Revolution - Jennifer Donnelly [108]
My phone goes off. Hooray. Saved by the ring tone. “Excuse me, Dad,” I say, heading into the kitchen to answer it.
“Hey,” a voice on the other end says. It’s Vijay.
“Oh, hey,” I say. I’d thought—well, desperately hoped—it might be Virgil.
“Wow. Glad to hear your voice, too.”
“Sorry, V. I’m a little out of it. Thought you were somebody else.”
“Um … remind me again why I’m your friend?”
“I’m thinking … still thinking … sorry. Can’t come up with anything.”
“Ha.”
“What are you doing up so early? It’s noon here, so it’s got to be, like, six a.m. in Brooklyn.”
“Just got off the phone with King Abdullah’s press office. For, like, the tenth time. They finally said to send my paper and they’ll try to get him to comment.”
“That’s so great.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m really stoked. I’m going to try Tajikistan next. How’s your outline going?”
I tell him about all the work I’ve done, that Dad’s given it the thumbs-up, and that I’ll be home tomorrow. He’s surprised. And happy. And immediately tells me to finish it and not screw it up.
“I’m touched by your faith in me,” I say.
“Look, the reason I called is to let you know that Mission Van Gogh is accomplished,” he says. “I smuggled everything in to your mom yesterday afternoon. I got Kavita to help me. She wore a kurta and baggy pants. We taped the tubes of paints and the brushes to her legs. Put the flea-market stuff in a backpack and taped it to her front. Pretended she was pregnant. The security guard didn’t search her.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like Vijay. But whatever it was, I must’ve done it in another life, not this one.
“Wow, V, thank you,” I say. “Thank you so much. Did she like it?”
“She was a little out of it at first. Kind of a Stepford wife. But when we showed her what we’d brought, and told her you sent it, she sparked up. Started painting right away. On the wall of her room.”
“That’s so great. Was her doctor around? Dorky guy in a white coat? Did he try to put a stop to it?”
“There were lots of dorky guys in white coats around. It’s a hospital. But no one came in while we were there. It was right at the end of visiting hours. On a Saturday. He was probably home.”
“Cool. I so owe you, Vijay.”
“It’s nothing. Oh, and thanks for the bobbleheads. So cool. Medvedev and Talabani are totally hard to find.”
I laugh. Only Vijay Gupta could think politician bobbleheads are cool. I found some the day I was hunting for things for my mother and put them in the FedEx box for him.
“Oh, and one more thing … I’m supposed to tell you that Nick says hi. He got arrested again.”
“For what?”
“For stabbing a giant blow-up Ronald McDonald on Court Street.”
“No way.”
“Way. The thing was enormous, like ten feet high. A little kid was crying, refusing to walk by it. Her nanny was dragging her in to get a Happy Meal and she kept saying she didn’t want to be happy. Nick felt sorry for her. He pulled out a Swiss army knife and nailed Mickey D. I saw him do it.”
Vijay’s laughing but I’m not. I’m sure Nick was drunk again. Or high. And I know why he was that way, why he is that way, almost all the time now.
“You wouldn’t believe how many people applauded. He was booked but he’s out on bail. Again. He’s going to plead insanity. He says he suffers from a fear of clowns.”
Nick suffers, but it’s got nothing to do with clowns. “Tell him hi, will you? Tell him I’ll call him as soon as I’m home,” I say.
“Arden broke up with him,” Vijay says. “She’s dating Mickey Rourke now. He took her to Bali for the rest of break.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Technically, no. She turned eighteen two weeks ago. Bender got a movie deal. And Simone got into Brown.”
“How about Vijay Gupta?” I say. “Harvard wake up yet?”
“Not yet.”
“They will, V. I know they will. And you should turn them down when they do. Who needs the Jivey Leagues? Fight the power, bruh. Stick it to the man. Go to Bard instead.”
“Wow. Yeah. That’d show them.”
“Vijay! Vijay Gupta!” I hear in the background. “This does not sound like a conversation of substance! It sounds