The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna Page A

something new.”
    She cleared her throat.
    â€œBack to you, though. Are you really going to plead insanity here?”
    I’d been trying not to plead insanity to myself for years, but it was always out there, lurking. Like if I saw too many things or messed up too many times, it would claim me, the way cancer claimed other people. Dad might have been a combination of genius and insanity—the jury was still out—but I wasn’t him. And I was trying, desperately, to keep it that way.
    â€œNot at all,” I said. I leaned forward, put my arms on the desk and practically whispered. “Can I tell you a secret?”
    â€œOf course,” she said, leaning forward. “This room is nothing if not confidential.”
    I paused. I had no idea what I was going to say, so I looked to the carpet for inspiration, but it was just brown with blue flecks. Boring. And then I had it.
    â€œI sleepwalk,” I whispered.
    Principal Pattison sighed, came from behind her desk and sat in the chair next to me. I thought she was going to take my hands in hers, but luckily it didn’t go that far.
    â€œSophie, are you bored?”
    I was in high school. Of course I was bored.
    â€œI see this all the time with smart kids. You’re not challenged enough, so you act out in odd ways,” she said. “Maybe if you took a few more Advanced Placement classes. Or maybe you could play in the band! I hear the oboe is challenging.”
    My hourly existence was a challenge.
    â€œI’m not lying,” I said. And then, because I stayed up one night researching sleep disorders when I couldn’t sleep, I laid it on her. Authority armed with Wikipedia.
    â€œI’m a sleepwalker. Most people think it only happens at night, but it happens during the day, too. That’s the kind I have. So I didn’t intend to stage dive into someone’s table. And I didn’t even know I’d done it until I landed, which, of course, woke me up.”
    She leaned back in her chair. “Why isn’t this in your file?”
    I knew I had moments to convince her or risk expulsion.
    â€œHave you ever been the new kid at school?”
    â€œMany times,” she said. “My father was in the navy.”
    â€œThen you know how hard it is to make friends,” I said. “There is no way I would dive into the most popular girls’ table on purpose. Not only is it weird, it would also ruin any chance I’d have of making friends.”
    â€œIt’s true,” she said. “New kids are
desperate
to fit in.”
    â€œSo when I told you I was sleepwalking, I meant it.”
    She wrung her hands like they had the answer, as if squeezing them would make it pop out.
    â€œI’ll have to confirm it with your doctor,” she said.
    â€œOf course,” I said.
    She got up and walked back behind her desk, sitting down.
    â€œAnd your mother.”
    â€œTo be expected,” I said. That was why I’d given them a fake cell phone number when I enrolled. And then she leaned forward like she was going to tell me a secret, too. Like a slumber party in the middle of the day.
    â€œDoes this happen a lot? This sleepwalking thing?” she said.
    â€œNot anymore,” I said, making a note to thank my brain later. “I have medicine for it, I just forgot to take it this morning.”
    â€œOh!” she said, her voice brightening. “Okay, then. That’s an easy fix. You know how I remember to take my pills?”
    This was going to be good.
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI make my secretary remind me,” she said, laughing, and then she pressed the intercom button and yelled, “Millie! Water!”
    Seconds later, the door opened. Millie rushed in while I walked out.
    â€œSophie, wait,” she said, taking a few pills from an orange bottle and popping them into her mouth. “I can’t have you walking around unmedicated. Go home. You can bring the necessary