“Listen,” Sarah called, “it’s okay if you can’t find any.”
“I’m looking. . . .”
“Is there any dishwashing liquid?”
Kelly paused. There was a green plastic bottle by the sink. “Yes, Dr. Harding, but—”
“Give it to me. It’s all the same stuff. I don’t care.” The hand reached out, past the shower curtain. Kelly handed it to her. “And my name is Sarah.”
“Okay, Dr. Harding.”
“Sarah.”
“Okay, Sarah.”
Sarah Harding was a regular person. Very informal and normal.
Entranced, Kelly sat on the seat in the kitchen and waited, swinging her feet, in case Dr. Harding—Sarah—needed anything else. She listened to Sarah humming “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair.” After a few moments, the shower turned off, and her hand reached out and took the towel on the hook. And then she came out, wrapped in the towel.
Sarah ran her fingers through her short hair, which seemed to be all the attention she gave to her appearance. “That feels better. Boy, this is a plush field trailer. Doc really did a great job.”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s nice.”
She smiled at Kelly. “How old are you, Kelly?”
“Thirteen.”
“What is that, eighth grade?”
“Seventh.”
“Seventh grade,” Sarah said, thoughtfully.
Kelly said, “Dr. Malcolm left some clothes for you. He said he thought they’d fit.” She pointed to a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt.
“Whose are these?”
“I think they’re Eddie’s.”
Sarah held them up. “Might work.” She took them around the corner, into the sleeping area, and started getting dressed. She said, “What are you going to do when you grow up?”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said.
“That’s a very good answer.”
“It is?” Kelly’s mother was always pushing her to get a part-time job, to decide what she wanted to do with her life.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “Nobody smart knows what they want to do until they get into their twenties or thirties.”
“Oh.”
“What do you like to study?”
“Actually, uh, I like math,” she said, in a sort of guilty voice.
Sarah must have heard her tone, because she said, “What’s wrong with math?”
“Well, girls aren’t good at it. I mean, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” Sarah’s voice was flat.
Kelly felt panic. She had been experiencing this warm feeling with Sarah Harding, but now she sensed it was dissolving away, as if she had given a wrong answer to a disapproving teacher. She decided not to say anything else. She waited in silence.
After a moment Sarah came out again, wearing Eddie’s baggy clothes. She sat down and started putting on a pair of boots. She moved in a very normal, matter-of-fact way. “What did you mean, girls aren’t good at mathematics?”
“Well, that’s what everybody says.”
“Everybody like who?”
“My teachers.”
Sarah sighed. “Great,” she said, shaking her head. “Your teachers . . .”
“And the other kids call me a brainer. Stuff like that. You know.” Kelly just blurted it out. She couldn’t believe that she was saying all this to Sarah Harding, whom she hardly knew at all except from articles and pictures, but here she was, telling her all this personal stuff. All these things that upset her.
Sarah just smiled cheerfully. “Well, if they say that, you must be pretty good at math, huh?”
“I guess.”
She smiled. “That’s wonderful, Kelly.”
“But the thing is, boys don’t like girls who are too smart.”
Sarah’s eyebrows went up. “Is that so?”
“Well, that’s what everybody says. . . .”
“Like who?”
“Like my mom.”
“Uh-huh. And she probably knows what she’s talking about.”
“I don’t know,” Kelly admitted. “My mom only dates jerks, actually.”
“So she could be wrong?” Sarah asked, glancing up at Kelly as she tied her laces.
“I guess.”
“Well, in my experience, some men like smart women, and some don’t. It’s like everything else in the world.” She stood up. “You know about George Schaller?”
“Sure. He studied pandas.”
“Right. Pandas, and before that, snow leopards and lions and gorillas. He’s the most important animal researcher in the twentieth century—and you know how he works?”
Kelly shook her head.
“Before he goes into the field, George reads everything that’s ever been written about the animal he’s going to study. Popular books, newspaper accounts, scientific papers, everything. Then he goes out and observes the animal for himself. And you know what he usually finds?”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“That nearly everything that’s been written or said is wrong. Like the gorilla. George studied mountain gorillas ten years before Dian Fossey ever thought of it. And he found that what was believed about gorillas was exaggerated, or misunderstood, or just plain fantasy—like the idea that you couldn’t take women on gorilla expeditions, because the gorillas would rape them. Wrong. Everything . . . just .
. . wrong.”
Sarah finished tying her boots, and stood.
“So, Kelly, even at your young age, there’s something you might as well learn now. All your life people will tell you things. And most of the time, probably ninety-five percent of the time, what they’ll tell you will be wrong.”
Kelly said nothing. She felt oddly disheartened to hear this.
“It’s a fact of life,” Sarah said. “Human beings are just stuffed full of misinformation. So it’s hard to know who to believe. I know how you feel.”
“You do?”
“Sure. My mom used to tell me I’d never amount to anything.” She smiled. “So did some of my professors.”
“Really?” It didn’t seem possible.
“Oh yes,” Sarah said. “As a matter of fact—”
From the other section of the trailer, they heard Malcolm say, “No! No! Those idiots! They could ruin everything!”
Sarah immediately turned, and went into the other section. Kelly jumped off the seat, and hurried after her.
The men were all clustered around the monitor. Everyone was talking at once, and they seemed to be upset. “This is terrible,” Malcolm was saying. “Terrible!”
Thorne said, “Is that a Jeep?”
“They had a red Jeep,” Harding said, coming up to look.
“Then it’s Dodgson,” Malcolm said. “Damn!”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I can guess.”
Kelly pushed through to get a look. On the screen, she saw foliage, and intermittent flashes of a red-and-black vehicle.
“Where are they now?” Malcolm said to Arby.
“I think they’re in the east valley,” Arby said. “Near where we found Dr. Levine.”
The radio clicked. Levine’s voice said, “Do you mean there are now other people on the island?”
“Yes, Richard.”
“Well, you better go stop them, before they mess everything up.”