Mine (14 page)

“That’s what you’re basing your accusations on?” Leah’s dad stood up. “Come on, honey. I’m sure you have a class you should be in.”

“No one’s accusing her, Mr. Bautista,” the principal said. “But we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t investigate, that’s all.”

“It sounds like an accusation to me! Leah, let’s go.”

Leah remained where she was and said matter-of-factly, “I didn’t cheat.”

“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart. Now come on.”

“No. I didn’t cheat, Dad. Let them ask whatever they want.”

Her father hesitated a moment before sitting back down. “All right. But if I think their minds are already made up, I’m shutting this down.”

“No one has their mind made up,” Principal Munson said.

From the smile on Vice Principal Iger’s face, Leah knew that wasn’t true. She was also pretty sure he was the one behind this.

“Perhaps you can tell us why you did so well,” Iger said.

Leah locked eyes with him. “I read the questions and put down the correct answer.”

“We all understand. Getting into a good school is not easy, and you want to do everything you can to get yourself noticed. So it’s understandable that you might try…unconventional methods to pass.”

Leah’s father leaned forward. “That’s totally out of—”

“The only thing I did, Mr. Iger, is study,” Leah said. “I’m pretty sure that’s not unconventional.”

“So you took one of those cram courses, then?”

“No. I studied like I always do. At home. Alone. There was nothing on the test I didn’t already know.”

“Hold on,” Iger said. He glanced through his file and then looked at Harvey. “Where’s her class history?”

Harvey went through his papers and handed a couple of sheets to the vice principal.

Iger studied them and said, “I happen to know there were math questions on the test that your class will only start covering this term.”

“My
class
will only start covering them,” Leah said. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t study them already.”

“Are you saying you taught yourself?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He leaned back. “Leah, it’s important we be truthful here. So I’m going to give you another chance. How did you—”

“That’s enough!” Leah’s dad said, standing again. “Honey, we are leaving
now
.” He looked at the others. “I’m officially excusing my daughter from school today. She and I are going to stop in and have a talk with my lawyer and then pay a visit to the district office.”

Leah, still seated, stared at Vice Principal Iger. “I can prove it.”

Iger furrowed his brow. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Leah!” her dad said.

“Simple. Give me a test. Any test you want. I don’t even care what subject. If I get even one answer wrong, you can tell the SAT people that I admitted to cheating and they can throw out my score.”

“Oh, no,” her dad said. “That is
not
going to happen. You earned that score and you’re going to keep it.”

Eyes still on Iger, Leah said, “You’re right, Dad. I am going to keep it.”

She could feel him looking at her. After a moment, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Sweetheart, you don’t have to prove anything to these people.”

“I know,” she said. “Just trust me, okay?”

He remained standing for a few seconds longer before he retook his seat. “Well?” he said. “Are you going to give her a test or what?”

There was some disagreement at first among the administrators about whether or not they should do it. Harvey and especially Iger were against it, both saying they should take more time to look into the matter.

It was Principal Munson who had the final say. “If she wants to take a test, then give her a test.”

Leah ended up taking not one test, but two. The first was a practice SAT that hadn’t been in use for a few years. When she aced it in record time, Iger argued she must have used a copy of it when she’d been preparing. And while her father pointed out there was nothing wrong with that, Leah came up with another solution by suggesting they give her an AP Calculus test. Since she was only about to start Pre-Calculus that term, the subject should be beyond her scope of knowledge. Her father was even more against this, but she was adamant.

Iger himself retrieved the test from the math department and dropped it on the desk in front of her. “It’s the end-of-the-year test, and don’t forget, in the free response section you need to show your work.”

Leah shrugged, picked up a pencil, and began.

AP Calculus finals were allotted just over three hours, and even then few students ever finished the entire test. Leah completed it after one hour and thirty-four minutes. She handed the test to Mr. Harvey, who was acting proctor. The head counselor called the others back in.

Iger flipped through the pages and then looked at her. “We’ll get this graded and get back to you.”

“No,” Leah’s dad said. “You’ll grade it now, in front of us.”

“It’s not my subject.”

“Then get someone whose subject it is. We’ll wait.”

Iger looked like he was going to say something again, but Principal Munson stopped him. “It seems only fair. I believe Mrs. Jans is free this period.”

Looking less than pleased, Iger headed for the door, test in hand.

“No,” Leah’s dad said. “Leave that here.”

Principal Munson stifled an amused smile as Iger tossed the test down on the table.

He returned five minutes later with Mrs. Jans, one of the math teachers. She went over the test question by question. When she was done, there wasn’t a red mark anywhere.

“Perfect,” she said, then looked at Leah. “Well done. I’m very impressed.”

“Thanks,” Leah said.

“Are you sure?” Iger asked. “Did you check her work?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve ever graded a test. It’s perfect.” Mrs. Jans handed the test to Iger. “If you don’t mind, I need to finish prepping for my class now.”

With that, she left.

“It’s obvious this meeting was completely unnecessary,” Principal Munson said. “Ms. Bautista, Mr. Bautista, you have my sincerest apologies. If you wish to file a formal complaint, I will completely understand.”

“Damn right, we do,” Leah’s dad said.

“No,” Leah said, “we don’t.”

She stared at her dad until his anger ebbed.

“Fine,” he said. “But if there are any future problems because of this…”

“There won’t be,” Munson told him. “Will there, Mr. Iger?”

Though Iger mumbled, “No,” Leah was sure he still thought she had conned them.

“Leah,” the principal said, “I think it might be a good idea for you to get together with Ms. Mead when you have a few moments, and see if we can get you into some more appropriate classes.”

In the back of her mind, Leah could hear her old above-average-but-not-too-above-average self say, “No, thank you. I’d like to stay in the classes I have.” But that persona no longer held sway.

She smiled. “I have time right now.”

T
HIRTY-FOUR

O
NE OF THE
predictable results of Leah upping her academic game was what she had always feared.

One by one her friends began distancing themselves from her. They’d been okay with her gradually increasing intelligence, and had even accepted the little quirky things she could do faster than anyone else. But when she made the leap from acceptable smart to unexpected genius, they didn’t know how to handle it. Maybe if she had only switched to a few harder classes, they could have made the adjustment. Or if her perfect SAT score had been the only issue—a fluke, Leah could have called it. But together the changes made even the smartest kids in school look at her as if she weren’t entirely human.

It was for the best, however. She could still handle her new classes with ease, but they did require additional time. And then there were the dreams that seemed to be coming more often.

Soon the time to apply for college arrived. At the top of her list was, of course, Stanford. To hedge her bets, she also applied to Berkeley, San Jose State, and San Francisco State. After thinking about it, she included a fifth school, UC Santa Cruz. This last was a bit farther away from Stanford than she would have liked, but it would still put her in the general area.

Her parents were less than enthusiastic about her desire to go to school in California. There was the expense, they argued, and the distance from home. They insisted she apply to some closer universities. Dutifully, she filled out applications for Colorado State and the University of Colorado Boulder, and had her mom and dad sign them, but she never sent them in.

Her first response came right before Christmas break—San Jose State. The school was happy to inform her she had been accepted into the incoming fall class, and told her to look for the financial-aid letter that would arrive within a month. Said letter showed up on January 21, the same day she received responses from UC Santa Cruz and San Francisco State. The San Jose State scholarship money was better than she’d hoped for and severely undercut her parents’ argument regarding the cost. As for the other two colleges, San Francisco State accepted her, while Santa Cruz declined due to her less than stellar grades in her first three years of high school.

One week later, the letter from Berkeley arrived. Since the school was her second choice, she decided not to open the letter until she’d heard from Stanford. On February 7, she came home from school and finally found the letter she’d been waiting for.

For over an hour and a half, she sat on her bed, the envelopes from Stanford and Berkeley side by side in front of her. She kept going back and forth about which she should open first, and finally decided it made more sense to start with Berkeley. But as she reached for it, she changed her mind and snatched up the one from Stanford.

She sliced it open with a pair of scissors and let the contents fall onto the bed. Only a single piece of paper was inside. She told herself the number of pages meant nothing, but from previous experience she knew that wasn’t true.

Within two lines, she knew her plan of going to school with Joel was not going to happen. It felt as if the floor had opened up beneath her, dropping her into a chasm that stretched all the way through the center of the earth and out the other side. For months now, she’d been daydreaming about a future that included walking across campus with Joel as he helped ease her into college life.

She fell onto her side and curled up crying.

As smart as she was, she’d been such an idiot. If she hadn’t played down her intelligence from the beginning, she would have been accepted. She might have even been able to leave high school early like Joel had, and would have already been in California with him for a year or two. She had screwed things up for herself merely to fit in.

At least two Bay Area universities still wanted her.

She blinked and sat up.

In her disappointment, she’d forgotten about the Berkeley letter. She snatched it up and opened it.

Dear Miss Bautista,

It is my pleasure to offer you admission to the University of California, Berkeley, for the fall semester.

Leah had to read the letter four times before she believed it. It wasn’t Stanford, but it was a great alternative. Most of the rest of the letter was the same kind of general information that had been in her other two yes responses. The exception was the paragraph near the end.

You should know that one of the determining factors in our decision was the recommendation of Berkeley alumni Kari Munson. She made it very clear that your grades prior to your senior year didn’t reflect your true story, and that you are potentially the smartest student to have ever passed through her school. We look forward to you being one of the smartest we’ve had here, too.

Principal Munson? But Leah never asked her for a recommendation. She didn’t even know the principal was a Berkeley alum. It must have been Ms. Mead who told her Leah was applying there. Leah’s counselor was the only one in administration who knew. Whatever the case, a huge thank you was in order.

As excited as she was, she decided it was best to wait until she heard about financial aid before letting her parents know.

In bed that night, she reread the Berkeley letter over and over. It was her ticket to finding Joel and her future, two things she was beginning to think might actually be the same.

As her eyes finally grew heavy, she felt a tingling across her back.

Dream night
.
Why didn’t I feel it earlier?

Or did she?

She’d been on such an emotional roller coaster since coming home, maybe she’d blocked it out. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. To visit Joel in her dreams on the very day she’d learned their physical separation wouldn’t last much longer seemed perfect.

Too bad she was wrong.

T
HIRTY-FIVE

Joel

T
WO QUESTIONS DOGGED
Joel during his last year of undergraduate study: which graduate school was he hoping to attend? What subject would be his focus?

His mother wanted him to go to medical school and become a doctor. His professors were split into several camps, including theoretical physics, particle physics, astrophysics, and chemistry. One suggested he consider architecture, while another was sure he’d be a natural at economics.

The truth was, he’d already studied most of those subjects enough that if he composed a dissertation for each right then, they would all pass critical review.

But there were expectations to fulfill and paths to follow, even for prodigies. So he applied to all the right schools and decided he’d make his decision once he knew who wanted him.

He received his first response on a Tuesday only three and a half weeks after he sent in his applications. Two more came the following day, and the fourth the day after that.