Chapter 78: Cooper in Texas, Paige in New York
New Delhi
Rajesh's father looked at his son — who had gone from casually planning to have an American author detained on the subcontinent to swearing he loved America and would never do anything to jeopardize that relationship, all in the space of one conversation — and felt the specific exhaustion of a parent who has won a battle he didn't want to have.
He'd only intended to give Rajesh a preview of the practical speech he'd planned to deliver before his son went abroad to study. Keep a low profile. Don't cause incidents. Understand that the family's position required discretion in certain situations.
The result had been considerably more dramatic than intended.
Rajesh was currently sitting with the novel in his lap, looking at it the way a person looks at something they are both drawn to and afraid of.
His father left him to it.
University of Texas at Austin
Sheldon Cooper walked across campus on a Friday morning with the specific posture of someone who had waited a long time to be taken seriously and had finally arrived somewhere that mostly managed it.
He was eleven years old. He carried a briefcase. He nodded to people who greeted him by name, though he rarely used their names in return because he was still in the process of deciding who warranted that level of indexing.
Behind him, the conversation he'd already moved past:
"That's Sheldon Cooper."
"He seems kind of arrogant."
"He probably just doesn't know your name."
"He has a photographic memory. He knows everyone's name."
"Then how does he function? He can't sleep, he can't walk around, he understands everything instantly—"
"His biggest advantage is mathematics. Professors actually consult him."
"So why is he in physics and not math?"
"Someone asked. He said Paige chose math."
"Who's Paige?"
"Paige Swanson. Youngest undergraduate at Princeton. She published in a major mathematics journal two months into her first semester."
A pause.
"Are all the child prodigies this year just collecting at elite universities?"
Sheldon, already in the building, heard none of this. He found his seat, arranged his materials in their correct order, and waited for class to begin.
Friday Afternoon
Mary Cooper was parked outside the building at the agreed time, which was always on the dot because Sheldon had opinions about waiting.
"Comic store first?" she said, as he got in.
"Yes."
She drove. The Friday routine was established: comic store in Austin, then the three-hour drive back to Medford for the weekend. Mary had negotiated this arrangement with the university — Sheldon attended classes Monday through Friday, she stayed in Austin during the week, they went home together on weekends. It was not a convenient arrangement. It was the one they had.
She didn't like the comics. Some of the content made her uncomfortable in ways she'd expressed and then stopped expressing, because Sheldon had pointed out, with complete accuracy, that her objections hadn't resulted in any changes.
At the store, Sheldon spotted the Lord of the Hidden display immediately.
He picked up the first issue. Read the adaptation credit on the cover. Read it again.
Adapted from the novel by Adam Duncan.
His expression did something that Mary, watching from across the store, clocked immediately but chose not to address directly.
In the Car
Mary watched her son's face in the rearview mirror for about twenty minutes before saying anything.
"Honey, you seem bothered."
"I'm fine."
She waited.
"Adam published a book," Sheldon said finally. "And a comic adaptation. He didn't tell me."
"Maybe there's an explanation."
"There'd better be," Sheldon said, with the tone of someone who had decided to be reasonable about this but wanted that decision acknowledged.
"Call him when we get home."
"I intend to."
The Cooper House — Medford, Texas
George Sr. was genuinely glad to see Mary. Genuinely glad to see Sheldon too, in the specific way of a father who had made his peace with having a remarkable son he didn't always understand.
Sheldon called Adam's number from the kitchen phone.
"I mailed you a copy," Adam said, sounding surprised. "Before the official release. You haven't gotten it?"
"No."
"Huh." A pause. "Give it a few more days. I sent copies to everyone — FedEx, but FedEx has its own relationship with the word 'fast.'"
"You mailed copies to everyone and didn't tell anyone?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
Sheldon processed this. "That's an unusual choice."
"Did it work?"
A pause longer than necessary. "I'll let you know when the package arrives."
"Oh — and don't let your mom see the cover without context. The imagery might require some explanation."
Sheldon looked at the kitchen doorway, through which his mother was currently visible preparing dinner.
"Noted," he said.
Princeton University — New Jersey
Paige Swanson signed for the package, opened it, looked at the autographed first edition and the Dark Horse adaptation issue tucked alongside it, and allowed herself a small, private smile.
She'd heard about the book through academic circles first — a fantasy novel with unusual internal logic, someone had said. She'd been mildly curious. She was considerably more curious now.
She set it on her desk and went back to her mathematics.
She'd read it tonight.
Harvard University — Boston
Lauren signed for the package addressed to Juno.
She looked at the return address. Looked at the name.
She set it by the door for Juno to find.
Bergen County High School — New Jersey
Leonard had been waiting.
He'd told everyone in the comic store that Adam Duncan was his best friend. He'd been asked to prove it. He'd said he would. That had been two weeks ago and the evidence had not yet materialized, which had been the source of ongoing social difficulty.
He signed for the package with hands that were not entirely steady.
He opened it.
Inside: a first edition copy of Lord of the Hidden, personally signed. And a note, brief, in Adam's handwriting: For Leonard — my friend in New Jersey. — A.D.
Leonard walked into school the next morning with the book held at a height that ensured maximum visibility.
"This," he announced, to the general population of people who had doubted him, "is an autographed first edition. From my best friend. Adam Duncan. The author."
His grin did not fit on his face in a normal way.
He didn't care at all.
End of Chapter 78
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