“Mom!”
“I’m okay.”
Dillon asked, “What does that mean, gifted?”
“When my angel with the fractured halo was four, she was seated inside the grocery trolley, you know what I mean, right?”
“Of course.”
“Mom loves telling this story,” Elena said. “It might almost be true.”
“There she was, watching the clerk ring up my groceries. When the woman was done, this little child sings out the exact amount.Beforethe number appeared on the register.”
“Whoa.”
“Exactly.”
Dillon said, “So you’re a math whiz.”
“I might become one,” Elena replied. “Someday. If I can only work out the Everest of problems that is standing between me and the school . . .Mom.”
“Observe. This is me staying supportive and dry-eyed.”
Elena gave a hugely exasperated sigh. “I have to submit this concept. Something that shows I can think outside the box. It’s not enough that I know numbers. They are looking for . . .”
Dillon offered, “Originality.”
“Of course not.” She offered him the same sort of exasperation she’d shown her mother. “I’mten.”
“They require her to show an ability to think, to reason, to explore,” Bailey said. “Their exact words.”
Dillon gave that the beat it deserved, then said, “I might be able to help with that.”
Elena gave him a very womanly look. Out of the side of her eyes, tight, suspicious, timeless. “Oh really.”
Dillon nodded. “Can I use your laptop?”
