A long sigh comes from her. “Never change for anyone except yourself.”
“It’s not for anyone. It’s for me.” I’ve decided it really is.
“You’re sure?”
A while later, she’s rinsing the color from my hair as we discuss my book, when Topher brings my cell over. “It’s been going off straight for the past five minutes. Someone named ‘Corey From Class.’ Thought you might need to get it.”
After sitting up, I wrap my hair in a towel and call him back.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Corey breathes heavily, his voice low. “Ms. Riley, I really hate to bug you. I know you study all the time.”
I look around at the Cut ’N’ Curl. “Um, yeah. It’s cool. Just wrapped up some research.” On my romance book.
“Class was bad. Me and . . . say hi, Addison!”
I hear her voice in the background. “Hey, Ms. Riley!”
“We had a terrible fu—freaking teacher today, one of those TAs, only we didn’t understand a word he said. Talked in fu—freaking circles about relativity and black holes for an hour, and now he wants a summary of what we learned emailed to him by tonight. I can copy straight out of Wikipedia, but you know I really want to understand.” He huffs. “The jerk ruined one of the coolest things in space.”
“Black holes are still awesome,” I assure him.
Aunt Clara pops an eyebrow. “Are they?”
I shoo her.
Another huff from Corey. “To me, black holes are the vacuum cleaners of the universe, and when I said that, he nearly flipped a table. He also said they’re invisible and don’t even suck everything!” He exhales. “In Zanthia, it’s a swirling black spiral that you can clearly see, and it destroys a whole fleet! All the good space movies are ruined. It’s okay when you do it, but not him.”
Annoyance at my cohort makes me frown. Why stifle a kid’s imagination and dismiss a somewhat fair analogy? It’s not really a vacuum, but it’s a common misconception. “What he meant is that black holes don’t really suck; they have a gravitational pull, just like everything does, plus an event horizon, and once matter passes that point, it will be pulled in. Also, event horizons appear to emit a light when accelerating matter passes the boundary, so invisible is not quite accurate. What was his name?” I usually pay attention only to my teaching schedule and not everyone else’s.
“See!” he calls to Addison. “Dude was a dick. I don’t know his name. He never told us.”
I close my eyes. Why couldn’t he try to be personable with these kids? “Back to the vacuum and the idea that it sucks everything—you ever watch Sesame Street and see Cookie Monster devour cookies?”
“I have a Cookie Monster shirt. It says ‘Eat Me,’” he chirps. “Girls love it.”
“Of course they do. Think of black holes as Cookie Monster eating anything that gets close, munching and spitting, some of the bigger crumbs falling out. Some of the matter that’s pulled in is large, but once it hits the event horizon, particles fly everywhere—some in, some out.”
“I like my vision better. Giant Dyson. Black spiral. Maybe a wormhole to another dimension.”
“No. An invisible Cookie Monster with a flash of light when matter approaches.”
He sighs. “He was just up there spouting off facts and pissing me off when he didn’t explain them—like I’m supposed to just get those words he used.” He groans. “I shouldn’t have called you. You’re busy—”
“Where are you now?”
“The library. I’ve got a stack of books in front of me, and frankly, I’m ready to rip them apart with my teeth. Dude. I usually only rip off beer tops with my teeth.”
I bite back a smile at the image of him and Addison disgruntled in the library. “Books are expensive, and it’s not their fault. Take a breath. Wait for me.” Auditorily is not the way Corey learns. He needs to see my face, and I can draw some diagrams . . .
“Would you really come?”
“I can’t have your black holes dream dashed, so yes.”
He yells, “I told you she would, Addison!”
She squeals in the background, and I hear him rustling back to me. “I . . . shit, Ms. Riley . . . thank you, thank you. I swear I won’t drink this weekend just for you, just in case you ever need a kidney,” he says.
After getting off the call with him, I grab my purse, then pull out several twenties and leave them on Aunt Clara’s counter.
Her mouth twitches. “Hate to miss whatever color your hair turns out, but go and save little Corey.”
I run a quick brush through my hair.
“Can I come?” Topher calls out as I head to the exit. “I want to watch you in action, and I really want to ride in Red.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
He grins. “The Daisy Library is closed today after lunch. Let me be your ride-or-die bitch. I don’t know much about black holes, but I can google on the way there. We can stop and grab some cookies and use my sock as a puppet.”