The School for the Insanely Gifted Read Free Page A

Cynthia had a healthy appreciation of her own abilities.
    â€œSo what is this thingamabob that you’re driving, anyway?” Cynthia went on to Harkin. “I keep expecting it to either break down or take off to Jupiter. It’s really made of a bunch of taxis?”
    â€œAnd the front seats are from a bus,” Harkin said. “That’s why it’s got such good legroom.”
    â€œHave you shown this rig to your parents?” Daphna asked.
    â€œNot yet.” Harkin grimaced. “If you can believe it, my dad wants me to come to his lab this Saturday to help him work on some new experiments on the wingspan of a housefly.” He honked at a bus and went on. “What could be duller than studying a fly? I was going to spend the weekend finally perfecting Gum-Top!”
    â€œGum-Top?” Cynthia said. “You’re still working on that old thing?”
    Harkin nodded. He was just as passionate about his ideas as Cynthia was about hers. “I’m aiming to test it soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
    â€œWait a second,” Daphna said. “You mean you’ve really done it?”
    The idea was so old that she had forgotten whose idea it had been. Cynthia, the gum chewer, claimed she had thought of it back in first grade. Daphna remembered getting the idea herself a year later one day during recess. Regardless of who was responsible, Daphna had never given it much of a chance. How could a stick of gum be made to work as a minicomputer that allowed its user to see websites in their head as they chewed?
    Harkin accelerated past a taxi. “Darn right, I’ve done it! I just need to make a few minor adjustments.”
    â€œWell, lemme be your guinea pig when you test it,” Cynthia said. “I’ll chew and run searches on rich Broadway producers at the same time.”
    â€œDeal.”
    Harkin took a wide turn and rumbled down 100th Street.
    â€œThanks for the ride,” Daphna said as her friend slowed in front of her building.
    Harkin turned to her. “You sure you don’t want to come with us to the cast party?”
    â€œSorry,” she said. “Too tired. You guys have fun.”
    â€œThe mayor is supposed to drop by,” Cynthia said. “He promised to do a belly dance.”
    â€œRecord it for me on your phone.” Daphna faked a yawn.
    â€œYou don’t fool me, kiddo,” Cynthia said, blowing another bubble. “You’re going to get right back to work on that rhapsody of yours.”
    Daphna poked Cynthia’s bubble with a finger, popping it.
    â€œMaybe,” she said.
    Daphna gave Cynthia a quick kiss on the cheek, climbed over Harkin, and stumbled onto the sidewalk. After Daphna retrieved her scooter from the contraption’s triangular trunk, Harkin called, “Later, Daph, dude!” and peeled out. Daphna chained her scooter to her usual streetlight and trotted up the front steps. The door to Ron’s apartment swung open the minute she stepped out of the elevator.
    â€œHow was the opening?” he asked.
    Daphna shrugged. “If you like singing dogs, it was great.” In the background Daphna could hear the distinct sound of his three-year-old son wailing. “Is Little Jack okay?”
    â€œOh, he’s fine,” Ron said. “Just had a bad dream.”
    With that, Jack let out a particularly loud shriek. With a quick “Sweet dreams, princess,” Ron disappeared back into his apartment. Daphna pushed open the door to hers. She hung up her coat, then took in the dark room with a sigh. Night was when she missed her mom the most. Daphna longed to tell her about the amazing evening she had just had: the Broadway opening, Harkin’s wild new car, seeing the mayor. She longed to feel her mother rub her hands through her thick auburn hair. She even longed to hear her mother call her Miss Sadie P. Snodgrass, the silly pet name she had made up when Daphna was born. “Tell me about