By mid-October, Medford High had finally admitted what I already knew on the first day. They were running out of problems big enough to keep me and Sheldon busy.
It started small: teachers whispering in the halls, then came the meetings. One by one, the adults assembled in the principal's office to debate how to handle "the Cooper situation," as if we were an epidemic instead of two kids with extra neurons and no off switch.
Mom sat across from Principal Peterson, her Bible pressed between her hands like a stress ball.
"Mrs. Cooper," he began carefully, "your boys… they're gifted."
Mom gave the answer she always gave. "That's what the Lord gave them."
He nodded nervously. "Yes ma'am, it's just that their, uh, academic velocity is causing some… disruption."
Sheldon and I were in the room, along with a few teachers. Mrs. Ellis, my math teacher, spoke next.
"Stephen finishes tests in five minutes, then corrects the answer key. And Sheldon, well… he argues with the key."
Mom smiled like that was normal.
Principal Peterson sighed. "We're simply not equipped for this level of advancement. We've reached out to East Texas Tech for consultation."
Mom blinked. "A college?"
"They've recommended an external mentor, someone who can provide academic supervision without overwhelming the staff."
I watched them talk about us. They wanted containment, not understanding. Still, the idea of a mentor interested me. If they actually found someone qualified, maybe, just maybe, I'd get to stop pretending.
Mom exhaled softly, gripping her Bible a little tighter.
"If it helps my boys, I'll allow it. But what's his name?"
"Sturgis," Peterson said. "Dr. John Sturgis. He teaches physics at East Texas Tech."
Mom nodded. "Alright then. If it's for my boys."
As we left the office, Sheldon practically vibrated.
"Stephen, do you realize what this means? A real physicist! Someone who understands quantum fields and antimatter!"
I raised an eyebrow. "And patience? Let's hope."
He ignored me, already listing questions he'd ask. I glanced back through the glass door, teachers still huddled around the table, relief on their faces.
Dr. Sturgis arrived the following Thursday. The front office buzzed with nervous energy; teachers whispered like someone famous had walked in.
He was thinner than I'd imagined, slightly hunched, gray at the edges, wearing a tie that had seen better decades. But his eyes, bright and erratic, never stopped moving.
"Ah! You must be the Coopers," he said cheerfully. "Two brilliant boys under one roof, statistically improbable, but delightful nonetheless."
Mom smiled politely, unsure what to say. Sheldon looked like a disciple meeting his prophet.
"Dr. Sturgis! I've read your paper on temporal causality, twice!"
"Oh?" Sturgis beamed. "Did you find the paradox, or did it find you?"
They dove into equations before introductions even finished. I just watched. His hands moved faster than his words. There was brilliance there, but also gentle chaos.
Principal Peterson gestured toward me. "This is Stephen, Sheldon's brother. Also exceptional."
Dr. Sturgis turned to me with interest. "Do you prefer the certainty of numbers or the mystery of patterns?"
"Patterns," I said. "They explain both."
He grinned. "Excellent."
"I believe you two need an environment that feeds you, not one that fears you," Sturgis continued. "I teach at East Texas Tech, Friday evenings. You'd be welcome to audit my class."
The room went silent.
Mom folded her arms. "College? Absolutely not. They're children, Dr. Sturgis, eleven and nine! I was told you were coming here to mentor them, not drag them to a college an hour away."
Sturgis's tone softened. "Mrs. Cooper, curiosity doesn't care about age. It only asks to be fed."
Mom's jaw tightened. "And I care about safety. College students can be… worldly."
Principal Peterson interjected carefully. "It would only be one evening a week, ma'am. Supervised. Educational."
Mom sighed, torn between fear and faith. "If I find out those college kids mess with my babies, I'm pulling them out faster than you can spell physics."
Dr. Sturgis chuckled. "Splendid! Then it's settled. I'll see you boys Friday."
As he left, he turned to me. "You seem to listen more than you speak. Keep that. The universe tells its secrets to those who pay attention."
I nodded. Another observation for later.
The halls of East Texas Tech smelled like chalk and old books, the kind of place where even the dust seemed smarter than most people.
It was just past four o'clock when Mom dropped us off at the Physics Building.
"You boys behave," she warned. "If anybody offers you coffee, you say no."
"Caffeine helps with focus," Sheldon protested.
"Not your kind of focus," she shot back.
Dr. Sturgis met us at the entrance, practically glowing.
"Ah, the Coopers! Right on time."
The classroom wasn't like Medford High, tiered seats, chalkboards on every wall, equations ghosting from old lectures. Twenty students stared at two kids carrying notebooks half their size.
Whispers followed us down the aisle.
Is this a prank? Are they his relatives?
We sat in the front row.
Dr. Sturgis clapped once. "Tonight, we'll discuss quantum tunneling, the idea that particles can pass through barriers that should be impossible to cross. Much like, say, you two being here."
Laughter rippled. Mom wouldn't have approved, but the humor was harmless.
Then he began. For the first time in months, I felt my mind move. His words weren't lectures, they were invitations.
He moved through ideas the way artists moved through color, messy and passionate.
Sheldon scribbled notes like a machine. I just listened. Sturgis skipped logical steps the way others skipped stones, gracefully, dangerously.
Midway through, he paused, chalk frozen midair.
"If we consider the probability function ψ and assume a finite potential barrier, what happens when energy exceeds expectation?"
Silence.
Sheldon raised his hand. "It collapses through the barrier, of course."
"Correct!" Sturgis said. "But why?"
No one answered.
I did. "Because the universe doesn't enforce limits. We do."
He turned, intrigued. "Young man, that's not physics."
"It's an application," I replied. "Every system looks closed until you find the variable you ignored."
A beat. Then a smile. "Marvelous. A philosopher in a physicist's shell."
The class chuckled softly, unsure whether to laugh or take notes.
When it ended, he walked us to the lobby. "You both have extraordinary minds. But remember, brilliance isn't a race. It's a flame. If you don't pace your burn, you go out before the discovery."
Sheldon nodded, probably missing the meaning. I didn't.
Outside, Mom's car waited at the curb.
"So?" she asked as we climbed in.
Sheldon's eyes sparkled. "He's magnificent!"
I smiled faintly. "He's human."
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just… observation."
As we drove off, the lights of East Texas Tech faded behind us. The lesson wasn't about particles or barriers. It was about potential, and the cost of using all of yours too soon.
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Schedule update I will be posting 5 chapters a week on Saturday