The Theory of Everything Read Online Free PDF Page B

mimic, why polar bears like ice and what makes elephants majestic. I was shivering but acted like I was fine until he stuck his arms through the bars, trying to catch a capuchin monkey. He wanted to take him home because, evolutionarily, the monkey was my brother, but the guards didn’t like that answer. They also didn’t like it when they asked him to “come with them” and instead of going, he pulled a stainless-steel eggbeater out of his jacket pocket and charged at them. Assault by scramble.
    Before I knew it, he was sitting in the back of one of the police cars and I was sitting in the back of another, wrapped in a blanket. Scared. Sirens blared as they drove away, Dad waving frantically, me wondering if I’d ever see him again.
    I knew Mom was mad because she kept yelling—at the police station, in the car and in the living room. I wanted to yell back and ask her why every time Dad and I were together, she had to ruin it. Now I understood it wasn’t the pajamas or the zoo that made her angry, it was all of it. Including a lot of things I never saw. But at the time, I thought if she stopped happiness every time it appeared, it would think it wasn’t welcome. And in my five-year-old mind, that meant it wouldn’t show up anymore.
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    â€œShowing up is ninety percent of your grade,” Mr. Maxim said as I slipped into class. I was late because Mom had done the whole ambush-by-orange-juice thing. I hated it when she interrogated me over breakfast.
    â€œPreferably showing up on time,” he said, looking at me while I checked out his red gingham bow tie. “Labs start next week, so until then, ponder what we covered today. Velocity, which is a vector measurement of the rate and direction of motion, has exciting possibilities.”
    Mr. Maxim handed me the list of lab partners. I found my name and ran my finger directly across from it to find my probably better half: Finny Jackson. I had no idea who he was—who anyone was, really—but I hoped he was more into physics than the Urban Outfitters catalog, unlike my lab partner in San Francisco.
    â€œThere’s nothing more rewarding than asking a complicated question and coming up with an elegant solution,” Mr. Maxim said, tripping over a book and flying forward. As he caught himself on the file cabinet, I couldn’t help but wonder: was there an elegant solution for him?
    â€œSee you tomorrow,” he said as the bell rang. I grabbed my books and dashed out before Fab Physics Guy saw me. I spent the rest of the day dashing, hiding, ducking and avoiding. I knew I’d have to see him eventually, but it didn’t have to be today. Which is why I kept my head down and combined walking with ducking. Dwalking.
    â€œHi.”
    I looked up and practically knocked Fab Physics Guys’ Buddy Holly glasses off his face.
    â€œIt’s Sophie, right? Sophie Sophia?”
    I stepped back as people filed around us, heading for the real world.
    â€œI have to go,” I said. “I’m going to be late for class.”
    â€œThe last bell just rang,” he said, grinning. “School’s out. But I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say hi, since we’re going to be lab partners. I’m Finny Jackson.”
    Look up the origin of anyone’s name and you’ll find something familiar. Whether they’re born with it or grow into it, names oddly fit the people carrying them. Finny was probably short for Phineas, which means “oracle.” Hopefully the oracle of physics. And my name is two versions of the same name stuck together, both of which mean “wisdom.” Why I couldn’t just skip high school and go straight to college was beyond me.
    â€œPleasure to meet you,” I said, and then I curtsied. I had no idea why I did that.
    â€œAnd you,” he said, bowing. “Are you secretly British?”
    â€œThe most British thing about me is my