The Different Girl

like that. Nothing has happened to May. Nothing is going to happen to her.”
    “Then where is she?” I asked.
    “She’s . . . she’s hiding.”
    “Why?” This was Caroline. “Why does she need to hide? Do we need to hide, too?”
    “No one needs to hide,” said Robbert, getting sharp. “Everyone is fine. May is upset. She’s still sad, about the storm, about everything she lost. She’s going to be sad for a long time, no matter how nice we are to her. She’s going to be sad and angry.”
    “May is angry,” said Eleanor. “More than anyone.”
    “And when she’s angry, it isn’t your fault. Or anyone’s fault. And deep inside May knows that. That’s part of the reason she’s gone, to be by herself for a while. It’s probably the best thing for everyone.”
    “Then where is Irene?” asked Isobel.
    “Irene is trying to find her—”
    “But why? If hiding is the best thing—”
    “Because—to make sure—so we know where she is, just in case. Just to know that she’s okay.”
    “Can we see if she’s okay, too?”
    “Not now.”
    “Can we see if she’s okay later?”
    “We’ll see. Right now we have to talk.”
    “Talk about what?” asked Eleanor.
    “About hiding?” asked Caroline.
    “No. And I need everyone to listen.”
    We all leaned forward on our cots, because we were good at listening. Robbert scratched his nose with his thumb, which helped him decide how to say things. “I also want you to think. We always want you to think, whatever happens. Never forget that. Even if there’s no school—if no one is asking questions—if neither Irene nor I is there—”
    “What about May?”
    “Veronika, be quiet .” Robbert rubbed his eyes by sticking two fingers under his glasses. “Keep your questions to yourselves. Solve them yourselves, all right? You can do that. You can. Right now you need to listen.”
    Making sense of what Robbert said was hard. I could imagine being without him or Irene—like when we went on separate walks—but since it was always temporary and since we talked together afterward and since whatever we did think by ourselves was always rethought depending on the others, I didn’t see why that was so important. I wondered if this was a new assignment—to find May by thinking.
    “Instead of talking about May,” Robbert began, “I want to talk about your parents.”
    All four of us began to blink. No one had said anything about our parents for a very long time, except for May, who just reminded me how much I didn’t know. Apparently Robbert and Irene knew more after all, though they always said they’d told us everything. And now, because we had been very good and studied hard, he had finally decided to tell us.
    “The four of you are not like other girls. You’re not like May. You know that, because you’ve seen her, but you don’t know why. May doesn’t know why either. No matter what she’s said to you, she doesn’t know. May has no idea. She’s ignorant. Don’t ever forget that. Do you understand?”
    We nodded.
    “Good. You’re all going to be smarter than she is. You’re going to be smarter than anyone. And that is because of your parents. Most people have a mother and father, but you four girls had eight mothers and eight fathers. And together they all made each of you. They all made different parts, but each parent cared for each one of you just as much as the others. You are all extremely special. You’re not like anyone else. But when you’re made by that many parents you get made a different way—the whole project is different. It takes time, and it takes up space, all to make four girls. There are places where that work can happen and places where it can’t. And the thing is, those places change. Because some people . . . well, they get angry at what’s different, angry at what they don’t understand. All right?”
    I nodded, doing very well not to interrupt. We had so many things to ask.
    “Good. Now, we told you there was a plane crash. There was a plane crash. And all your parents were killed. But there were two planes that day. One of them exploded and one of them didn’t. The truth is that the explosion wasn’t an accident. Your parents’ plane exploded deliberately.” Robbert stopped to scratch his nose. “People stopped it from taking off by blowing it up—angry people—ignorant people—and everyone on that plane was killed. The second plane escaped. Only Irene and I were on it, and the four of you.