like “aura” before. He made uncharacteristic impulses feel as natural to her as breathing.
She stood on his left side, both of them facing the docent, and whispered from the corner of her mouth. “You don’t go to Ascension.”
“The docent thinks I go to Condescension.” She heard the smile in his voice.
“You’re not on the Manor track team, either.”
“Can’t get anything past you.”
Eureka’s voice wanted to rise. His composure made her angry. Where they stood, a few steps back from the group and just past the edge of the spotlight, the light was dim, but anyone who turned around could see them. The teachers and kids would hear if she didn’t keep her whisper steady and low.
It seemed strange that more people weren’t staring at Ander. He was so different. He stood out. But they barely noticed him. Apparently everyone assumed Ander went to the school they didn’t, so his behavior wasn’t interesting. His heckling was a forgotten artifact Margaret was delighted to leave unrecovered.
“I know you don’t go to Evangeline,” Eureka said through her teeth.
“For neither education nor entertainment.”
“So what are you doing here?”