Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Like the pretentious man he is, Gabriel sinks back in his chair before making a teepee with his index fingers. “Where to?” He reads Cash’s mother’s sniff in the correct manner, but instead of telling her he won’t drive her to her dealer to waste the money he just gave her, he jerks up his chin. “But we need to discuss new terms on the way there. This isn’t working as hoped.”
It takes the barista calling my name three times before I shift my focus from their brisk exit to him. “You’re good to go.”
“Thanks.”
When I accept the iced chocolate with double whipped cream from his grip, he asks, “Is Einstein your name or are you pre-empting greatness?”
I can’t help my smile when I reply, “It’s a nickname a friend gave me.”
“Cool. I like it.” He farewells me with a smile before preparing the next customer’s order.
After returning his farewell, I head for the exit, my pace slowing when I spot a crumbled-up piece of paper on an empty table. It is the note Cash’s mother tossed at Gabriel.
Too curious for my own good and desperate to rid myself of some confusion, I snatch up the paper and pry it open.
My heart beats at an unusual rhythm when I scan what is written. Like the Reimann Hypothesis, it is another unsolvable puzzle, and once again, it has an error in the presentation of the formula.
I jot down a mental note to order a cell phone before asking the barista if the coffee shop has a landline phone.
He jerks up his chin. “It’s out back.”
With my thirst forgotten, I dump my drink onto the counter, then race in the direction he nudged his head.
Trenton answers a handful of rings later.
Chapter 35
Cash
“The answer is wrong! It’s wrong!”
“Dad…” He trashes the workstation I only put back together last week before rubbing out the formula he’s been working on the past two days and starting again.
He hasn’t eaten, showered, or slept in days, and I’m at a loss on how to help this time around.
I can’t even solve this riddle, and Professor Ren forced me into advanced mathematics with a threat that I’d be benched for the season if she showed them the results of my first test.
“Maybe take a break for a minute. Let your brain rest.”
Keeping his back to me, he replies, “I don’t need rest. I need to solve this puzzle.” I didn’t think it was possible to hate my mother more until he murmurs, “Then she might come back.”
My dad was the good guy, the man who was supposed to win.
But my mother was the villain of his story.
They got together when it was the rage for cheerleaders to date geeks. They knew the jocks’ reign would eventually end not long after graduation, but a man’s brainpower and the wealth associated with it could last for eternity.
She didn’t love him. She loved the thought of him and the lifestyle he could offer her. And she was living that life for the first ten years of mine. We had a house bigger than a castle, maids, and butlers. We even had a driver. Then my mother couldn’t keep her extracurricular activities hidden for a second longer.
She broke my father’s heart, then the doctors who couldn’t understand his wish to win at all costs broke his brain.
At first, he wanted to succeed in a way she’d have no choice but to come back. He strove for greatness, but he set the bar too high.
Every distinction he achieved added another three to his list.
When you are smart, you’re not patted on the back and told, “Well done.” They expect more of you, they expect better, and their wants don’t stop until you have nothing left to give but the mumblings of an insane man.
Jocks’ expectations are nowhere near as high.
Yeah, they’re cheered and revered, but that’s where the expectations end. They’re not expected to cure hunger or find world peace. They play a game, and then they go home before they’re eventually written out of the story for the ‘nice guy.’
It is a sucky role, but when your choices are either float or sink, I will always pick the one that will keep me afloat.
I shift my eyes from the equation my father is jotting down to the stairs when Trenton calls my name. “It’s McKayla. She needs to talk to you.”
Even though it shouldn’t, hope highlights my tone when I shout, “She’s back?”
I climb the stairs two at a time like I didn’t ask a question, my pace slowing when Trenton replies, “No, she’s on the phone.”
I’m not surprised when he passes me our grandparents’ old landline cordless phone. McKayla doesn’t own a cell, and even if she did, she couldn’t reach me with one since I haven’t replaced my phone yet.
McKayla wasn’t the only one taught lessons during our ‘false start.’ I learned a lot about myself as well. Most particularly, how much I’ve missed being me the past eleven years. She was the only one who brought out the true me, and I honestly don’t want anyone else to experience that side of me but her.