She plotted a path through the labyrinth of bodies to a disheveled group of men who looked as if they’d just received some very bad news.
“Elizabeth Zott,” she said firmly, holding out her hand. No one took it.
“Zott will be rowing two seat today,” Mason said. “Bill broke his leg.”
Silence.
“Coach,” Dr. Mason said, turning to a homicidal-looking man. “This is the rower I told you about.”
Silence.
“Some of you may remember, she rowed with us before.”
Silence.
“Any questions?”
Silence.
“Let’s get going then.” He tipped his head at the coxswain.
* * *
—
“I think that went well, don’t you?” Dr. Mason said later as they walked to their cars. She turned to look at him. When she was in labor and in horrific pain, convinced the baby was snatching her internal organs like suitcases as if to ensure she’d have plenty to wear on the outside, she screamed so violently the bed frame shook. Once the contraction passed, she’d opened her eyes to see Dr. Mason leaning over her. See? he’d said. Not so bad, right?
She fiddled with her car keys. “I think the coxswain and coach would disagree.”
“Oh that,” he said, waving it off with his hand. “Normal. I thought you knew. New rower gets blamed for everything. You mostly rowed with Evans—you don’t really understand the finer points of rowing culture. Just give it a few rows; you’ll see.”
She hoped he was being honest, because the truth was, she’d loved being out on the water again. She felt exhausted, but in a good way.
“What I find interesting about rowing,” Dr. Mason was saying, “is that it’s always done backwards. It’s almost as if the sport itself is trying to teach us not to get ahead of ourselves.” He opened his car door. “Actually, when you think about it, rowing is almost exactly like raising kids. Both require patience, endurance, strength, and commitment. And neither allow us to see where we’re going—only where we’ve been. I find that very reassuring, don’t you? Except for the flip-outs—of course. I could really do with fewer flip-outs.”
“You mean flips.”
“Flip-outs,” he insisted, getting in his car. “Yesterday one of my kids hit the other with a shovel.”
Chapter 20
Life Story
Although she was only almost four, Mad was already bigger than most five-year-olds and could read better than many sixth graders. But despite these physical and intellectual strides, just like her antisocial mother and grudge-holding father, she had few friends.
“I’m worried it could be a gene mutation,” Elizabeth confided to Harriet. “Calvin and I could both be carriers.”
“The I-hate-people gene?” Harriet said. “There is one?”
“Shyness,” corrected Elizabeth. “Introversion. So guess what: I’ve enrolled her in kindergarten. The new school year starts Monday and suddenly it made so much sense. Mad needs to be around children—you’ve said so yourself.”
It was true. Harriet had voiced that opinion at least a hundred times in the last few years. Madeline was a precocious child with extraordinary verbal and comprehension abilities, but Harriet wasn’t convinced she was gaining in average areas—how to tie shoes, how to play with dolls. The other day she’d suggested they make mud pies and Mad frowned, then wrote 3.1415 with a stick in the dirt. “Done,” she’d said.
Besides, if Mad went off to school, what was she, Harriet, supposed to do with her day? She’d grown accustomed to being necessary.
“She’s too young,” Harriet insisted. “She has to be at least five years old. Better, six.”
“They mentioned that,” Elizabeth said. “Nevertheless, she’s in.”
What Elizabeth neglected to say was that it wasn’t because Madeline was bright, but rather because Elizabeth had determined the chemical composition of ballpoint pen ink and found a way to alter Madeline’s birth certificate. Technically, Mad was far too young to be in kindergarten, but Elizabeth didn’t see what a technicality had to do with her daughter’s education.
“Woody Elementary,” she said, handing Harriet a sheet of paper. “Mrs. Mudford. Room six. I realize she might be a little more advanced than some of the other children, but I doubt she’ll be the only one reading Zane Grey, don’t you?”
Six-Thirty lifted his head in concern. He wasn’t so thrilled to hear this news either. Mad in school? What about his job? How could he protect the creature if she was in a classroom?