Chapter 25. In Which, for the First Time in Mathematical History, the Impossible Becomes Possible
IN WHICH, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MATHEMATICAL HISTORY, THE IMPOSSIBLE BECOMES POSSIBLE
“We’re here,” Luca announces, shoving a few leafy branches aside to form a clearing.
I come to a stop beside him.
Before us stretches a cliff hanging over Canvasback Lake.
I step forward, taking in the pines and bigleaf maples soaring above our heads, and the clovers and other wildflowers beneath our feet. We’ve walked twenty minutes deep into the woods, far away from the promenade. Nobody around to interrupt.
Out here, I can see the stars perfectly. It’s like we’re in Van Gogh’s Starry Night. The constellations swirling in the sky are that clear and bright.
When Mom and Dad sent me to brAIN, I assumed I would loathe every second of it.
That I would want to leave the moment I snatched the Medal of Victory.
But now all I want to do is linger right where I am.
These woods are starting to feel more comfortable to me than the city.
It will be hard to go back, where Mom and Dad are breathing down my neck every second.
Despite everything that has happened, Bachelor Island has been a respite, I have to admit.
“It’s beautiful,” I mumble.
“I’m glad you think so,” Luca says. He walks past me and takes a seat on the ledge, letting his legs dangle over the lake. He pats the dirt beside him.
My heart lurches up into my throat. “What if we fall?”
“I’ll catch you.”
Another lurch. “What if we both fall?”
“Then we’d better both know how to swim. We’re sitting over the lake. Not land.”
My worries barely subside, but that calm, caring tone of Luca’s has me stepping forward anyway. I join him on the ledge and set my miniature backpack down beside me, then pull out my notebook. I can’t forget why I’m here. To make sure Luca is okay and to share my slap shot findings. Nothing more.
“Tell me about what’s going on up there,” Luca says suddenly, pointing at the sky. He scooches closer, our thighs just barely touching.
“Oh,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from how close we are. “Sure. I know a lot of facts about stars.”
“Not facts. Just what you like most.”
My gaze narrows in suspicion. “Is this another lecture about passion?”
“Maybe,” Luca says, his voice coated in fake innocence.
I set the notebook in my lap and lean my weight back on my palms, watching the sky. It feels unnatural, even uncomfortable, letting my posture slip. But I’m alone with Luca. I don’t think he’ll judge me. “There are green stars.”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious. Our sun is green.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” I say more sternly. “The peak wavelength of light emitted by the sun is closest to green, but it appears yellow to us because of the way Earth’s atmosphere scatters blue light. This makes it look yellow.”
“So, you’re telling me that all of those stars are green?”
“Of course not.”
He lets out a short sigh of relief. “Good.”
“They’re also red and blue.”
Luca stares at me deadpan. He lightly shoves my shoulder. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” I say, teetering back and forth. “And if I found out tomorrow that rainbow stars existed, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Nope. Astronomy is remarkable like that. There’s always something right around the corner, waiting to undercut everything we once thought we understood. It’s unpredictable. It’s exciting. That’s what keeps me coming back for more.”
Luca nods a few times. “I get that. In a way, that’s why I love hockey.”
My head perks. “How’s the slap shot?”
“Not awesome.” He plays with the gold rings on his fingers, the way he only seems to do when something is bothering him. “I’ll be honest, I feel like a total failure.”
Normally, I’d relish Luca admitting this. But my concern overtakes that. I don’t want him to think so negatively about himself. “Hey. You’re not.”
“I am. In a literal sense.”
“Luca,” I say sternly. “You’re not a failure. You’re the opposite—” The rest of my words lodge in my throat as I register my genuine frustration rising. I grip the notebook tighter.
Luca would want to know these equations. He would be thrilled. And I want to share them with him. Not to make up for past mistakes or eradicate my guilt.
Because I care.
A wave of anxiety rolls through me, the same as when Christiana confronted me in our cabin the other day.
I don’t think anyone made up a lie, Rory. I think they just have eyes.
The memory of her words nearly paralyzes me. I don’t care about Luca. I don’t. I’m just confused. Exhausted from brAIN.
Besides, this doesn’t change the past. The thirty-six competition wins he’s taken from me. Harvard’s high school program. Very possibly the Medal of Victory if our cabin doesn’t keep its act together.
And Luca doesn’t need any of it. Not when he’s destined for a life on the ice.
I slip the notebook back into my backpack beside me, holding off a moment. Luckily, Luca doesn’t notice, or maybe doesn’t care, what I’m doing with my hands.
“Why are you here?” I ask. It’s a forward question, but in this secluded space where it feels like no one else exists, this conversation feels natural.
Luca’s mouth twitches as if he’s holding back a giggle. “Are you asking why I’m here literally or existentially?”
“At brAIN,” I clarify. “You’re a hockey genius. That’s your dream. For your career.”
“I hope so, yeah.”
“So, why are you so involved in academics? Why not spend all your time playing hockey?”
Luca rolls his shoulders like I’ve broached a touchy subject. For a moment, I regret asking him and worry I made him uncomfortable.
Then he says, “It’s the only way I can go to Cornell for hockey.”
“What do you mean?”
“It has to do with my dad.” He glances my way, like he’s seemingly asking whether I’m fine with him killing the mood.
“What about him?”
“We haven’t talked since I was a kid. All I know is that he got rich when I was little by founding some fitness start-up. He married another woman, moved to LA, and started a new family.”
My heart sinks. “I’m sorry.”
“I mean, he’s why I got into brAIN,” Luca adds. “I used his credentials to impress the admissions team. So, there are pluses.”
“I guess.”
“Even though Cornell scouted me and gave me a verbal agreement, they can’t give athletic scholarships. And their admissions office will still count his income if I apply for financial aid. Meaning I’ll get basically nothing. But I would easily qualify for a full ride if he weren’t in the picture.”
“Can you prove he’s not around anymore?”
“Technically, he’s still legally required to pay my mom minimal child support.
Not that he ever does.” Luca leans back on his elbows, his pronounced collarbone popping out of his tank top.
He studies the stars like he’s searching for something.
A part of me wonders if he’s distracting himself from his own words.
“Unless I get legally emancipated or have him sign paperwork that says he doesn’t financially contribute to my life, I’m out of luck.
How am I supposed to get him to sign paperwork if I can’t even get him to answer the phone? ”
“Does it have to be Cornell? What about the other Ivies?”
Luca nods. “I’ve been scouted by most of them.”
Of course he has. “What about those?”
“It’s not just Cornell that can’t give out athletic scholarships. It’s all the Ivies. It’s to make sure every student still meets their academic standards. brAIN—the Medal of Victory contest’s scholarship—is the only other way I can get one.”
The weight of Luca’s words hits me square in the chest. Everyone else at this camp wants to win for clout.
But Luca actually needs this scholarship.
“What about a public university?” It leaves my mouth weak and unconvinced. There’s no way I’ll present a solution that a genius like Luca hasn’t already considered. “Aren’t they more known for their sports?”
Luca methodically plays with the rings on his fingers. “An Ivy is my mom’s dream for me. I would do anything for her. She raised me and my siblings all by herself. She just got her citizenship last year. And Cornell is pretty much always D1.”
“What’s D1?”
“Division One hockey. Basically, the best college teams.”
“Oh.” That’s all I can think to say. His reasons for being at brAIN aren’t just out of necessity. They’re admirable.
The guilt of what I’ve done to him grows and grows. Bigger and bigger. Knotting and twisting and darkening.
“It’s okay. I’ll figure it all out.” His voice is charged with something electric now, like he’s remembering all the times he hit ninety miles per hour and is determined to do it again.
A small smile rises to my lips despite the torrential downpour of fuck fuck fuck happening within me. “I know you will.”
“Really?”
“Since we got here, you’ve turned down every chance to have fun in favor of practice. Instead of giving Ophelia or Jason your number, you just go to the rink. Everyone wants to spend time with you, yet you’re always on the ice. It’s your life.”
The treetops rustle. The waves rise and fall against the rocks below, counting each second of silence between us.
Luca eventually breaks it with a weak laugh. “I suppose there hasn’t been anyone who’s interested me enough to give up the ice.”
Every other emotion seeps out of me, leaving behind nothing but disappointment.
This disappointment, though, is different from the other times I’ve felt it. Before, when I was around Luca, disappointment was always fused with impatience and anger. At myself for losing over and over. At him for being in my way.
This time, it leaves behind a sharp sting.
It feels eerily close to hurt.
Luca’s face slackens. I must be showing that disappointment plainly on my face, even though I don’t want to be. His gaze drifts to my jacket again—his jacket—and then back up. “Rory.”
His voice is soft now. Gentle.
All he said was my name. Nothing more. But the way he’s observing me like no one else on this island exists leaves me struck. “What?”
“I’ve turned them all down”—Luca hesitates—“because you’re here.”
A streak of smoke cuts up through the sky on a whining whir. Pops of bright blue scatter across the dark shadows of the cumulus clouds.