After an afternoon walking in circles around the south perimeter of the forest, Gustav looks exhausted. I want to tell him to sleep. I want to tell him he shouldn’t fly while exhausted.
“Do you think you can see the helicopter today?” he asks. “It’s not Tuesday.”
“I trust you,” I answer.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I fiddle with my hands. My nails grow faster here. Or maybe I didn’t trim them before I left. I think about what day it is. It’s Friday. We arrived yesterday morning. We will leave as the geniuses eat dinner. As I rip my index fingernail shorter, I feel sad for Gustav. “You worked so hard,” I say. “It took you months.”
“Why are you sad?” he asks.
I shrug. “Because it didn’t work out,” I say. I don’t want to use the word failure, so I think this is a good compromise.
“It’s working out,” he says. “It’s all working out.”
I look at him, but he looks over my shoulder and I turn around to find Gary approaching from behind me. He tells Gustav that the recovery mission will move west next, toward the old west field—which is our field—and I stand there thinking about if Gary will miss Patricia when she leaves with us today. I don’t think he will.
Then a voice inside my head starts talking to me.
It’s her.
The other me.
She is panicking. She says, What are you doing? How can you take off with so much extra weight? Why aren’t you staying? Why did you leave? What if you crash? What if when you come back the school really blows up? What if when you come back the tests all come back as zeroes? What if when you come back, Gustav doesn’t love you? What if when you come back, no one likes you anymore? What if they think your lab coat is weird? What if they think you should do more to your hair? What if you’re not Stanzi? What if you’re not Stanzi? What if you’re not Stanzi?