“Gretchen,” she said, extending her hand to me.
“Hello,” I said, taking it.
“I’m interested in your boredom and would like to hear more,” Gretchen said.
Okay, I thought. I like her too.
Savitri smiled. “Well, since you two seem to be equally matched, I have to go,” she said. “There are containers of soil conditioners that need my attention.” She gave me a peck, waved to Gretchen, and left.
“Soil conditioners?” Gretchen said to me, after she had gone.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“I’ve got nothing but time,” Gretchen said.
“Savitri is the assistant to my parents, who are heading up a new colony,” I said, and pointed to the Magellan. “That’s the ship we’re going on. One of Savitri’s jobs is to make sure that everything that’s on the manifest list actually gets put on the ship. I guess she’s up to soil conditioners.”
“Your parents are John Perry and Jane Sagan,” Gretchen said.
I stared at her for a minute. “Yeah,” I said. “How do you know?”
“Because my dad talks about them a lot,” she said, and motioned toward the Magellan. “This colony your parents are leading? It was his idea. He was Erie’s representative on the CU legislature, and for years he argued that people from established colonies should be able to colonize, not just people from Earth. Finally the Department of Colonization agreed with him—and then it gave the leadership of the colony to your parents instead of him. They told my dad it was a political compromise.”
“What did your dad think about that?” I asked.
“Well, I just met you,” Gretchen said. “I don’t know what sort of language you can handle.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not good,” I said.
“I don’t think he hates your parents,” Gretchen said, quickly. “It’s not like that. He just assumed that after everything he did, he’d get to lead the colony. ‘Disappointment’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Although I wouldn’t say he likes your parents, either. He got a file on them when they were appointed and then spent the day muttering to himself as he read it.”
“I’m sorry he’s disappointed,” I said. In my head I was wondering if I needed to write Gretchen off as a possible friend; one of those stupid “our houses are at war” scenarios. The first person my age I meet, going to Roanoke, and we were already in different camps.
But then she said, “Yeah, well. At a certain point he got a little stupid about it. He was comparing himself to Moses, like, Oh, I’ve led my people to the promised land but I can’t enter myself”—and here she made little hand movements to accentuate the point—“and that’s when I decided he was overreacting. Because we’re going, you know. And he’s on your parents’ advisory council. So I told him to suck it up.”
I blinked. “You actually used those words?” I said.
“Well, no,” Gretchen said. “What I actually said was I wondered if I kicked a puppy if it would whine more than he did.” She shrugged. “What can I say. Sometimes he needs to get over himself.”
“You and I are so totally going to be best friends,” I said.
“Are we?” she said, and grinned at me. “I don’t know. What are the hours?”
“The hours are terrible,” I said. “And the pay is even worse.”
“Will I be treated horribly?” she asked.
“You will cry yourself to sleep on a nightly basis,” I said.
“Fed crusts?” she asked.
“Of course not,” I said. “We feed the crusts to the dogs.”
“Oh, very nice,” she said. “Okay, you pass. We can be best friends.”
“Good,” I said. “Another life decision taken care of.”
“Yes,” she said, and then moved away from the rail. “Now, come on. No point wasting all this attitude on ourselves. Let’s go find something to point and laugh at.”
Phoenix Station was a lot more interesting after that.
SEVEN
Here’s what I did when my dad took me down to Phoenix: I visited my own grave.
Clearly, this needs an explanation.
I was born and lived the first four years of my life on Phoenix. Near where I lived, there is a cemetery. In that cemetery is a headstone, and on that headstone are three names: Cheryl Boutin, Charles Boutin and Zo? Boutin.
My mother’s name is there because she is actually buried there; I remember being there for her funeral and seeing her shroud put into the ground.