Dinner itself was lively. Marcus insisted on sitting next to Kit, but Bascom sat directly across from her and pelted her with questions during most of the meal. Did you know that the average lifespan of a blueskin male was five years longer than a blueskin female? Did you know that in general, gulden men weighed fifteen pounds more than indigo men of comparable height? Did you know that Centrifuge ringcars were designed to achieve a maximum speed of one hundred miles per hour but that due to high traffic volume in the tunnels most cars rarely made it to half that rate?

“Let me guess,” Kit said, laughing again. “Science is your favorite subject in school.”

“I’m in the advanced class,” he said proudly. “And I have the highest scores! Even higher than Marrina Boswen.”

Kit glanced at Sereva. “An old nemesis, I take it.”

Sereva nodded. “She’s the smartest girl in his class. She always has been. And you know, generally, the boys aren’t as good at math and science as the girls are. So we’ve both been pleased at how well Bascom’s doing.”

“And where did he pick up this ability?” Kit asked. “Since neither his father nor his mother is particularly good at the sciences.”

“Well, I’ve always been terrific at math, but biology and chemistry and all that—” Sereva rolled her eyes. “Too boring. Maybe he picked it up from one of his grandmothers. They say some things skip generations.”

Jayson was shaking his head. “It didn’t skip over from my family,” he said. “We were all born with literary inclinations, even the girls. One of my sisters is a historian in her spare time, and the other is a poet. So Bascom seems to have developed these amazing abilities all on his own.”

“Which makes us even prouder of him,” Sereva said, smiling at her eldest son.

It had all been quite lighthearted over the meal but later, as Kit and Sereva sat in the library together, the talk became a bit more serious.

“Actually, Jayson and I had a little argument about Bascom just the other day,” Sereva told Kit. She was sipping another drink, and Kit had consented to a glass of wine. She was feeling sleepy after the rich meal, but she knew she didn’t have to bother to keep alert for the trip home; Simon would take her in the limousine.

“An argument? About what?”

“This science class, in fact. Bascom wants to sign up for the advanced class next year, too, and Jayson sees no reason he should. Thinks it’s all a waste of time and energy, since Bascom will never end up going on to City College or pursuing a degree in—in—medical science or something like that.”