The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna

Author:Kari Luna
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-06-13T04:00:00+00:00

We walked down Fourth Street, and everything looked like I remembered—lush maples, colorful brownstones and blue skies that went on for miles.

“That’s the apartment,” I said, looking at the slip of paper I’d tucked into my pocket. “Number two sixty-two.”

“Is this the house you grew up in?”

“No, but our apartment wasn’t far from here.” I suddenly had an urge to go backward, back to a time when everything made sense.

“Hey, is this your dad’s car?”

Finny pointed at a Volkswagen Beetle that was parked in front of the house. It matched the gingko leaves that fell around us.

“It’s probably a neighbor’s car,” I said. “It’s almost impossible to find parking in front of your own house.”

Finny peeked in the back window.

“If this is your dad’s car, cleanliness is definitely not next to genius.”

I looked inside and saw physics books and Hershey wrappers, a picnic basket and empty wine bottles. It was definitely Dad’s car, even though there was a stuffed elephant in the passenger seat. He must have had amazing parking karma.

“Maybe he has a dog,” Finny said.

“He could have a completely new family,” I said, hands shaking. “I never thought of that.”

“True, but you’re his original family,” Finny said. “Plus he wrote a book for you, which totally trumps a tacky old elephant.”

I appreciated what he was doing, but my brain had already left the station, bound for What-if-ville.

“What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“He will,” Finny said.

“What if he has a beard or a mustache?” I said. “What if he lost his hair? What if he went corporate? Or gave up physics for the circus?”

Spinning mind, out of control.

“Finny, what if my dad is a professional clown?”

“Wow,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it hard. “In the history of forever, no world-class physicist has gone from string theory to wearing a flower that squirts water, okay?”

A flock of blackbirds flew by, squawking and scattering in the sky like pepper.

“Okay,” I said. I cleared my throat and straightened my skirt. “Let’s do this.”

Finny led me up the stoop—around the purple flowerpots with ivy flowing out of them, around the pile of newspapers and straight to the buzzer, which we didn’t have to use since a woman rushed out and we rushed in.

“That was easy,” I said. “Maybe we won’t even need our story.”

In case Dad didn’t answer the door, we had a story ready: Finny and I were reporters from the Erudite Reader, a high school literary journal that celebrated science. We were there for a scheduled interview with Dr. Sophia. Was he in?

Finny knocked on the door while I took a deep breath. Calm, Sophie, calm. A tall woman with long blond hair answered the door. She had a Calvin-Klein-meets-hippie vibe going on: faded jeans, white button-up man’s shirt, turquoise necklace and earrings. Sandals even though it was freezing outside. And she was standing there instead of my father.

“Hello,” Finny said, staying with the plan. “We’re from the Erudite Reader and have an appointment with Dr. Sophia.”

Her eyes were red and puffy.

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