The Year of the Gadfly by Jennifer Miller

book. “I have to get going.” He put
Marvelous Species
on the table. “Can we finish our discussion later?”
    I nodded, but he was already hurrying away, sucking on his thumb. I lifted the book cover and turned to the title page.
    To Lily, marvel of my life. Justin.
    An angry smear of blood ran across these words now, the stain already turning brown.
    Â 
    That night I was sitting on my bed with
Marvelous Species
when my mother came in. She’d been on the phone all afternoon with members of her many charities, and she was dressed in black heels and pearls, as if she’d actually been out visiting boardrooms and foundations. Given that she’d been conducting this business from the dining room table, she was wearing way too much perfume.
    â€œSo.” My mother folded her hands in her lap. “What are your plans for Friday?” I held up the book. “Oh, come on.” She faked a smile. “There must be something more fun than that. Why don’t you call a girlfriend and go for coffee in town. I’ll drive you.”
    â€œThanks for the offer,” I said, “but I’m really okay.”
    â€œIris?”
    I looked up. Now my mother looked different. Her face was set—determined—and her lips were drawn tightly together.
    â€œI know it’s hard being the new kid, but you’re not even trying to make friends.”
    â€œI went to the ice cream social.”
    â€œIris, you should go out.”
    â€œOkay.” I looked back at
Marvelous Species.
    My mother glanced at the chapter I was reading. “What in God’s name are extremophiles? Don’t tell me you’ve become a fan of science fiction.”
    â€œIt’s for Mr. Kaplan’s class.” This wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough.
    My mother shook her head. “Why are so you interested in science all of a sudden?”
    â€œUnlike some people”—I glanced up—“Mr. Kaplan takes me seriously.”
    â€œGarrison Pasternak says Jonah Kaplan was nearly kicked out of school when he was a student. Did you know that?”
    â€œMr. Kaplan went to Mariana?”
    â€œAnd now he’s brainwashing my daughter.” My mother picked my phone up from the bed. “Call a friend.”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œTake the phone.”
    I didn’t move. I was thinking about Mr. Kaplan’s omission and how it felt more like a lie. I asked him where he was from, so why didn’t he acknowledge growing up here?
    â€œTake the phone, Iris.”
    I took it. My mother smiled, but it was the expression of a 1950s housewife on the verge of a homicidal rampage.
    â€œNow then, who are you going to call?”
    â€œNobody.” Was I overreacting about Mr. Kaplan? But why had he handled Lily’s book like a hunk of enriched uranium? I needed to think his reaction through. I needed my mother gone.
    â€œThis is not up for discussion,” she continued. “You are not going to sit around and read about extremo-whatevers all weekend. Now pick somebody and call her.”
    â€œWho, Mom? Who do you suggest?”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Iris. Out of the hundred people in your class, there must be at least one girl you’re friendly enough with to invite to the movies.” She started rattling off people whose parents she knew from the school board. Then she grabbed the phone from me and started searching through my address book. She was getting more agitated by the second. I asked for the phone back, but she ignored me. She suggested Lauren Nevins, who was my lab partner, and Amanda Petroff from my literature study group. I was starting to panic.
    â€œKatie Milford?” my mom said. “You’ve mentioned Katie lots of times.”
    â€œMom, please,” I whimpered. “Please don’t. She’s editor of the—”
    â€œAll right, all right.” But she held the phone out of my reach as she