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“I didn’t want to leave Declan.” Even before his heart attack earlier this year, I was protective of him. He isn’t just my grandpa, he’s one of my best friends.
“Yeah, I get that. Declan is the best,” she says warmly.
I think part of what irritated me about Ana when we first met—other than her ability to make our ordinary lives so obviously lame—is that Grandpa and she were thick as thieves within minutes.
I was jealous. Of whom, exactly, wasn’t clear.
Still isn’t clear, to be honest, though I’m over it.
Sergei and Anastasia Petrov are here to stay and, as far as everyone is concerned, merged with the MacElroy clan. The good news is that we’ll always have their backs. The bad news is that everyone’s nose is in everyone else’s business.
“You don’t need my help, but think of the big picture. If you want to be in a robotics team in college, you should have a letter from someone who supervised your senior year. No way around it.”
“Who says I need to be in a robotics team in college?”
I chuckle. “Seriously? You’re majoring in renaissance drama all of a sudden? C’mon, Ana.”
She plops on the edge of the bed and leans back on her arms. The position lifts her shirt slightly, exposing a sliver of skin above her running shorts. I walk to the window to look outside, because being aware of her bare legs is not conducive to keeping my train of thought.
“What was your question?” she asks. “I let you in because you had a question about the group you’re advising.”
I go along with her deliberate change of subject and pull out my phone to show her pictures of a robot arm. She jumps off the bed to stand beside me. With my visual aid, I explain the nuances of control slippage and grasp stabilization. Within thirty seconds, Ana is transformed from a petulant teenager to a riveted scholar.
“So, the goal is the autonomous grasping of unknown objects?”
Awe at how smart she is whacks me in the chest. “That’s right. The competition is about sensory cues, dexterity, and manipulation. It’s fine if we’re working with the usual balls or pre-mapped objects. However, with only one camera as a visual aid—”
“Reflective objects don’t show well in 2D,” she interjects.
“Exactly. Reflective or translucent objects are a problem.”
“Like a glass of water.”
“You got it,” I say admiringly.
Her eyes are bright with interest, but there’s confusion too. Biting her lower lip for a moment, she speaks tentatively.
“It seems nuts to expect a college team to solve something that industry think tanks are still figuring out.”
“Actually, that part isn’t in the robotics competition. The team just needs to practice on books and screwdrivers.”
“Then why are you asking me about this?”
“It’s what I’m doing for my project. How to integrate sensory imaging with AI cameras to recalibrate varied grasping points of translucent objects.”
She smiles, dimples framing her full pink lips. “That’s the security state secret you wouldn’t tell Maeve?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because this is the kind of thing you’re going to solve in the real world, Ana. Giving up because a bunch of brats are intimidated by you is not an option.”
Thick lashes fall over reddened cheeks when she takes a deep breath. When her eyes re-open, it’s like looking into a galaxy of swirling browns with a black sun in the middle.
“They aren’t intimidated by me. They think I’m useless.”
She walks away and flicks her hair back. As I’ve now come to expect, my fingers tingle with the impulse to grasp those smooth strands.
