ME, CINDERELLA?(17)

He flipped through the students’ work on his screen quickly, dismissing all those who had nothing written down. Then he went back and dismissed all those who were simply writing down partitions in any random order. He did not want guessers. He did not want anyone whose brains were disorderly.

Valentina still worked on in the second row. Her dark hair fell over her face, obscuring her eyes. She held the stylus carefully, precisely, as though cutting one slice of cake in two perfectly equal pieces. As he scanned through the remaining students on his screen, he tried to guess whose screen belonged to her. Perhaps this one, with the delicate handwriting, the numbers slanted in a hurry toward the right of the page. Perhaps this other one with the sums in an orderly matrix. One student had written all of the partitions out already and was beginning to show the proof for a general case.

Enough. He deleted the problem set, erasing all of the answers. Anybody still here deserved to move on.

As the problems went on and he dismissed the students more slowly, he grew prouder and prouder of Valentina. She certainly would become a great mathematician if she kept at it. All of the remaining few students—four of them—had done a remarkable job in their attempts at finding the answers to unreasonably hard questions. He thought he knew which tablet was hers before erasing the last question.

“Congratulations,” he said, looking directly at Valentina. She blushed and looked away. “You have passed the first round of testing. We’ll start the interview portion of the test now. Relax here; the interviews should take less than a half hour each. You first,” he said, pointing to the young man sitting next to Valentina. Eliot glanced back at the tablet on his desk. Although he wanted to be impartial, he knew that it would be hard to interview anyone after he had spoken with Valentina. He held out his hand to the young man who approached the front of the lecture hall.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Herceg.”

“Mark. Mark Joseph.” The boy shook his hand firmly and they walked out of the back exit of the auditorium to the empty classroom Eliot had chosen for the interviews.

“Very impressive. You and your fellow students. This is one of the finest test groups I’ve seen.” Eliot didn’t have to lie; the competition had grown fiercer each year, and this selection of students did not disappoint. Pasadena University, for all its administrative idiocy, certainly admitted some of the top mathematical talent in the country.

“Thank you, sir.” They sat in the student chairs, Eliot leaning back with his tablet in his lap. The boy scratched nervously at the side of his glasses.

“Mark Joseph. Any relation to the dean?”

“He’s my dad.” The boy stared down at his feet as though significantly embarrassed by having to reveal this fact. Eliot had to keep himself from laughing at the irony. After all that nonsense with Patterson, to have the dean’s son show up as a top candidate!

“Don’t worry, I won’t give preference one way or another. I only care about your math.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Which problem gave you the most trouble on the test?” he asked.

They sat and talked about the problems for quite some time before Eliot glanced at his watch and noticed over thirty minutes had passed. The boy impressed him, a good fit for the program and able to communicate his difficulties easily. A strikingly intelligent student. In any other year Eliot would have had his winner right there. And yet—

He had not dared to hope that Valentina would make it this far on the test. He thrilled to know that her mind was as top-rate as any of the other students there. He interviewed the other two boys in succession, leaving her for the end. Neither of the two other boys impressed him as much as Mark had. The red-haired one couldn’t explain his process except to repeat the particular steps he had taken, and Eliot needed someone who would be able to understand the broader strokes of the field he worked in. The same issue plagued the other student, who got frustrated while explaining his missteps on one of the proofs and clammed up completely when asked to describe his overall process of thought. No, he needed someone able to acknowledge their mistakes, someone who could talk him through their work. He hoped Valentina would be that person. If not, well, at least he had one candidate who could fill the spot.

Walking back down to the auditorium, Eliot felt his step grow lighter. She would do well, he knew it. She was a brilliant mathematician if she had gotten this far, and he already knew her temperament suited the internship. He walked into the auditorium filled with hope.

“Valentina—”

Her seat was empty. Eliot’s mouth stopped half-open. His thoughts turned slow, fuzzed.