Chip blinked at me.
I looked down at my hands again. My cuticles were looking rough, probably because I’d taken to chewing them every time I thought about the square root of negative one.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Chip said. His voice was quiet and small. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“Thanks.”
“I did hurt you, didn’t I?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Chip let out a slow breath.
“Well.”
“Yeah.”
We sat like that, in a Level Twelve Painful Silence.
I’d made it weird between us.
But then Evie ran back into the room with a pair of safety scissors she’d found somewhere.
Chip sprang out of his seat. “Evie! That’s not a toy.” He chased after her.
And the moment had passed.
VERTICALLY GIFTED PEOPLE
Wednesday morning I popped a pair of cherry Toaster Strudels into the toaster oven to surprise Laleh for her first day at the district’s Innovation Center.
(We didn’t have a regular toaster at home, just the toaster oven. Persians tend to toast big pieces of flatbread, so regular toasters are insufficient.)
Grandma was at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and doing her latest sudoku.
“That’s what you’re having for breakfast?”
“It’s for Laleh,” I said. “For her first day.”
Grandma chuckled. “That’s hardly a treat. Here.”
Before I knew what was happening, Grandma had grabbed the flour out of the pantry, a bowl from beneath the counter, and a couple eggs.
“Pancakes are a real treat,” she said.
The toaster oven dinged.
I would have left the strudels in there—the sight of Melanie Kellner making pancakes had me transfixed, like a meteor shower—but when I started smelling burned pastry, I had to turn away and get the strudels out.
We heard Laleh stomping down the stairs before she emerged into the kitchen, still in her pajamas.
“Hey, Laleh,” I said.
“Morning,” Grandma said. “There’s pancakes.”
Laleh perked up at that. Grandma set her plate on the table, along with a bottle of maple syrup.
I watched Laleh eat her pancakes, and Grandma work on her sudoku with a little smile on her face.
