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As I turned, my eyes lingered on his walls. They were lined floor to ceiling with books. The room smelled of leather and paper and dust. I had always been jealous of Victor for leaving. Now I knew to be jealous of what he had left for.

What I would give for the freedom to declare myself a student, to spend years in dusty rooms, in dusty tomes, learning and puzzling and asking questions of the brightest minds to be found! And to study what I chose, when I chose, with whom I chose. To think that all those years ago, I had been forced to trick Victor into doing what I would have given anything to do.

* * *

—

When Madame Frankenstein had Ernest, it did not bring about the change I expected or feared. I worried she would no longer care to have me around. But the baby was another boy—her third, though the second died in infancy—and she seemed more desperate than ever that I be with Victor at all times.

We spent the next two years throwing ourselves into whatever Victor decided we should study. I learned poems to perform for his parents, and helped care for the baby some. But, to my relief, my main responsibility remained Victor. Better to be lying on a bed of moss being a corpse for examination than bouncing a drooling toddler on my hip!

I did too good a job of socializing Victor, though. He had taught me to read and write and learn, possessively proud of my sharp mind and keen memory. I taught him to react calmly, to smile in a believable way, to talk to others as a peer instead of an aloof critic. With me at his side, his sharp, cold edges blurred to acceptable degrees.

The changes in him did not go unnoticed. One morning when we tumbled into the breakfast room to eat before running outside, Judge Frankenstein stopped us.

“We are having guests today.” He said it as though handing down a guilty verdict, and watched us closely for our reactions.

Madame Frankenstein’s hands fluttered in front of her face as she searched for an appropriate facial expression. She finally settled on excitement, though her eyes were too bright and her mouth too tight across her white teeth. “A new family,” she said. “One that does not know us from— One that does not know us.”

Victor and I exchanged a look. I still had not asked what had happened to the other Frankenstein baby, the one who came after Victor and before Ernest. Whatever had transpired, it was awful enough that the Frankensteins had left Geneva and traveled—and therefore found me. So I did not care about that lost baby except as far as its role in my salvation.

But it was obvious in Madame Frankenstein’s nerves that these guests had been chosen precisely because they had arrived in Geneva after the events that had driven the Frankensteins abroad. Victor’s eyebrows had already begun drawing together, but there was something wild about his stillness that warned me this would not end well.

I grabbed his hand beneath the table, beaming at him. “Victor and I will perform a poem.”

Whatever feral inst

inct had been surfacing in Victor’s demeanor, it was settled by the ridiculousness of my offer. “You know I do not recite poetry,” he said, shaking his head. “That is your job.”

“Well, I will perform a poem and you can take all the credit, since I only know how to read and appreciate poetry because of your tutoring!”

This made him laugh, but I could tell by the flush of his cheeks that he was pleased. Interacting with new people would be easier for him if he could use me as a shield. I let him do that.

I would do anything for him.

“It is settled, then,” Judge Frankenstein said. “Monsieur Clerval is a merchant. From common stock, but he has done uncommonly well and quickly climbed the ranks of society. He is quite wealthy now. And he has a son, Henry, who is your age.”

I did not question that Judge Frankenstein was talking about Victor’s age. He rarely addressed me directly. He rarely even looked at me.

Victor tensed. Unheeding, his father continued. “I have heard good reports of the new schoolmaster in town. If you can get along with Henry, perhaps you can join the school.”

I squeezed Victor’s hand urgently. I could see him panicking again, every line in his body taut. “May we be excused? We have a lot to prepare!” I stood before waiting for permission to leave, curtseyed to make up for it, then dragged Victor from the room.

“What are they thinking?” he shouted, pacing the length of the playroom we had yet to cede to the baby. “Inviting strangers here. As though I need them to find a friend for me. As though I care.”

“Victor,” I said. “Think of everything you could learn at a school! We can only learn so much here on our own. We are already running out of books to study. But if you have access to more, a good teacher…” I gestured expansively. “We could get further in a month than we can in a year on our own.”

He lowered my hands back to my sides, pushing them down from where they had encompassed a broad and open imaginary future. “You know you cannot go to school.”

“Of course I know that, silly.” I tried to keep the sting of his words from showing. I had not actually thought of it. I was always with Victor. I had pictured us going to school together. The realization that I would not—could not—go with him rushed over my head like the lake waters closing around me. I struggled to get to the surface so I could take a breath and control how I was feeling.

“So you want to be separated from me?” His dark eyes flashed like lightning, and I knew a tremendous thunder would follow.

We had been inseparable for years, such that I did not know where he ended and I began. “No! Never. But I cannot go to school, which means you will have to learn enough for both of us and bring your knowledge back to me here. You will be like my own explorer, going off into the wilds to discover treasures for me. Please, Victor.” I was only eleven, but I wanted more. I had never thought of it before now, but the idea of having the freedom of a few hours each day had already sunk in deep, pulling at my lungs so I realized how suffocating my life had been.

I wanted to go with Victor. I could not. But if Victor left, no one would need me. At least for those few precious hours. And then he would return, and bring back more things I could learn.

All I had to do was make sure Henry and Victor got along. I beamed at Victor, already certain of my triumph.