“Midnight, if you want to be exact,” I interjected.
“Just when the clock strikes midnight,” Mark continued, “if you listen, you can hear the ghost playing in that locked room.”
Quentin’s eyes widened.
“No fucking way.”
“Way,” Mark said.
“So which problem are you guys working on?” I said. I’d heard this tale too many times to be impressed. Quentin shoved the book my way, his finger pressed to the second practice section.
“Why won’t they open the ghost room up?” Quentin asked, still riveted by Mark’s story. Of course, it was just a story, no matter how many times the music majors repeated it in hushed tones. Nobody believed that there was actually a ghost in the old locked room. Some prankster with a remote control playing a radio through the air ducts, more like.
“Some rich philanthropist guy gifted the piano to the school,” Mark said, shoving the candle back to the center of the table. “I guess they don’t want anyone messing it up, so they don’t let anyone use it.”
“Makes sense,” Quentin said, rolling his eyes. “Music people.”
“But Dr. Stetson said they might be opening it up Sunday for a special showing to music majors,” Mark said.
“So much for us second-class citizens.” I lifted my eyes away from my textbook and joined Mark in an exaggerated shrug. The music majors always looked down their nose at the math and science kids who came to the practice halls to play just for fun.
“You couldn’t go anyway, dummies,” Quentin said. “We have that thing on Sunday.”
“What thing?” Mark said.
“The internship Budapest thing. The one with all the tests and shit.”
“That’s Sunday?”
“I’ve only reminded you every day for the past week,” Quentin said.
“Oh, shit,” I said. With all the panic over upcoming exams, I had forgotten what day it was. “Sunday?” My job had me scheduled all afternoon.
“Look at this,” Quentin said, leaning back in his chair and balancing on only two legs while he spread his arms out, gesturing toward me and Mark. “The creme de la fucking creme, and they forget the most basic of shit. This is the test of the year, assholes.”
“I didn’t forget,” Mark said. “I just forgot the day.”
“You there, Brynn?” Quentin snapped his finger in front of my nose.
My attention returned to the table.
“Yeah,” I said. “I have to get someone to cover my shift.”
“Get Shannon to do it.” Mark shrugged. “She’ll do it if you tell her what it’s for.”
“Sure, get Shannon to do it.” Quentin said, flipping a textbook page. “Can we get on with this problem set already?”
“Sure, how did you get that number nine was an equivalence relation?”
Quentin let his chair fall forward to the ground with a loud crack. Two students at the other end of the library perked their heads up like meerkats at the sound, but Mark and Quentin were already bent over, hot in debate about whether or not the relation in number nine had the symmetric property.
After we had finished a couple of problems, Mark turned to me and spoke softly. “You better ask your roommate soon if you want her to cover your shift. This is important to you, right?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to talk about it here. Not in front of Quentin. Mark only knew my secret because of an accidental slip of the tongue, and I wasn’t about to let Quentin see my pain, too.
“Hey, did you see the weather for tomorrow?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“We heard on the radio that it might snow for another three days,” Quentin said. “Do you know what that idiot newscaster said about it snowing today? ‘What are the chances?’ she said. ‘What are the chances?’ I hate it when non-math people talk about probability. “#p#分页标题#e#
“What are the chances of it snowing today?” Mark said.
“The chances are one hundred percent,” Quentin said. “Do you know how I know?”
“Because you know everything,” I said, placing my chin on top of my folded hands.
“Because it is snowing,” Quentin said. “That’s how I know.”
“But… it could’ve not snowed,” I said.
“Wrong.” Quentin wasn’t one to mince words.
“Wait. Is this that thing with the destiny and the quantum physics you’ve been going on about all week?” Mark said. He waved one hand in front of his face. “Wait. Brynn. Don’t get him started.”