Evil Genius

Evil Genius by Catherine Jinks Read Free Book Online

Book: Evil Genius by Catherine Jinks Read Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Jinks
Tags: Ages 12 & Up
understand that it was an
accident.
" The psychologist's tone was sarcastic. "But really, Cadel—bombs again? What have I told you about bombs?"
    From the transmitter screen, Dr. Darkkon added, "And as for that Jarrod character, what are you doing, putting your faith in some sixth-grade thug? Cadel, you can't trust people like that." By this time Dr. Darkkon's arthritis-bangle transmitter had been confiscated and he was using a pair of spectacles instead. Cadel's image was projected onto the lenses of these spectacles, and a transmitter embedded in their metal frame captured Dr. Darkkon's image for Cadel. Usually, Dr. Darkkon was able to remove his eyewear entirely and place it on a surface some distance away so that Cadel could have a better view of his father's face. When he was being closely monitored, however, Dr. Darkkon was forced to leave the glasses on, and Cadel caught a glimpse only of his father's right eye, greatly enlarged. "How could you have been so careless, Cadel?" Dr. Darkkon continued. "People of that sort can't be entrusted with
anything.
They're
hound
to screw up."
    "You were right not to plant the device yourself," Thaddeus remarked from his crimson couch. "There's no need, when you can always delegate. The skill lies in choosing the correct tool."
    "But I didn't choose anyone!" Cadel protested. "I didn't
ask
that boy to plant a bomb; he did it himself!"
    "Naturally, we wouldn't expect you to admit it—," Dr. Darkkon began.
    "But I
didn't! Honestly!
" Cadel was quite upset. "I'm telling the truth!"
    There was a short silence. Then Thaddeus said, in his silkiest tones, "You'd like us to believe that you really did blurt out all your hard-won information about pipe bombs just to impress a few blockheads in sixth grade?"
    Cadel flushed. He didn't know how to respond. Should he admit that he had enjoyed basking in the awestruck attention of Jamboree's toughest kids? It would make him look almost simpleminded—on the same level as stupid Jar rod and his dumb friends. At the same time, Cadel was alarmed that neither Thaddeus nor his father had believed him. And he was very confused. Should he have
known
that Jarrod would go off and make his own bomb? Was there something about Jarrod that should have warned him?
    He was disappointed in himself for failing to anticipate the possibility. He felt that he had let his father down—his father
and
Thaddeus.
    "Cadel," said Thaddeus, leaning forward and fixing him with an intent look, "if this whole episode was unplanned, as you say, then you have a lot to learn. Your father has told you, again and again, to
keep a low profile.
You won't do that by trying to impress people. You'll find it all too easy to impress most people, and then where will you be? Constantly watched. Admired. Pursued."
    "It's bad enough that you're skipping years," Dr. Darkkon added. "I'd be happier if you were following a more normal educational pattern. You've already been identified as highly gifted. Now you'll be the subject of constant scrutiny."
    "You have one advantage," Thaddeus went on, "and that's your face. People with pretty faces aren't expected to have brains."
    "They stand out, though," Dr. Darkkon said gloomily. "They're noticed. They're watched."
    "Perhaps," Thaddeus conceded. "So Cadel will have to learn to fade into the background. It really isn't hard. The right clothes, the right stance, the right attitude—"
    "Like not boasting to morons," Dr. Darkkon interrupted.
    "Like that, yes.
We
admire you, Cadel. You don't need the admiration of idiots like Jarrod."
    Cadel stared at his lap, legs swinging. Occasionally—very occasionally—he still felt like a freak. It happened sometimes when he made a remark and a teacher stared at him as if he'd just sprouted another arm. Or when the other kids started giggling behind his back because he'd been staring at a handball game for fifteen minutes, trying to calculate velocities and outcomes. Or when Mrs. Piggott came home in a bad

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