Whether accelerated students received counseling support.
Whether there were limits on how quickly they could advance.
I liked him for those questions.
Perhaps that was unfair.
Perhaps I had spent so long around adults who saw Ethan’s intelligence before they saw Ethan that basic awareness felt extraordinary.
But I liked him anyway.
“You picked a good one,” I told Denise.
She followed my gaze.
“Jonathan?”
“No. The cake.”
She stared at me.
Then realized I was joking.
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
A smile came slowly.
“You like him.”
“I’ve known him for forty-seven minutes.”
“You’ve disliked people faster.”
“That is true.”
Denise nodded.
“He’s patient.”
“With you?”
“Unreasonably.”
“That seems necessary.”
She bumped my shoulder lightly with hers.
For half a second, we were teenagers again.
Then Mom approached carrying two paper plates.
“Cake?”
“No, thanks,” I said.
Denise accepted hers.
Mom looked at me.
