Dodgeball

Chapter 27: "Go ahead, tell me I'm a genius."

I shine my flashlight ahead of my feet, so that I don't step on anything either disgusting or treacherous. There are mouse droppings everywhere, and I can see why - apart from finding P through Z - Mickey wanted me up here. In a way, the conservatory is the better deal. Despite the looming presence of Dr. Fronk - and it feels like he could literally just walk through a wall like some sort of spook - the conservatory is clean and familiar.

But let's face it. It doesn't have Mickey. "Smells up here," I say.

Mickey's sitting on one of the crates, already reading one of Dr. Fronk's files. I don't even have to look to know it's Gerard Yu's.

"What do you think?" I ask him.

Mickey clears his throat and tips his head. He puts a couple of papers down on the floor, next to a dead cricket.

"It's hard to say," he tells me. "Take a look."

I sit down, Indian style, and read two of Gerard's papers - pretty much cover to cover. One from "before" and one from "after."

The first one concerns game theory and is definitely a solid B. But the next one is great. It's on Galileo's application of mathematics to experimental physics. Exactly what I'd expect from Gerard - at least from what I've seen of his stuff in Homework Club this year.

But here's the thing. As far as style and organization of content, they're not that different. One is totally better than the other, but not in a way that makes it inconceivable that they were written by the same person. I mean, the vocabulary is similar, the sentence structure - even topically, it seems right in line with Gerard's interests. What distinguishes one paper from the other - and I guess there's no other way to say it - is sloppy thinking.

Gerard's exploration of game theory is thorough enough, but doesn't really say anything. As I read it, I kept wanting to ask why I should care. But the one on Galileo is lucid and elegantly thought-out. Not only does Galileo come alive as a person, but his now ancient discoveries feel so relevant - like that he put forth the basic principal of relativity that was central to Einstein's theory of relativity.

I place both of the papers on top of the cabinet and look at Mickey.

"He could've just been distracted - you know, with stuff going on at home, like you said."

Mickey nods. "Or maybe he was just a lot more interested in Galileo."

But that's not the Gerard I know. "Mickey, Gerard's papers are always impeccable. Even the ones he couldn't have enjoyed writing. Some might sparkle a little more than the others, but the quality is just so consistent."

"What's your gut tell you?"

And that's the thing. My gut is swirling and weird and painful and tight. It has been since all of this started.

I try to look at the whole situation - take a snapshot in my mind the way my dad tells me. I think about Gerard in Homework Club and Gerard last year. I didn't help grade his papers last year, but I did have him in music composition and classical lit. He never said much, but he never seemed unprepared either.

And there is something a little bit sad about Gerard. Not like he's totally depressed or anything - it's just that nothing really seems to bring him joy. The way I love ballet and loved reading A Wrinkle in Time so much that I read it again right after I finished it. The way I love Zombie Apocalypse Now and old movies. The way I wonder if I would love Twilight. The way I want to live in Roma one day and walk Via Margutta with passion fruit gelato in one hand and a worn, leather-bound journal in the other. I dream of sitting on the banks of the Tiber river and reading Petrarca's sonnets to someone I truly love.