Part 5 (1/2)

He reshuffled the papers together into one pile. How to begin logically? Of course. He began to sift through the papers, setting aside any obviously male names. That should narrow the pile down by half or so. More, even. The math department always slanted heavily male.

Minutes pa.s.sed quickly as he went though the papers, the wind whistling outside of the window. It seemed that ambiguous names had come back into fas.h.i.+on, to his utmost irritation. Cayden, Laurie, Jax. He caught himself putting a Sam into the male pile and then reconsidered-what if it were a nickname? Slowly, carefully, he winnowed down the papers and was about to start in on selecting by handwriting type.

The lights went out. Instantly the emergency lighting system turned on, the red glow of the exit lights pointing a way toward the stairs of the library. Eliot tensed, clutching a pile of papers in one hand. He didn't have time for this distraction.

Electric candles flickered over the tabletops of the library, and Eliot gathered a few of them to put in a circle around his papers. It would have to do. Sitting back down to his work, he began to sort through the pile again, this time separating by handwriting that slanted to the left and handwriting that slanted to the right. His eyes blurred from lack of sleep and the poor lighting, but his mind was sharply focused on the task at hand.

The pile in front of him grew smaller and smaller as he worked, and finally only one paper remained. Eliot checked and rechecked it twice, but it had to be this student. The slanting letters, the wide curves of the vowels, the slight flourishes, and the numbering he recognized from her work on the screen that morning. There was even a small circle over the i in her name. He held it up in front of him, the candles flickering light onto the pages.

Brynn Tomlin.

Eliot gathered the papers up quickly and raced down the steps of the library, almost tripping on the carpet in the darkness. He ran across the lawn and pulled open the door of the math department. The hallways here, too, glowed eerily with the emergency lighting system. Breathing heavily, he got to Patterson's door and tried the handle before he saw the note taped to the department chair's placard.

”Eliot,” the note read, ”Electricity went off. Going home, will notify the Joseph boy about the Prize.”

Eliot slammed his hand against the door, the homework papers falling out of his grip and tumbling to the floor. Anger poured through him, a blind frustration that all of his efforts had been in vain. Shocked at the intensity of his emotion, he leaned his head against the door and willed himself to breathe slowly until the ferocity pumping through his blood ebbed.

Peace, Eliot. He folded Brynn's paper and tucked it into his pocket along with her note. He needed sleep. The best solutions always came to him after a night of rest. This would be no exception. He knew there was a solution. He simply had to find it.

I ran all the way home and slammed the apartment door behind me, breathing hard. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve anything. I was a liar, nothing more.

”Brynn? You okay?”

Shannon peeked her head around the hallway from the couch where she had sprawled out. Tendrils of her red hair curled limply down her neck, escaping from the pins that tried valiantly to hold the ma.s.s of hair up. She had two more pins between her lips, and she took them out to speak more clearly.

”Hon, you look like you just saw a ghost! What's wrong?”

I burst into tears, and Shannon immediately got up from the couch and came down the hall to put her arms around me.

”Brynn, hon, oh honey. What is it?” She led me to the couch where I collapsed, my head in my hands. ”Was it that test?”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

”It must be bad,” she said, her warm hand rubbing my back as tears ran down my cheeks. ”You never cry. Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay.”

After going through almost an entire box of tissues I managed to tell her the story in between sobs.

”Oh, Brynn.” Shannon sighed. ”You're sure he helped you out on the test?”

”I don't know what else it could have been,” I said, sniffling behind the tissue. ”I didn't know like half of the problems.”

”Then he's an a.s.shole.”

”Yeah.” I blew my nose and added the tissue to the growing mountain in the waste basket. ”I just didn't think he would do something like that, you know?”

”All guys are a.s.sholes. You remember that guitar player I told you about? Never called.”

”No!” I frowned in sympathy. Shannon had been so excited when she came home from that concert. ”What a jerk!”

”That's what I'm saying. The whole lot of them are just jerks and a.s.sholes. You want to watch a movie and forget about boys for a while?”

”What movie?”

”I don't know, something with John Cusack in it?”

”You're brilliant, Shannon, has anyone ever told you that?”

Shannon beamed at me, and it almost made me feel better. We spent the rest of the night ogling John Cusack's s.e.xy lips and even broke into the ice cream we had been saving for next week's finals, completing the stereotype and loving every minute of indulgence. By the time the credits rolled across the screen the interns.h.i.+p test seemed like a nightmare I could forget. I went to bed and found the small bra.s.s key in my pocket while taking off my jeans. I thought about throwing it in the trash, but put it on the side table instead, the heavy little key clinking on the wood. Maybe I would go back to the midnight piano room later. Much later.

The next morning the sun shone brightly through my window. No more snow. It was back to being California again. I was oddly disappointed.

A loud knocking at the door got me out of bed. It wasn't even eight in the morning yet. Who could it be?

”Brynn? You got that?” Shannon yelled from her room.

”Got it!” I said, wiping the sleep out of my eyes and stumbling down the hall. In my heart, a secret piece of me hoped that I would find Eliot on the other side of the door. I brushed my hair down with my fingers and b.u.t.toned the top of my pajama s.h.i.+rt. If it was him, I didn't want to look indecent. But when I threw open the door, Mark stood on the other side.

”What happened?” he said.

”Good morning to you, too, Mark,” I said. G.o.d, my morning breath was terrible.

”Where were you? Why did you leave before your interview?”

”Hold up,” I said, raising my hands. ”How did you know?”

”The department chair guy, Patterson. He called my dad to tell him I had won the interns.h.i.+p. They asked if I knew the girl who disappeared at the test. I a.s.sume he wasn't talking about Quentin.”

Mark won. He had won. A stab of jealousy thrust itself into me, and at first I couldn't breathe.

”Did... did you tell them?”

”No, I said I wasn't sure,” Mark said. ”I thought maybe you had a reason for leaving. I wanted to talk to you first.”

I sighed.

”Can we talk?” Mark leaned forward in the doorway, a concerned expression on his face. I couldn't tell him no.

”Sure,” I said. ”Give me a minute to get dressed.”

”One minute,” Mark said, stepping back. ”And you're not allowed to disappear.”

”Ha, very funny.”

The snow had disappeared as quickly as it had come, and with the suns.h.i.+ne above us it felt like spring had come back to California. I convinced Mark to go with me to a coffeeshop in the village near the university, where he bought me the biggest latte they had. I wasn't about to chance running into Eliot again at the library cafe.

”So what happened?” he said once we had sat down with our coffee. ”You always said you wanted to go to Hungary. This was your thing.”