Wonder

before, but he wanted to be sure that Barb and Caitlin were okay, and—

Ah, there was an answer from Hu Guan. He opened it.

Malcolm, so good to hear from you!

I do know the person about whom you ask. Sadly, he is no longer at liberty. It took me a while to locate him. I’d expected him to be in prison, but he’s actually hospitalized; the poor fellow’s back has been broken.

Since the authorities now have him, I suppose there’s no further danger to him in mentioning his real name. It is Wong Wai-Jeng, formerly in technical support at the paleontology museum here in Beijing. It will perhaps be a comfort to him to know that his brave efforts were noticed half a world away.

For a second, Malcolm thought about forwarding the message to Webmind, but there was no need for that. Webmind read his email—he read everybody’s email—and so he already knew what Zhang had said, and presumably whatever he wanted to do with this Sinanthropus fellow was under way.

Amir Hameed was sitting next to Malcolm. He gestured at the stage. “So, what do you think?”

Malcolm put his BlackBerry away. “It’s a whole new world,” he said.

Caitlin’s mom had gone up to her office, leaving Caitlin downstairs, walking around the living room. Just looking at things was fascinating to her, and it seemed every time she examined something she’d seen before, she was able to make out new details: seams where pieces of wood joined on the bookcases; a slight discoloration of the beige wall where the previous owners had hung a painting; a manufacturer’s name embossed but not colored on the television remote. And she was learning what different textures looked like: the leather of the couch; the smooth metal legs of the glass coffee table; the roughness of her father’s sweater, draped over the back of the easy chair.

She walked to the opposite side of the room and looked down the long corridor that led to the washroom, and her father’s den, and the utility room, and the side door of the house. It was a nice straight corridor, with nothing on the floor, and it had a dark brown carpet running its length—the shade was about the same as Caitlin’s hair.

She’d visited other kids’ homes often enough when she was younger, and had frequently heard the same thing: parents telling their children to stop running in the house; her friend Stacy had gotten in trouble for that all the time.

But Caitlin’s parents had never said that to her. Of course not: she had to walk slowly, deliberately; oh, she hadn’t had to use her white cane in the old house back in Austin, or in this house after the first few days, but she certainly couldn’t go running about. Her parents were meticulous about not leaving shoes or other things anywhere Caitlin might trip over them, but Schrodinger—or his predecessor, Mr. Mistoffelees—could have been anywhere, and the last thing Caitlin had wanted to do was injure herself or her cat.

But now she could see! And now that she could see—maybe she could run!

What the heck, she thought. “Webmind?”

Yes? flashed in her vision.

“I’m going to try running down this hallway—so don’t do what you just did. Don’t pop any words into my vision, okay?”

There was no response—which, after a moment, she realized was simply Webmind doing as she’d asked. Suppressing a grin, she locked her gaze on the white door at the end of the corridor, with its square window looking out on the gap between their house and the Hegerats’ next door. And she—

She walked.

Damn it, she knew what running was—when you were running, both feet left the ground. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, even though there were no obstacles, and she was sure Schrodinger was upstairs with her mother. She tried, she really tried, leaning her torso forward, but—

But she just couldn’t. A lifetime of being afraid of tripping and falling had taken its toll. She passed the bathroom walking; she passed her dad’s office, its door open, walking briskly; she passed the utility room, actually striding—but she never ran, and when she reached the side door, she slapped the palm of her hand against the painted wood, and muttered, “Fail.”

Just then, the front doorbell rang—meaning Matt had arrived. She really, really, really wanted to run up the corridor, through the living room, and over to the entryway, but even with that carrot, all she managed was a fast walking.

Still, when she opened the door and saw him smiling, all thoughts that she was made out of fail vanished. She hugged him and gave him a kiss. After saying good-bye to her mom, who came downstairs to see Matt, they headed out into the brisk autumn morning. There’d already been a little snow in Waterloo, but it had all melted. The leaves on the trees were wonderful colors that Caitlin wasn’t sure what to call: she was good now with basic color names but not yet proficient at intermediate shades.

She suddenly realized that she was having a feeling she’d never had before. Without looking back, as she and Matt walked down the street, she was sure her mother was watching them from the open front door, arms probably crossed in front of her chest.

Perhaps Matt had the same sense—or perhaps he’d looked back at some point and confirmed it—but it wasn’t until after they’d turned the corner and were out of sight of the house that he reached over and touched Caitlin’s hand.

Caitlin found herself smiling at the tentativeness of the gesture. Matt was presuming nothing: all the affection down in the basement yesterday entitled him to no privileges today. She squeezed his hand firmly, stopped walking, and kissed him on the lips. When they pulled away, she saw he was smiling. They picked up their pace and hurried toward the donut shop.

As soon as they came in the door, Caitlin was surprised to catch sight of a flash of platinum-blonde hair. It took her a moment to recognize Sunshine Bowen out of context—but here she was, working behind the counter. Another woman was at the cash register; Sunshine was—ah, she was making a sandwich for a customer.

“Hi, Sunshine!” Caitlin called out.

Sunshine looked up, startled, but then she smiled. “Caitlin, hi!”

Matt didn’t say anything, and so Caitlin whispered to him, “Say hi, Matt.”

He looked astonished, and after a second, Caitlin got it. There were a million social rules at any school, and apparently one of the ones she’d been oblivious to was that guys who looked like Matt didn’t speak to girls as beautiful as Sunshine, even if they were in half their classes together.

But Matt certainly didn’t want to ignore Caitlin’s request, so he said a soft “Hi.” Its volume seemed calculated so that Caitlin would hear it but Sunshine, perhaps, would not, letting him satisfy propriety on all fronts.

Caitlin shook her head and moved closer to where Sunshine was standing. “I didn’t know you worked here,” she said.

“Just on weekends,” Sunshine said. She had been the only other American girl in Caitlin’s classes. “I do five hours on Saturday mornings and four on Sundays.”

Sunshine was tall, busty, and had long, dyed hair, although here it was pinned up and mostly constrained by a Tim Hortons cap that matched the brown uniform smock she was wearing.

Matt’s BlackBerry rang; his ringtone was Nickelback’s cover of Neil Young’s “Cinnamon Girl.” He pulled it out, looked at the display, and took the call. The donut shop wasn’t busy, and Caitlin chatted a little more with Sunshine before she became aware of what Matt was saying into his phone: “Oh, no! No, yes, of course… Okay, okay. No, I’ll be waiting outside. Right. Yes, bye.”

He put the BlackBerry back in his pocket. His expression wasn’t quite his deer-caught-in-the-headlights look; it was more… something. “What’s wrong?” Caitlin said.

“My dad just fell down the stairs. It’s nothing serious—just a twisted ankle. Still, my mom’s taking him to the hospital, and she wants me to go with them. She’s going to swing by here and pick me up. Um, I don’t think they’ll want to take the time to drive you home. Could—I’m so sorry, but could you call your mom and have her come get you?”

Her mom would kill Matt, Caitlin knew, if he let her walk home alone; although Caitlin was getting better at seeing, she was still blind in one eye and could easily be snuck up on. “Of course!” Caitlin said. “Don’t worry.”

But Sunshine had been listening in. “I’m off in fifteen minutes, Cait. Stay and have a coffee, and I’ll walk you home.”