looked at the sky through the leaves, at the buildings solid with purpose. At such moments she thought of Camden, bending the will of an entire genetic research institute to create her in the image he wanted.
Within a month, she had forgotten all such mega-musings.
The work load was incredible, even for her. The Sauley School had encouraged individual exploration at her own pace; Harvard knew what it wanted from her, at its pace. In the past twenty years, under the academic leadership of a man who in his youth had watched Japanese economic domination with dismay, Harvard had become the controversialleader of a return to hard-edged learning of facts, theories, applications, problem-solving, and intellectual efficiency. The school accepted one of every 200 applicants from around the world. The daughter of England’s prime minister had flunked out her first year and been sent home.
Leisha had a single room in a new dormitory, the dorm because she had spent so many years isolated in Chicago and was hungry for people, the single so she would not disturb anyone else when she worked all night. Her second day a boy from down the hall sauntered in and perched on the edge of her desk.
“So you’re Leisha Camden.”
“Yes.”
“Sixteen years old.”
“Almost seventeen.”
“Going to out-perform us all, I understand, without even trying.”
Leisha’s smile faded. The boy stared at her from under lowered downy brows. He was smiling, his eyes sharp. From Richard and Tony and the others Leisha had learned to recognize the anger that presents itself as contempt.
“Yes,” Leisha said coolly, “I am.”
“Are you sure? With your pretty little-girl hair and your mutant little-girl brain?”
“Oh, leave her alone, Hannaway,” said another voice. A tall blond boy, so thin his ribs looked like ripples in brown sand, stood in jeans and bare feet, drying his wet hair. “Don’t you ever get tired of walking around being an asshole?”
“Do you?” Hannaway said. He heaved himself off the desk and started toward the door. The blond moved out of his way. Leisha moved into it.
“The reason I’m going to do better than you,” she said evenly, “is because I have certain advantages you don’t. Including sleeplessness. And then after I out-perform you, I’ll be glad to help you study for your tests so that you can pass, too.”
The blond, drying his ears, laughed. But Hannaway stood still, andinto his eyes came an expression that made Leisha back away. He pushed past her and stormed out.
“Nice going, Camden,” the blond said. “He deserved that.”
“But I meant it,” Leisha said. “I will help him study.”
The blond lowered his towel and stared. “You did, didn’t you? You meant it.”
“Yes! Why does everybody keep questioning that?”
“Well,” the boy said, “ I don’t. You can help me if I get into trouble.” Suddenly he smiled. “But I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m just as good at anything as you are, Leisha Camden.”
She studied him. “You’re not one of us. Not Sleepless.”
“Don’t have to be. I know what I can do. Do, be, create, trade.”
She said, delighted, “You’re a Yagaiist!”
“Of course.” He held out his hand. “Stewart Sutter. How about a fishburger in the Yard?”
“Great,” Leisha said. They walked out together, talking excitedly. When people stared at her, she tried not to notice. She was here. At Harvard. With space ahead of her, time, to learn, and with people like Stewart Sutter who accepted and challenged her.
All the hours he was awake.
She became totally absorbed in her class work. Roger Camden drove up once, walking the campus with her, listening, smiling. He was more at home than Leisha would have expected: he knew Stewart Sutter’s father and Kate Addams’s grandfather. They talked about Harvard, business, Harvard, the Yagai Economics Institute, Harvard. “How’s Alice?” Leisha asked once, but Camden said he didn’t
Within a month, she had forgotten all such mega-musings.
The work load was incredible, even for her. The Sauley School had encouraged individual exploration at her own pace; Harvard knew what it wanted from her, at its pace. In the past twenty years, under the academic leadership of a man who in his youth had watched Japanese economic domination with dismay, Harvard had become the controversialleader of a return to hard-edged learning of facts, theories, applications, problem-solving, and intellectual efficiency. The school accepted one of every 200 applicants from around the world. The daughter of England’s prime minister had flunked out her first year and been sent home.
Leisha had a single room in a new dormitory, the dorm because she had spent so many years isolated in Chicago and was hungry for people, the single so she would not disturb anyone else when she worked all night. Her second day a boy from down the hall sauntered in and perched on the edge of her desk.
“So you’re Leisha Camden.”
“Yes.”
“Sixteen years old.”
“Almost seventeen.”
“Going to out-perform us all, I understand, without even trying.”
Leisha’s smile faded. The boy stared at her from under lowered downy brows. He was smiling, his eyes sharp. From Richard and Tony and the others Leisha had learned to recognize the anger that presents itself as contempt.
“Yes,” Leisha said coolly, “I am.”
“Are you sure? With your pretty little-girl hair and your mutant little-girl brain?”
“Oh, leave her alone, Hannaway,” said another voice. A tall blond boy, so thin his ribs looked like ripples in brown sand, stood in jeans and bare feet, drying his wet hair. “Don’t you ever get tired of walking around being an asshole?”
“Do you?” Hannaway said. He heaved himself off the desk and started toward the door. The blond moved out of his way. Leisha moved into it.
“The reason I’m going to do better than you,” she said evenly, “is because I have certain advantages you don’t. Including sleeplessness. And then after I out-perform you, I’ll be glad to help you study for your tests so that you can pass, too.”
The blond, drying his ears, laughed. But Hannaway stood still, andinto his eyes came an expression that made Leisha back away. He pushed past her and stormed out.
“Nice going, Camden,” the blond said. “He deserved that.”
“But I meant it,” Leisha said. “I will help him study.”
The blond lowered his towel and stared. “You did, didn’t you? You meant it.”
“Yes! Why does everybody keep questioning that?”
“Well,” the boy said, “ I don’t. You can help me if I get into trouble.” Suddenly he smiled. “But I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m just as good at anything as you are, Leisha Camden.”
She studied him. “You’re not one of us. Not Sleepless.”
“Don’t have to be. I know what I can do. Do, be, create, trade.”
She said, delighted, “You’re a Yagaiist!”
“Of course.” He held out his hand. “Stewart Sutter. How about a fishburger in the Yard?”
“Great,” Leisha said. They walked out together, talking excitedly. When people stared at her, she tried not to notice. She was here. At Harvard. With space ahead of her, time, to learn, and with people like Stewart Sutter who accepted and challenged her.
All the hours he was awake.
She became totally absorbed in her class work. Roger Camden drove up once, walking the campus with her, listening, smiling. He was more at home than Leisha would have expected: he knew Stewart Sutter’s father and Kate Addams’s grandfather. They talked about Harvard, business, Harvard, the Yagai Economics Institute, Harvard. “How’s Alice?” Leisha asked once, but Camden said he didn’t
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