Chapter 18

                                    

                                          
FRIDAY, MARCH 29
9 days left

                          
I slide into my seat just as the bell rings and toss my backpack down under my desk. Louis nods at me. He's been doing that recently, like he thinks that ever since we went to the zoo we're close friends or something. I imagine the whispers this will ignite among my classmates.
Mr. Scott has written "Einstein" in sloppy blue letters on the whiteboard. He's tapping the cap of the dry-erase marker against the board, waiting for everyone to quiet down. "Good morning, good morning."
Some people mumble a response back to him. I stay quiet.
"Today, I want to take a break from all the math and equations and take some time to talk about theory. We'll call it a fun Friday." The class groans and Mr. Scott turns to the board and scribbles: "The Special Theory of Relativity."
"Raise your hand if you've heard of this theory before." He taps the board again as some people in the class raise their hands.
I've obviously heard of it before. Everyone knows Einstein. I bet even Rob could pick Einstein out of a lineup. And I'm sort of familiar with the theory, but it's not like I'm going to volunteer; I hate speaking in class.
He points at Melanie . I don't think she even raised her hand. "Want to explain it to everyone?"
Her round cheeks flush pink. "Um, I don't know, like, that much about it." She fiddles with one of the gaudy brass buttons on her cardigan. "But I've heard of Einstein. Hasn't everyone? He's that genius guy with crazy hair."
See? Everyone knows Einstein. Even Melanie does.
"Okay," Mr. Scott says slowly. "Anyone else?" He surveys the room and then points at me. I'm not raising my hand. I don't know what he's trying to pull.
"Taylor," he says. "Do you know anything about the theory?"
I shrug and shake my head. It's a combination of moves that make me vaguely look like I'm doing some kind of dance—the dance of I-don't-know and Please-please-please-don't-force-me-to-answer.
"Come on now. I'm sure you know something. Given your last test score, physics seems to be an area of natural interest for you."
Some people in the class whistle and make stupid howling noises.
I never understand why teachers think shouting out that someone got a good score on a test will help their social standing. Besides, my score on the last test only proves I was able to learn what Mr. Scott taught me, not that I know anything beyond that. "Come on, Taylor," he prompts. "Take a stab at it."
I want to take a stab at you, I think bitterly, and tap my fingers on the top of my desk. It's a good thing I didn't say that aloud. Stacy Jenkins and her posse would have gone nuts. The thought even scares me a bit and I wish I could take it back, erase it.
"Taylor," he urges, and there's a desperation in his voice. I almost feel sorry for Mr. Scott. His life must be pretty terrible if I'm the student he's depending on. I wish I could tell him he needs to place his bets elsewhere, that I'm a losing ticket. I wonder what the physics term for that is. Sure, there are dead stars. But at least before they died, they were stars.
And their death was a supernova—their death demanded attention. I'm pretty sure my death won't qualify as a supernova. No one is going to be around to see my energy go out. Except maybe Harry, but I doubt he'll be paying much attention.
"Taylor," he repeats. It's as if he thinks it's some magic word that is suddenly going to jump-start my brain and turn me into the type of girl who would know the answer.
Mr. Scott and I engage in a staring contest. He doesn't blink.
Finally I give up and I say, "Doesn't it have to do with how our perception of things can't always be trusted? Like our human mind is too slow to be able to fully comprehend things that are fast."
"Things that are fast?" He rolls his wrist in the air, urging me to go on.
"Like the speed of light. Doesn't it have to do with the speed of light? I think the special theory of relativity has to do with light and then there's the other theory he came up with." "The general theory of relativity," Mr. Scott adds.
"Yeah. And that one mixes gravity in the equation."
"Perfect." Mr. Scott gives me the cheesiest thumbs-up and I want to fade into the ether. In these moments, it always feels like my skin is too thin, like everyone can see right inside me, can see my empty and dark insides.
"You're exactly right, Taylor. Bravo." He grins like he has no idea how uncomfortable this situation is.
I pull at the sleeve of my striped shirt and stare straight ahead at the board. Mr. Scott goes on to explain that Einstein transformed the whole field of physics with this theory. He gives us the most basic explanation of the special theory of relativity. He explains that nothing travels faster than light and that light is always measured at the same speed, no matter how fast you move or in what direction you move. Basically, the speed of light is constant. We can't ever travel faster than light and we have no way of slowing it down.
And time isn't constant. At least not our human concept of time. Einstein theorized that the faster we move, the slower we perceive time to move. The clocks will still tick away at the same rate regardless—but it's all about the perception of the observer.
I guess pretty much everything in life is about the perception of the observer.
Mr. Scott says, "And you know Einstein has a pretty famous quote about relativity. Does anyone know what it is?"
The class is completely silent.
Mr. Scott picks up the dry-erase marker and starts writing on the board. Once he's finished, he reads aloud what he scribbled down. "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."
I press my pencil into the notebook paper, making little graphite smudges all over the page. I wonder if there really is something to Einstein's theory. Ever since I met Harry and made the Crestville Pointe jump plan, time has flown by. I want to believe that the change has nothing to do with Harry. That maybe time just moves the quickest at the end. I guess that would make sense. I know everything is close to being gone forever, so my desire to rush it is a little less.
I do everything slower recently, like chewing my granola bars so I can really savor the chocolate chips. And I slosh the orange juice around in the back of my throat a couple of times before swallowing to make sure I really taste the sour-and-sweet citrus. Maybe Einstein was right. Maybe because I'm moving slower now, time is moving faster. Maybe that's just the way the universe works and it has nothing, nothing at all, to do with Harry and how getting to know him has shifted my perspective.
But honestly I don't know. I just don't know.
The bell rings as Mr. Scott is saying he isn't assigning any homework over the weekend. The class erupts with applause and I try to mask my disappointment. I enjoy doing the practice problems. They give me something to do when it's 2:00 a.m. and the house is silent and dark and Kendall is conked out, snoring slightly. The practice problems make me feel less alone. It's funny how figuring out the gravitational pull of a random object can make you feel more grounded.
I get up from my desk and shove my physics notebook into my backpack. I'm about to dart out of the classroom when I see Mr. Scott walking toward me. "Taylor," he says. "Wait up." I sit back down in my seat and look up at him.
He places a glossy brochure in front of me. "The University of Kentucky sponsors a two-week summer program for students interested in the sciences." He grabs a chair from the desk in front of mine and pulls it up so he can sit across from me. He opens the brochure and points at the text on the third page. "There's even a special physics program. I think you'd really enjoy it."
I take a deep breath. I can't exactly tell Mr. Scott that I won't be able to attend that summer program because I won't be alive. "I have to work during the summer."
His lips twist into a sympathetic smile. I've never noticed how dark and soft his eyes are; they remind me of a horse. Maybe I was wrong about Mr. Scott. Maybe he did always want to be a teacher. Maybe he's one of those people who were built for caring. "You don't have to worry about the money if you get in. They give you a scholarship for the tuition and room and board for the two weeks." He pushes the brochure closer to me. "I think it'd be a really great experience for you, Taylor."
I take the brochure and slide it down into the depths of my backpack. I tell him I'll consider applying and thank him for thinking of me. Later, in math class, I pull the brochure back out and run my fingers over the shiny photographs. I wonder about all the so-called great experiences I'm going to miss; I wonder about the relativity of greatness.