Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss

Parks Amy Noelle Parks

Description

Now in paperback, a heartfelt YA rom-com about smart girls, love-struck boys, and quantum theorySeventeen-year-old Evie Beckham has never been interested in dating. She's fully occupied by her love of math and her frequent battles with anxiety. Besides, she's always found the idea of kissing to be kind of weird and pretty unsanitary, when you think about it. But with the help of her therapist and her support system, she's feeling braver. Maybe even brave enough to enter a prestigious physics competition or to say yes to the new boy who's been flirting with her. Evie's best friend, Caleb, has always been a little in love with Evie, and though he knows she isn't ready for romance, he hopes that when she is, she'll choose him. So Caleb is horrified when he is forced to witness Evie's meet-cute with a floppy-haired, mathematically gifted transfer student. In desperation, Caleb decides to use an online forum to capture Evie's interest. When it goes better than he could've wished for, he wonders if it's possible to be jealous of himself. And Evie wonders how she went from eschewing romance to having to choose between two-or is it three?-boys.

Informations

• Publié par: ABRAMS BOOKS
• Date de parution: 05 janvier 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781683357155
• Langue: English

Extrait

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-3972-9 eISBN 978-1-68335-715-5
Text copyright 2020 Amy Noelle Parks
Cover illustration 2020 Andi Porretta
Book design by Hana Anouk Nakamura
Published in 2020 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact [e-mail] or the address below.
Amulet Books is a registered trademark of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
For Perry. My best friend. For always.
CALEB
I am not in love with Evie Beckham.
I d like to be more emphatic about this, but Leo and I are twenty minutes into a sprints workout, so I can barely talk at all, much less with any intensity. I drop to the ground and lie flat on my back.
Not time to stop, Leo says, checking his watch.
He is smack in the middle of his soccer season, but I am a pitcher, and baseball is still months away. I m only here because I felt bad about his solo workouts. No one should have to endure this torture alone, and despite the searing pain in my lungs, I didn t mind all that much until he started up about Evie.
Feel free to keep going, I tell him.
Instead, he sits beside me. You and Evie-you re always together.
We re friends, I say, although that doesn t begin to cover it.
Evie and I grew up in each other s pockets. When we were five, she came home from kindergarten to a locked house in the dead of winter because her absentminded parents (a mathematician and a psychologist) briefly forgot they had a daughter. My mom and dad rescued her, and we ve been inseparable ever since.
Almost four years ago, she talked me into applying to Newton Academy, the ridiculously selective math and science boarding school she, Leo, and I now attend. I agreed only because I thought I had zero chance of getting in, unlike Evie, who turned in her screening exam in half the allotted time. Her flex probably improved my chances, since it intimidated the hell out of everyone else, while I expected it.
When, to my everlasting surprise, we both got acceptance letters, I tried to talk Evie out of going. Despite the rosy picture she painted of days spent coding and building robots, I hadn t wanted to leave my family in Wisconsin for what is practically an all-boys school in downstate Illinois, wear uniforms, and work my ass off. My plan had been to coast through high school into my inevitable role as valedictorian, because while Evie will win the Fields Medal for mathematics someday, she will never get anything above a B in an English class.
But Evie had opened her big gray eyes, laid her hand on my arm, and said, Please? And so six months later, I packed my bags. Not that I regret it. I could have taught the coding classes at our high school back home, but our instructor here actually worked for Microsoft.
Do you think I have a shot? Leo asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Maybe, I say. The answer is no.
Evie is not a fan of new experiences. She eats about twelve foods (half of them beige), doesn t like talking to strangers, and at seventeen years old is still so afraid of learning to ride a bike that when we re at home, she uses her scooter for trips to the library-a habit that is both irritating and adorable.
So far, Evie has shown absolutely no interest in dating and has discouraged all comers with brutal efficiency.
A typical encounter usually goes something like this:
Gabe: You want to see a movie sometime?
Evie: I don t like movies. As soon as I figure out who everyone is, they re over.
Gabe: Well, the movie isn t actually the point.
Evie: I m going to do my physics now.
I find these interactions hilarious, but the victims of her unapologetic refusals tend to be less amused.
Why Evie? I ask Leo. Because I am protective.
Like a brother.
Or a cousin.
Or a concerned citizen with no familial relationship whatsoever.
Leo s quiet for a moment. Then he says, I like how you can tell she s thinking so much more than she s saying, and how she never backs down with Dr. Lewis. And the way she bites her lip when she s working on a problem? My physics grade dropped four points since I noticed her doing it.
There s nothing I can reasonably object to here. No hint that Evie is just some challenging level on a video game he d like to be the first to unlock.
If you re really not interested, you could talk to her for me? Leo says.
He is not the first to ask for help jailbreaking Evie s code, but I never provide tech support for my classmates. I like watching them crash and burn.
Because let s face it:
I am totally in love with Evie Beckham.
EVIE
These are the stories of my childhood:
Georg Cantor, the inventor of set theory, spent much of his life locked within the walls of an asylum.
Kurt G del wrote two of the most famous theorems in all of mathematics and then starved to death when his wife got sick, because he refused to eat food prepared by anyone else.
And game theorist John Nash disappeared into his own head.
I could go on, but the last time I saw Anita, she told me I needed to stop perseverating on ill-fated mathematicians. She said fixating on their troubles is unproductive. I wish someone would tell my mother.
Today, Anita invites me in before I have a chance to start my homework. The living room of the turn-of-the-century house has been converted into a therapist s office, including the requisite lounge on which to recline and French doors that lead out to a walkway so patients never have to encounter each other coming and going. This system is supposed to protect my privacy, but it just makes me feel as though I ought to be ashamed to be here.
The one consolation is Anita herself. She has a big smile, wild curly hair traced with gray, and feels more like an aunt than a doctor. She is the first therapist I found myself.
Mom, who wrote her dissertation on the relationship between mental illness and mathematical genius, sees my visits as preventative maintenance, and she picked a psychiatrist for me when I came to Newton. But I left him last year when I started to feel more anxious about going to appointments than I did about staying away.
How is everything? Anita asks, taking one of the chairs in front of the French doors because I refuse to lie down on that ridiculous couch.
Bex and I finished our applications for the University of Chicago. We applied because it has a top-notch theoretical physics department for me and an amazing med school acceptance rate for Bex. Knowing we ll be together makes me less panicky about the whole thing.
And Caleb? Anita asks with a smile.
Still making up his mind.
Would it be okay with you if he went somewhere far away?
I think about it. He won t.
You re very certain, she says.
And I am.
My fears are legion. All the normal ones-eight-legged creatures, enclosed spaces, speaking in public, dolls that talk, and overly enthusiastic elementary school teachers. But quite a few unusual ones as well-frogs (why do their legs bend like that?), bridges, empty swimming pools, full restaurants, and Jell-O (touching or eating, which Caleb says is entirely rational).
But I am not afraid that Caleb will go to college far away from me.
We ve been friends our whole lives. The simplicity of this statement doesn t capture everything I mean, but I m not sure what to add.
Sometimes friends grow apart, Anita suggests.
Not us, I say, but I don t like the flicker of doubt that flares up at her words.
I hope not. But it might be a good idea to widen your circle a little. Beyond Bex and Caleb. Get some practice getting to know people while you re somewhere you feel safe.
But people are boring.
You go to a school with 120 math and science prodigies, Anita says. Find a couple more who are worth your time.
We finish by reviewing each trigger that set me off this week. My doctors before worked on my anxiety only through cognitive behavioral therapy and medicine, but Anita s gone deeper, helping me see that my anxiety isn t only the product of my own brain. She taught me the words situational anxiety and helped me see that growing up in my hometown was a bit of a situation.
With her help, I got off my meds last spring. I m grateful for the space they gave me to get better, but I don t need them every day anymore. Mom is not quite convinced this is the right path, but Anita keeps reminding me that I am in charge of myself.
Keep up the good work, she says when our time is up, and I exit through the doors of shame.
The walk back to Newton in the bright October sunshine is quick. The school s grounds hug the university campus and are sprinkled with giant concrete statues of mythical beasts-unicorns, dragons, and sea serpents-which I have always thought an odd choice for a school focused on science. The main building is Gothic in style though it s less than a decade old, with panes of glass that are artfully cracked and leaded to give them the appearance of age. Caleb says this is so they can charge more in tuition, which doesn t make sense, but I ve learned to trust him on this sort of thing.
The dorm, more prosaic in construction, is connected by a corridor off the main lobby and hidden from view.