Mr. Charles Gibson waited for us in a windowless conference room. He sat at the head of a long table, tapping away at his laptop. When we entered, he smiled pleasantly. I wasn’t sure how much to distrust his smile and tried to withhold judgment.
“Good afternoon, Jordan, Ethan,” Mr. Gibson said. “How are you two doing?”
Ugh. Did we have to do polite small talk? But I guessed this wasn’t a denouncement in a movie; no chance for me to point my finger and cry “J’accuse!” (Besides, as Dad had labored to instill, pointing was rude.) “Good, thank you,” I said instead. “How are you?”
“Have a seat.” He gestured at the chairs; Ethan and I took the first two to his left. “Are you two excited to head to college? It’s your freshman year, is that right, Jordan?”
I nodded.
“And what will you be studying?”
“If you don’t mind,” I said, “can we talk about Andrea Darrel?”
He stilled, then smiled again. “Of course. It’s an interesting story you’ve sent me.”
It’s not a story, I wanted to burst out. Instead, I remindedmyself what Dad had said, about how I needed to bring Mr. Gibson along on a journey, make him feel like we were in this together. I had to make him feel like the easiest thing to do would be to acknowledge Andrea Darrel, as opposed to feeling like I was an enemy combatant. “It is,” I said, my voice so calm it pained me. “I was surprised by a lot of stuff I found out.”
He nodded. “And you talked to Andrea Darrel’s descendants. Interesting they’ve never said anything before.”
“I think they felt like they didn’t have a case. But with the statements from Andrea’s diaries, and the date when Gibson claimed the discovery, and Gibson’s letter to his brother, the story seems pretty clear.”
“Hm,” Mr. Gibson said. “All right.”
All…right?
I blinked. I looked at Ethan.Heblinked. We both turned back to Mr. Gibson.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Um—all right, what?”
“I’ve read the deck you put together. You’ve convinced me.”
“We’ve—what?”
“I believe you. Andrea Darrel discovered the comet.”
“Oh,” I said faintly. Heagreed?
“So. That’s that, then,” Mr. Gibson said.
“We’re glad. Thanks,” Ethan said quickly, when Mr. Gibson seemed ready to send us on our way. Which was good, since I was so shocked I might have walked straight out. “Just to make sure—are you going to say something about it? I’m sure you get how important it is everyone know the truth, especially with all the attention on the comet in the next couple of weeks.”
“Yes, of course.” Mr. Gibson paused, but it felt more like a performance than a moment of thought. “I’ll have the foundation put out a statement. Why don’t you send along the contact info for Ms. Darrel’s descendants, so we can get in touch with them, too.”
“Uh, yeah.” Ethan glanced at me, where I still sat, stunned. “We’ll check with them.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not an apology, but anexcuse me, wait just one moment. True, Mr. Gibson had had a chance to sit and think on our deck before we arrived, and maybe Dad was right—maybe that was all he needed. Maybe powerful people were content as long as they believed they were the ones deciding the spin. And yet…“I didn’t expect you to be convincedquiteso easily.” Dr. and Mr. Trowbridge’s faces flashed through my head, their amusement, their lack of surprise. “Did you—know?”
Mr. Gibson stared at me.
I stared at Mr. Gibson.
“No,” he said firmly. “Certainly not.” He closed his laptop and slid it into his bag. “Very nice to see the two of you again, and thank you for bringing this to my attention. Good luck at school—and please give my regards to your families.”
And he walked out the door and vanished down the hall.
I slowly pivoted to look at Ethan, who stared back at me, my own feelings reflected on his face. “Fuck,” Ethan said. “Heknew.”
“He did, didn’t he?” I couldn’t close my mouth. It hung open by the gravitational law of astonishment. And something surfaced from the confrontation we’d had, which I’d replayed a hundred times in my mind. “He—had said Frederick Gibson didn’t marryan astronomer. But I never mentioned Andrea was an astronomer to him.”
