Meg’s eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t falter. “Can you name the country?”
“K-Kenya?” Even Galen couldn’t seem to tell if he was asking or telling. He relaxed as Hari nodded and turned to the next person.
Had we all listed our future majors, or were Meg and Hari flexing their ubergenius prowess? I tried to remember what I’d put on my application, but my brain was too busy racing through trivia. Isaac Asimov’s middle name was Yudovich. Octavia Butler died in February 2006. John Scalzi named his main character in Old Man’s War after two of the members of Journey.
Or was that a Wikipedia lie?
“My name is Perla Loya,” said the first girl on the My Little Pony blanket. She tucked her glossy dark hair behind her ears. “I’m from Santa Monica, California. When I get into Rayevich, I will major in literature.”
“What year was The Canterbury Tales published?” Hari asked.
Perla stiffened. “American literature.”
“Same question,” Meg said sweetly.
Perla looked at her roommate and then back at the counselors. Her voice came out in shreds. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” Meg said. It sounded like a check mark on a clipboard. “Next?”
We could be asked questions about subjects tangentially related to our interests? Balls.
Okay, time to dust off the mnemonic devices. My Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us Nine Planets. Mercury, Venus, Earth … No, wait. There was no way Meg and Hari would softball me with elementary school science.
Why couldn’t I remember why Pluto had been demoted to a dwarf planet? Something about sharing space with things other than moons. What else was in its neighborhood? Comets? Asteroids?
“Kate Brant,” said Perla’s roommate, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “I’m from North Bend, Oregon. I want to study psychology.”
“A girl after my own heart,” simpered Meg. “Which region of the human brain is the last to mature?”
“Jesus,” Brandon muttered.
“No cheating, B,” Meg snapped, without looking away from Kate’s narrow, bloodless face.
“Are all of the teams doing this?” asked the boy on the other side of Brandon. All of the blood in his face seemed to have been rerouted to his large ears. It was a good question, but one that we weren’t going to get an answer on. I hoped that Isaiah was also being grilled.
But, really, Cornell was probably going to shake everyone’s hand until it was time for dinner.
“The last region of the brain to mature is the prefrontal cortex,” Kate said. She frowned at Meg. “You published a paper on it three years ago in the Journal of Adolescent Developmental Behavior.”
Meg gave a delicate shrug. “With some help. It was high school, after all.”
My throat tightened. Leigh hadn’t been exaggerating. If this was what the Messina Academy was churning out, there was a good reason that they only served Central Oregon. If they ever franchised, there would be terrifying evil masterminds all over the country.
“I’m Leigh Faber,” Leigh said, not waiting for anyone to acknowledge her. “When I start at Rayevich, I will double in computer science and art studio.”
“That’s quite a double major,” Hari said. He glanced at Meg. “Do you want computer science or art studio?”
“Art,” she said. “Leigh, darling, what is the chemical compound of Egyptian blue?”
“Oh, goody. I get twice the fun,” Leigh said without a hint of sarcasm. “Egyptian blue was made of calcium copper silicate.” She cracked her knuckles and shook out her shoulders. “Hit me, Hari.”
“What year was Hewlett-Packard founded?”
“Nineteen thirty-nine, in Palo Alto, California, which is now known as the hub of Silicon Valley.” Her lips pursed. “Is that all?”
Hari adjusted his glasses. “For now.”
I heard a crackle. Looking down, I saw that I’d smashed in the sides of my water bottle. I shoved it aside.
“My name is Ever Lawrence,” I said, saying each letter carefully to keep from spewing out my real name. “I’m from Sacramento. I want to major in science fiction literature.”
Hari’s gaze zeroed in on me. “And who were the Hugo Awards named for?”
I pictured the Hugo seal—a silver rocket on a round sticker that was plastered to the front of so many of the books I owned. I knew that the award began in the early 1950s, but the exact date seemed to have dropped out of my head. The early winners were all the golden age writers, magazine short stories that turned into cheap paperbacks.
The first Christmas after my parents divorced, I got a box of old science fiction magazines from Santa. I didn’t know that they were literally priceless. Inside of the pages of Tales of Wonder and Amazing Stories, I found worlds to disappear into.
I remembered the words set against the burning white screen of my laptop. I’d whispered them aloud before I clicked Send on my entrance essay, barely making the midnight deadline.
“The Hugos are named after Hugo Gernsback,” I said, “the editor of Amazing Stories magazine.”
Hari and Meg turned to Brandon. Leigh gave me a congratulatory bump with her knee.
“I’m Brandon Calistero,” Brandon said. He wound one of his shoelaces around his index finger. His black and white Converse Chuck Taylors were battered to the breaking point. “I haven’t decided on a major yet.”
I saw the first glint of ice in Meg’s face. It froze her lips into a single line and sent her eyebrows into stiff arches. She didn’t like having her game derailed.
“That’s fine,” Hari said. “In a game of poker, how many combinations of a full house are possible?”
Brandon dropped his shoelace and frowned at Hari. “Three thousand seven hundred and forty-four ways. Providing that the cards haven’t been dealt yet. Probability drops down to—”
“Correct,” Meg interrupted. “Next?”
The boy with the big ears raised his hand in a nervous wave. His hair was shaved down to a light brown fuzz. It was oddly military, paired with his gray sweater vest and the Windsor knot of his tie. “Hi. I’m James Hobart, but everyone calls me Jams. I’m from Kent, Washington. I’m planning on majoring in theater arts. Well, dramaturgy, but it’s under the umbrella of—”
“And what was Julie Taymor’s first professional production?” Meg asked.
“Oedipus Rex? In Japan.” Jams swallowed as Meg and Hari kept staring at him. “It was an opera.”
“The purpose of this exercise…” Hari said, addressing the circle at large. Jams closed his eyes in relief. “Other than getting to know each other, is to instill in you the importance of being able to back up your work. Peripheral knowledge won’t get you through the Melee. Always be prepared to show your work. If you’re faking, you will be found out.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I resisted the urge to take another sip of water. Fidgeting was for the guilty.
“That said,” Meg said with a titter, “these are the people you’re going to spend your summer with. So let’s play a quick name game before we crack open our binders. We are here to have fun, right?”
No one returned her smile but Leigh.
7