“She wouldn’t even need a costume.” Selena laughed.
Astrid and Selena never censored their snarky comments in front of Clara, whether about Clara herself or about other kids, knowing Clara would never repeat them to another kid or report them to a teacher, or even say anything to indicate she’d been listening. They were particularly cruel about Kim, making fun of her mismatched clothes and the fact that she couldn’t afford to eat lunch out. Astrid’s latest was “Kim Garcia should have her memory entirely wiped and start from scratch. Anything would be an improvement.” Occasionally it occurred to Clara to stick up for her old friend, but she never did.
“Ow, I shouldn’t laugh, these things are killing me,” Selena said. She had the latest thing in orthodontics, Bracelesses, tiny adjustable magnets embedded in your teeth. They cost a fortune, but the video Clara had seen about them was right, they were invisible. “Brace yourself!” the announcer intoned. “You won’t believe your eyes—or your smile.” Whenever Clara started watching videos like these, she couldn’t stop. By swiping left she could cut them off after three seconds, but she often tapped on them and went to the advertiser’s channel to watch the whole thing, however long it was. Of course the more she watched, the more advertisers targeted her. There was probably a setting on her phone to disable these videos altogether, but why do that? They were so clever, so penetrating, the way they could isolate one specific thing that was imperfect, whether you knew about it or not, and then solve it like magic. Though she’d seen a couple about memory alteration, which frankly sounded sort of crazy.
“Stop complaining,” Astrid said to Selena.
“But they hurt. How can something you can’t even see hurt so much?”
“I have a paper cut,” Astrid said. “You can’t see it, but it hurts like hell. Do you hear me whining?”
“This morning I bit the inside of my cheek,” Clara said without thinking.
Selena and Astrid exchanged a look and then burst out laughing.
“Ow,” Selena said.
“It’s time for the first incision,” the computer chirped in.
“Well, go on,” Selena said. “What are you waiting for?”
Selena had done nothing so far. Astrid had only turned on the computer. Clara looked at the pinned-down frog and its white belly with faint beige spots. You could practically see through that belly to the dark organs and blue veins.
“Use the scalpel to cut along the center, or midline, of the frog,” the computer said, “bisecting it equally.”
Clara lifted the virtual scalpel and held it in midair.
“Use the scalpel to cut along the center, or midline, of the frog, bisecting it equally,” the computer said in a more scolding tone. Apparently it didn’t like to repeat itself.
“Come on already,” Selena snapped. “Bio ends in ten minutes. Do you want to get marked down?”
Clara held the scalpel to the frog’s throat and moved the scalpel down its belly.
“In a straight line,” Selena said.
Clara’s cut slanted wildly.
“Continue to cut, now with scissors,” the computer said, regaining its composure. “Be careful not to cut too deeply.”
That wasn’t the problem. Clara wasn’t cutting deeply enough.
“Look,” Selena said. “Nick and Dylan have already found the heart and liver.”
They weren’t the only ones. All around the room, other computers were way ahead, cheerfully instructing:
“Separate the skin and muscle; notice the abdominal region. . . .”
“Pin the muscle flaps to allow easy access to the internal organs. . . .”
“Lift the liver gently to observe the lungs. . . .”
“Notice the heart, the red potato with tubes on top. It resembles a human heart. . . .”
While their computer said, sourly, “Continue to cut, now with scissors. Be careful not to cut too deeply.” Abruptly it beeped loudly and said, “Instructions have been repeated repeatedly. Do you need me to alert the teacher?”
“You’re hopeless,” Astrid said.
Mr. Slocum was suddenly there again.
“Clara won’t do what she agreed to do,” Selena told him. “Meanwhile Astrid and I are doing all the work, and we have to share a grade with her!”
“Well?” Mr. Slocum said to Clara. “Explain yourself.”
Clara tried. “The heart is on the inside, the skin on the outside. So it’s already the way it’s supposed to be. Don’t you see? The heart, the potato heart, looks like a real heart—and we shouldn’t see that.”
Mr. Slocum looked at her for several long moments. Finally he said, loud enough for the entire class to hear, “Miss Hartel, report to Ms. Pratt.”
Not to Mr. Silver, the principal, but to Ms. Pratt, the school psychologist. Selena and Astrid exchanged a look of satisfaction. Clara peeled off her gloves. Her fingers were as wrinkled as if she’d taken a long bath. She grabbed her backpack.
“Lesson ended due to inactivity,” the computer said, and then shut off.