The Tesla Legacy Page 9

  “Why come to the land of barbarians?”

  Ravi regarded her a beat, shifting his jaw back and forth.

  “A change of scene. Less rain.”

  Classic non-answer. Still, instinct told her not to push the issue. Scrambling for a safer, less personal topic of conversation, Lucy sputtered, “Alessandro Volta also invented the first remotely operated pistol.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah. Newton and the Royal Society in London were very interested. So was Napoleon.”

  “I can only imagine. The precursor to the modern drone. War is always profitable—for someone.”

  Lucy coughed. She’d been so impressed by Volta’s technological achievements that she hadn’t thought about the other implications.

  After an awkward lull, Ravi asked, “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Would you want to teach—one day?”

  Standing in front of a class and trying to tame a horde of teenagers made Lucy want to run for the hills.

  “No. I think I’d rather be a researcher. Tucked safely away in my lab.”

  “Sounds like hiding to me.”

  Her insides contorted into a pretzel. “Not a fan of crowds,” she said.

  “Is that why you’ve never entered any science fairs?”

  Ravi had a worrying way of making Lucy want to spill her darkest secrets. She tried to maintain an inscrutable expression.

  “I saw in Mrs. Brandon’s progress reports that she’d encouraged you to enter,” he went on.

  He’d read her file?

  Lucy’s lips lemon-puckered as a million conflicting thoughts whirled around her mind. She didn’t want her medical condition to be the only thing Ravi saw when he looked at her. “Um, yeah,” she hedged. “My parents thought the attention would be too much stress for me.”

  She had fought them on it when Mrs. Brandon first nominated her. Eventually, though, Lucy came to the conclusion they were right. She hadn’t wanted to jeopardize all the strides she’d made controlling her seizures before college.

  “You don’t strike me as someone who caves under pressure, Lucy.”

  The breath caught in her throat. No one—absolutely no one—had ever said that to Lucy before. Their gazes merged and the quiet began to roar.

  Or maybe it was just her.

  Switching back into scientist mode, Lucy resumed her explanation.

  “Anyway, the voltage generated by Volta’s battery is determined by the kind of electrolyte used—saltwater or something else—as well as its concentration. Volta used a combination of saltwater and sulfuric acid but Mrs. Brandon suggested I try copper sulfate instead. Less likely to blind myself.”

  “Cracking,” Ravi agreed with a grin. Lucy shot him a quizzical look. There was another hint of a flush on his cheeks. “I mean, good thinking.”

  “‘Cracking’? That’s not English.”

  “I think you mean it’s not American, because it most certainly is good English.”

  They reached for the iPod resting next to the battery at the same moment and as Ravi’s hand extended from beneath the sleeve of his jacket, Lucy’s eyes landed on a tattoo that spread across the underside of his wrist and up his forearm. She wouldn’t have pegged him for the tattoo type.

  On closer inspection, it was a symbol Lucy recognized. An eight-pointed star that made her think of a blossom unfurling. She’d seen it the other night in the manuscript her mom was translating.

  Lucy brushed her hand unthinkingly over the dark star and pleasure catapulted through her, followed by searing humiliation. Ravi tensed as he exhaled. Oh no. Had she zapped him?

  “It means creation,” he said without inflection.

  No zap. Thankfully.

  “Sorry, I—” Lucy stammered, but he didn’t seem upset. “In which language?”

  “It’s not a language. Not as such.”

  Then why was her mother translating it?

  Lucy’s eyes were drawn back to the outlines of midnight ink overlapping on his skin. She counted the triangles that comprised it without meaning to. It was almost mesmerizing.

  In a soft voice, he offered, “It’s alchemy.”

  “Alchemy?” She released a strained laugh.

  “Alchemy gets a bad rap. But a lot of ancient—and not-so-ancient—scientists were also alchemists.”

  Lucy made a hmm noise. Her dad regarded alchemists as quacks, trying to turn anything and everything into gold. She couldn’t imagine what interest her mom would have in them either. Her mother’s research generally revolved around the depiction of women in the Odyssey or something equally arcane.

  “What does it mean to you?” she asked.

  The question just slipped out, and Lucy recoiled. Yet she did want to know.

  His eyes were steady on hers as he replied.

  “I like the idea that nothing is ever completely destroyed. That it’s just transformed into something else.”

  “You’re talking about energy.”

  “And other things.” There was a longing in his answer that made Lucy want to pry further but Ravi tugged down the sleeve of his jacket, covering the tattoo and effectively ending the conversation. “Right, then, let’s see what kind of energy your battery can create.”

  Taking the hint, Lucy reached for the two wires on either side of the Voltaic pile and connected them to the iPod. A ghostly glow illuminated the screen as the track listing appeared: Miles Davis. “So What.”

  “Not a fan of crowds, but a fan of jazz.” He arched a brow. “Me too. I like the—”

  “Controlled chaos,” they said together.

  Lucy’s heart jackhammered and Ravi seemed equally taken aback, muttering “Great minds,” but garbling the words, a wary set to his shoulders.

  They pressed the Play button simultaneously. A ticklish sensation surged from Lucy’s forefinger like wildfire down her arm and across her chest. She swayed on her feet as the tickles morphed into sparks. It felt like someone was chiseling her brain.

  She didn’t realize her finger was still pressed to the iPod until it began to smoke.

  The riffs of a trumpet floated over Lucy as her eyelids fluttered, her knees turning to jelly, and she slumped toward the floor.

  Lucy only had time to think, Not frakkin’ again, before the world smeared to black.

  SCHOOLGIRL FANTASY, INDEED

  She had no sense of how long she’d been down for the count when her eyes opened on Ravi’s face.

  I’ve got to stop waking up like this.

  Lucy expected to feel cold linoleum beneath her. She didn’t expect to feel scratchy tweed against her cheeks. Oh crap.

  Ravi was crouched beside her and Lucy was cradled in his arms. The scent of cedar, and something peppery, teased her nose. And she liked it. Way too much.

  He surveyed her in an analytical manner, relief washing over him. With a cautious smile, he asked, “Did you dream of electric sheep?”

  From this perspective, Lucy could see the beginning of his five o’clock shadow. Would it be downy or bristly? So beyond the point.

  She blamed the non sequitur on her wooziness. She quickly dabbed at the corners of her mouth, checking for drool.

  Phew. Small mercy.

  Lucy forced a halfhearted laugh and tried to sit up, but her limbs flopped like overcooked spaghetti.

  “Steady,” warned Ravi. He gripped her shoulders firmly. Lucy wasn’t complaining. Not really. In fact, she stifled a sigh.

  “Thanks. Um, did I fall?”

  “I caught you.”

  Lucy peeked up at him. If he was uncomfortable holding her, he didn’t show it. Why would he be? He was simply trying to prevent her from getting a concussion.

  Each and every one of Lucy’s toes curled. She was developing a recklessly rich fantasy life.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him. Electrocuting the teaching assistant was no way to get an A.

  Ravi scrunched his dark brows together, his entire demeanor beco
ming haggard, like a world-weary soldier.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Lucy.” Then his lips quirked and the storm clouds vanished. “Your iPod, however, has gone to the great Apple Store in the sky.”

  She groaned. Not another one.

  “You must have miscalculated the concentration of the electrolyte solution,” he said. “We can recalibrate and try again. I have an old iPod we can sacrifice to the cause.”

  “I didn’t—” Lucy halted her self-defense midstream. She knew the experiment worked perfectly because she’d already run a successful demonstration for Mrs. Brandon. She had calculated the 5 volts necessary to charge the iPod without incident. The electrolytes weren’t the problem—she was. But how could Lucy explain that? She couldn’t exactly tell Ravi it was his touch that sent her pulse soaring.

  Sitting up more slowly, Lucy said, “Okay. I’ll look at my calculations again. Sorry for … sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. That’s science. I have faith in you.”

  Still squatting by her side, Ravi’s face was dangerously close to hers. In Lucy’s mind, anyway. She caught another whiff of pepper and cedar, which didn’t do anything to help clear her head.

  “The nurse is probably still around,” he said.

  Ugh. Twice in one week and Nurse Díaz would definitely tattle to her parents.

  “I’m fine. Just hazard-prone.”

  His mouth curved upward in a wicked way. Feather-light, he tapped the scab that had formed above Lucy’s eyebrow from the stapler incident.

  “Maybe you’re a daredevil.”

  “I thought I was Wonder Woman?”

  “You could be both.”

  She scoffed. “Or neither.”

  “I doubt that.” His voice was low and it sent a shiver straight through her. A completely natural, completely inadvisable shiver.

  He must have noticed—dammit—because he offered Lucy a hand as she pushed to her feet.

  “Are you certain you don’t want to see the nurse? Seemed like a nasty shock.”

  “It was nothing,” she lied. “Don’t want to set the record for most visits to the nurse’s office.”

  “Oh, it would scarcely be a record. I more or less lived in the infirmary at boarding school.”

  Lucy widened her eyes in question and he gave a self-deprecating laugh.

  “I was on the small side for rugby.” Given that Ravi was now over six feet tall, it was hard to believe. Reading her expression, he added, “There were other reasons I was an easy target, but at least my growth spurt kicked in before graduation.” His voice faded out and the tips of his ears changed color.

  Lucy wanted to say something nice but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t reveal her ridiculous crush. And, okay, it was a crush.

  “Can we, um,” she began, “keep this between us? Wouldn’t want people to think I’m some kind of swooning Southern belle.”

  “Absolutely. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Her heart skidded to a stop. If only it could be. If only she could trust him with her preposterous abilities. He did like superhero comics. Maybe he could help her figure out a cure?

  No. As much as Lucy wanted to, she couldn’t get anyone else involved. This was her problem to solve.

  Her gaze was pulled toward the botched experiment. The iPod was charred, as were the wires attached to the Voltaic pile.

  “I guess I should clean up,” she muttered.

  “I’ll do it,” said Ravi. “You take it easy. Get some rest. If you still feel fuzzy later, promise me you’ll see a doctor.”

  “I didn’t intend to actually use Volta’s method, you know.”

  “That can be our secret too.”

  “Shortest teaching career in history?”

  “Precisely.” He grinned.

  Lucy needed to go home. Really. Before she could say anything she might regret later, she scooped up her book bag from another desktop.

  “See you next week!”

  “Have a good weekend, Lucy.”

  They both made awkward half-wave gestures as Lucy walked carefully out the door and down the hallway. If she wanted, she could probably catch the end of Cole’s track practice. A few weeks ago, Lucy had surprised the team with her secret recipe brownies (M&Ms and peanut butter) and Cole had told everyone within earshot that he had the best girlfriend in any of the multiverses. Then he’d winked at her and said, “See, I do pay attention.” Lucy had been pretty sure he’d zoned out when she told him about Schrödinger’s multiple simultaneous universes theory. Schrödinger the scientist, not Schrödinger the cat. Obviously.

  Lucy considered heading to the sports grounds for another thirty seconds but she wasn’t in the mood to deal with Megan’s passive-aggressive BS, and who knew what another kiss from Cole might do to her in her current state? All Lucy needed was for someone to video her puking in the bleachers.

  Besides, she had a new hypothesis to test. There was a voltage meter stashed in her garage and Lucy intended to measure the amount she produced under different conditions. Volta must have been a few slices short of a loaf to use himself as a shock absorber, but the logic also worked in reverse.

  Cole’s hurt face wavered in the back of Lucy’s mind again. Her gut pinched and she reached into the pocket of her jeans to send him a good luck text for his meet tomorrow.

  Empty. No way. Her mom was going to kill her.

  Right as Lucy started to panic, she heard someone calling her name. Ravi waved an iPhone at her as he took a couple of long strides to meet her.

  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” she gushed.

  “I found it on the floor.”

  “You’re a lifesaver.” She swiped the phone from his outstretched hands. “I just got this. It’s my third this year. Like I said, hazard-prone.”

  The Brit gave her an enigmatic smile.

  “Wonder Woman.”

  And then he walked away, leaving Lucy wondering if there were an alternate universe in which he could be right.

  ELECTRIC SLIDE

  The backyard was rain-washed, silvery in the dull morning light. There was something lonely about the sight, which matched Lucy’s mood.

  Cole had never responded to her Good Luck! X text.

  Her sneakers made a squelching noise as she crossed the lawn toward the garage. In the end, Lucy had been too tired after frying the iPod to run any further experiments. Maybe she should have done more than text Cole.

  Could he really be so upset she’d missed his practice that he was giving her the cold shoulder? That wasn’t like him. But then, Lucy hadn’t been herself lately either.

  Her eyes traveled over the frosted blades of grass, sucking her back into the dream she’d had last night, and it wasn’t about electric sheep. Nor was it about a certain Replicant lover, although he may have flitted through her consciousness as she nodded off.

  In the dream, Lucy had been around the same age as in the photo from her father’s desk—the photo she still hadn’t fixed. Her three-year-old self had scampered through a garden, lush and tropical, not like anything on the East Coast. As far as Lucy was aware, she’d never left the Northeast but the flowers in her dream were so vivid she’d been able to scour the Internet upon waking for their phylum and class. Star-shaped jasmine, climbing lilies brighter than flame with bladelike petals, and rambutan fruits that resembled hairy hacky sacks.

  The breeze had been sticky on her face as Dream Lucy ran, hands outstretched, to the roll of thunder in the distance. Lightning lanced the sky and she giggled. This was what she’d been waiting for. Her skipping turned into a gallop.

  No one could catch her.

  Lucy didn’t know what it was like to feel so unfettered. She couldn’t remember not constantly being afraid of her own body.

  Dream Lucy stuck out her tongue with delight to catch the raindrops pelting the blossoms all around her. She watched the water collect and drip from their petals. Another boom of thunder, another giggle. Jagged streaks lit the clouds as i
f they were showing off just for her.

  Her name carried on the wind. Someone was searching for her, urgently. Someone was worried. Not Dream Lucy.

  She raised her hands toward the golden bolts, not caring that her sundress was soaked. At that moment, her mom rounded a coconut tree and discovered her hiding spot. Lucy’s dream mother looked the same only younger, her long blond hair loose around her shoulders, wet and windblown.

  “Lucy, come in from the storm!” she called, and Dream Lucy was confused by her distress.

  Proudly, she told her mother, “I can make lightning too!”

  There was a blinding-white flash as a stream of light jumped from her tiny hands to a magenta orchid plant.

  The petals started to burn, and Dream Lucy smiled.

  With a sigh, flesh-and-blood Lucy unlocked the door to her garage lab. She didn’t put much stock in dreams. Or, she hadn’t before she could pop kernels of corn with her fingertips. Her scientific instincts told her that dreams were simply wish fulfillment, a way to process the fears and desires of the conscious mind. This was nothing more than a manifestation of her fear of being found out as … whatever she was.

  But why did it feel so real?

  Switching on the overhead lights, Lucy smothered the memory of wanting more—more of the lightning, more of the power. The only other time she’d felt that humming beneath her skin was when she made a stapler fly at Megan’s head. She wished she understood the difference between when her post–Tesla Suite symptoms made her feel invincible and when they caused her to pass out.

  Doubt everything.

  One of her dad’s maxims clanged around her brain as she rummaged in a drawer for the voltage meter and plugged it into the mains. If you wanted to seek out the truth, he insisted, you needed to doubt everything. He’d been paraphrasing René Descartes, the French mathematician, which seemed like an odd choice for someone who always seemed so certain about everything.

  Lucy pulled the Tesla Egg from the pocket of her hoodie and set it beside the voltage meter. Next, she retrieved her phone and walked it to the opposite side of the garage for safekeeping. Before she stowed it next to her model of the solar system, she took a quick peek at Cole’s Instagram feed. Ill-advised. Megan was sitting thigh-close to him on the bus to the track meet, making a pouty duck face, while his head was thrown back in a genuine rack-your-body chortle.