“Yes, the great Fola Button will be safe from my chickens,” Evie confirmed with a laugh. “Speaking of Fola… have you seen her tonight?”
“Only glimpses of her. She’s usually busy being headhunted by impressive science people at these events,” he said as he scanned the expanse of the main deck for any sign of his other sister.
Just then, the sound of feedback from a microphone sounded across the yacht, and all eyes turned to a lofty stage that had been assembled at the bow and the ice sculpture of what appeared to be Zeus at the center of it. The crowd fell silent as Mr. Button slowly strode onto the stage, a golden envelope in one hand, a black cane in the other as he moved to stand in front of ice-Zeus.
That’s new, he thought, staring at his father’s cane.
He couldn’t recall his father using one before; yet it was entirely possible that this canewasn’tnew at all. Despite technically living in the same house, Romeo rarely ever saw his father. Mr. Button was always busy dealing with his business affairs, leaving Romeo and Fola to their own lives.
A restlessness surged through the crowd of prodigies and patrons asMr.Button took the microphone. The time had finally arrived: the crowning of Prodigy of the Year.
“Esteemed guests, friends, and colleagues. I am so very pleased to welcome you all to this momentous tenth-annual Button Prodigy Ball.” He paused dramatically for applause, which predictably came in loud waves. “I know you have all been waiting anxiously to hear who this year’s Prodigy of the Year will be. This is an award close to my heart and, I hope, honors the young person who has proven themselves this year to be truly outstanding in their field.” Mr. Button began to slowly tear open the golden envelope, leaning his weight against the cane, then stopped for a beat, looking out to the crowd. “But before I announce the winner, I want to thank you all for being here tonight and honoring my vision for a brighter future for the youth of the world. I know many of you admire my work greatly, and I know many of you have similar aspirations. So, a word of advice from me to you.” Mr. Button looked keenly into the crowd. “Youmustaccept failure.” Romeo’s shoulders tensed. That word,failure. It was the one word that would trigger any of his siblings.
His eyes subconsciously began to scan the deck for his brothers and sisters. He spotted Bilal first, standing solemn-faced to one side, now dressed in a midnight-blue tuxedo. Perdita was off in another corner with that boy, both staring blankly ahead. Romeo couldn’t see Fola from his vantage point, but he did spot Octavius, sporting the most unsettling expression he’d ever seen on his brother’s face. He’d seen him angry, scared, full of joy, humorous, dazed, tired, unimpressed, and more. But he had never seen him look so… resigned.
Just then Fola emerged from the crowd looking very annoyed, holding up a glass of what appeared to be water and forcing Octavius to drink.
“I have failed many times in this line of work,” their father continued. “In fact, my work might, at times, have caused some harm…” His voice seemed wistful, somehow. “But the important thing is that the good outweighs the harm. I never claim to be perfect, nor do I claim my methods to be sucheither, but what I can tell you is my results are the outcome of my persevering. And so, I want to leave you with that message. Persevere through failure, and maybe, just maybe, one day you can be brilliant too.”
More loud applause followed, and Romeo felt himself clapping along without meaning to. But as a ghostly thing, he was used to playacting as if he were one of the living.
“Now… for the main event.” Mr. Button’s voice blared through the speakers and caused a brief earsplitting shriek that made Romeo wince. “I am very pleased to announce that this year’s Prodigy of the Year is…” His father’s long spindly fingers removed the card from the envelope, the microphone picking up on the harsh crinkling of the paper. “Anwar Shah,” his father finally announced. Screams roared from all around the yacht.
Romeo watched as a brown-skinned boy around his age, dressed very handsomely in a forest-green tartan suit and spiked boots, made his way to the stage. People patted him on the back as he wove through the masses of guests, wide congratulatory smiles beaming all around.
Evie seemed to be clapping louder than anyone else in the room, her face bright and full of wonder.
“Is he a friend of yours or something?” Romeo asked.
Evie looked at Romeo as if he had grown a second head. “Me, friends withtheAnwar Shah? No, not at all. In fact, I totally humiliated myself in front of him earlier. I was telling him how much I love him… but I think I ended up just scaring him.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Romeo said, despite not knowing who this guy was at all. He didn’t make it a habit to keep up with the celebrities in the world of teenage geniuses, so he often did not know who these winners were. Clearly this Anwar fellow was a big deal though, because even his father, who hardly ever smiled, was looking upon the boy with a fond expression.
Anwar began his thank-you speech as he held up the Prodigy of the Year trophy—a giant gold button-shaped plaque.
The guy looked kind of familiar though, the more Romeo studied his face. “Who is he, anyway?” he asked Evie.
“One of my favorite writers. His books literally got me through my first lonely year in Italy. And through my grief after losing my brother,” Evie said. “I don’t take this ‘genius’ stuff all that seriously, but I will say, Anwar’s a bona fide literary genius. He’s the youngest person to ever be a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize or to be long-listed for the Booker Prize. He writes stories that could literally make a war criminal weep… Okay, maybe not a war criminal, but some other almost-heartless person. He’s only eighteen but he already has two modern classics under his belt,” she finished breathlessly.
Romeo’s eyebrows shot up. Thatwasimpressive. Though he didn’t think he was familiar with Anwar because of his work. They’d probably crossed paths some other way. His father loved to host important dinners with important people. Maybe Anwar had been a guest once?
“I wonder if I can get him to sign one of his books…” Evie’s voice trailed off as Anwar finished speaking and Mr. Button’s voice boomed once again.
“Congratulations again to our winner, Anwar. Now, before you all go back to your merriments, here’s a reminder that we have atrulyspectacular display planned for later that will be unlike any technology you have ever seen before. But first, I would like to welcome my son Octavius Button to the stage. Octavius will be playing a never-before-performed violin concerto, which was only written last week.”
The audience broke out into reverberant applause as Octavius stumbled onto the stage, nearly crashing into ice-Zeus, who loomed over them all, still very clearly out of his wits. Despite this, Romeo wasn’t worried that Octavius would mess up his performance, and clearly neither was their father, who was watching calmly from the side of the stage. They both knew that Octavius played very well when he was inebriated—which he had been for many of his recent highly regarded performances.
It was obvious to Romeo that Octavius did not want to be there; his brother looked ready to burn the ship down. But he obviously couldn’t, so he tucked his violin under his chin, swaying slowly as he raised his bow. A sorrowful expression painted his face, but it was mixed with something else. Octavius appeared unsettled, as if he were standing there at gunpoint—which he basically was.
Octavius sliced out a devastatingly beautiful melody, and, like everyone else on the yacht, Romeo watched, just as entranced by his brother’s playing.
“Hey, Rome.” Evie’s voice cut through his trance.
He looked at her and immediately noticed a seriousness in her face. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
She quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I just…” She turned to look down at the main deck. “I really need to speak to Mr. Button—I mean, your dad.”
Romeo looked at her, confused. “My dad? Why?”
