Chapter 11: The Invitation
The Duncan House
"Keyboardist? Who?"
Emmett looked confused. Juno, on the other hand, figured it out immediately.
"Sheldon Cooper?"
"Yeah," Adam said straightforwardly. "He's a genius."
"Hold on — you mean that little kid?"
Emmett put it together and immediately shook his head. "No way. What does a nine-year-old know about rock and roll?"
Sheldon Cooper's name was already well known around the county. A kid entering high school at nine was hard to miss.
"Trust me, he'll make an excellent keyboardist," Adam said with complete confidence.
From what he knew, Sheldon had perfect pitch, was comfortable with piano, guitar, and several other instruments, and when he let his guard down — like when he'd had too much to drink at a faculty party years from now — there was a genuinely unrestrained, expressive musician underneath all that rigidity. Young Sheldon hadn't really been exposed to music yet in any serious way, but for someone with his ability, picking up an instrument wouldn't take long at all.
And honestly, the keyboard playing was secondary. The real goal was getting close enough to Sheldon to test whether proximity to him would move the intelligence numbers.
"I disagree," Emmett said flatly. "Adam, please tell me you're joking."
"Why not? He's going to be our classmate next semester. You're not going to discriminate against him just because he's younger, are you?"
"Yes," Emmett said. "That is exactly what I'm doing."
Adam looked at him for a long moment.
"I have a dream," Adam said slowly and solemnly.
Emmett's expression darkened considerably.
In the end, the vote went through.
"Great," Adam said. "We go invite him tomorrow. Hard Candy is officially a band."
"You sure you don't want to wait until school starts?" Juno raised an eyebrow. "You're really going to walk up to his front door and say — hey, we've got a great band, we just need a keyboardist, can your nine-year-old join?"
Adam hesitated. He thought about Emmett's barely concealed reluctance, Juno's particular brand of memorable first impression, and his own face — which was fine, just completely unremarkable — and felt a brief flicker of doubt.
Even a normal kid might turn that offer down. And Sheldon Cooper was not a normal kid. Sheldon's mom was a devoutly religious woman who was deeply protective of her son. This could go sideways in a dozen different ways.
But the thought passed.
"We're genuine about it," Adam said. "That counts for something. And Sheldon needs friends. He just doesn't know how to find them."
Juno paused, then nodded. "That's actually fair."
She thought about it and realized Sheldon and herself probably looked pretty similar from the outside — both eccentric, both difficult to get close to, both the kind of kid whose parents quietly worried about whether they'd ever find their people.
The Cooper Family Home
Medford, Texas
"Dinner!"
Mary Cooper set the last dish on the table and called out to the house.
George Sr. came in from the living room with George Jr., the two of them in the middle of a football conversation that neither was willing to pause. Missy came skipping in right behind them.
"Shelly!"
Mary called toward the hallway.
"Coming."
Sheldon walked in at his own pace, in no particular hurry.
George Sr. picked up his fork, and Mary immediately extended both hands — one toward her husband, one toward Missy — and bowed her head for grace. George Sr. set the fork back down with the expression of a man who had accepted his circumstances, took his wife's hand, and waited.
Sheldon sat down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He put them on carefully, then took his father's hand on one side and George Jr.'s on the other.
"He's adopted," George Jr. said, staring at the gloves. "I'm just going to keep saying it until someone admits it."
"I have a twin sister," Sheldon said, turning to look at his brother with complete seriousness. "The math doesn't support your theory. Think it through, Godzilla."
George Jr. glared at him. He had several responses forming, none of which their mother would let him use.
"That's enough," Mary said firmly. "Nobody is adopted. Let us pray."
"I wouldn't mind being adopted," Missy muttered under her breath.
"Is that right?" Mary gave her a look. "It's not too late to arrange something."
Missy went quiet.
It was a strange thing, being the only daughter in the Cooper household. By any reasonable logic she should have been the favorite — but her father's world revolved around football and George Jr., and her mother's attention was permanently fixed on Sheldon. Missy existed in a kind of comfortable neglect that she'd made her peace with, mostly. She spoke up at dinner mainly to remind everyone she was still there.
Grace was said. Dinner began. Mary steered the conversation as she always did.
"Shelly, you're starting high school next semester. Aren't you excited?"
"Extremely," Sheldon said, and meant it. He had been ready to leave the intellectual desert of middle school for some time. High school would be marginally better. Not much, but marginally.
"What about you, Georgie?"
Mary smiled at her older son.
"My entire social life is about to be destroyed," George Jr. said. "Having my little brother in the same school is going to be a disaster and I want that on the record."
"He's your brother. You should look out for him."
"You're finished," Missy said to George Jr., pointing her fork at him with genuine sympathy. "Once you're seen with Sheldon, your friend group is gone. All of them."
"I know," George Jr. said gravely. "Which is why it is never going to happen."
Mary frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced at Sheldon — who was eating his dinner and giving no indication that any of this conversation involved him — and at the latex gloves still on his hands, and sighed quietly to herself.
She loved that boy with everything she had. She also knew, in the honest part of her heart, exactly how hard the world was going to be for him. She'd been able to manage things when he was younger — Missy had been a willing enough companion through elementary school. But high school was different. She couldn't arrange that. She couldn't control it.
Lord, she thought, cutting her steak, please let that boy find even one friend. Just one.
End of Chapter 11
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