“Scarlett Jackson? I think I’ve heard of her. She’s a chef or something, right?” I settle back on the bed, following her lead so I can lean against the wall and stretch my legs out. I remember Momma telling me about some rumors involving Scarlett and Bruce Conway, a local businessman. A local married businessman. Not sure exactly what happened there, but Scarlett left town shortly after the rumors started. In a town as small as this, you can’t sneeze sideways without some detail of it getting around.

“Yep. An amazing one. She moved to New York City last year, chasing her dreams. She’s starting her own business, mingling with celebrities, the whole thing.”

A shout outside the door startles her into her formerly tense posture.

I ignore the noise and gesture for her to continue.

“Anyway, I guess my point is that they are happy, but it had a price. For Scarlett and me, anyway.”

“What price?”

She fidgets with the edge of her T-shirt, not meeting my eyes. “The price of being normal.”

“What do you mean? You are normal.”

She laughs and watches me out of the corner of her eyes. “Says the man who no less than five days ago thought I had special needs.”

Heat fills my face along with a healthy dose of shame. “I never said that. And I was an ass.”

“I won’t argue with you.”

“I’ve been proven wrong, Reese. It’s not an excuse, but I was in a bad place and wanting to lash out at someone. You happened to be convenient. I know better now. You’re smart. Like, really smart.”

Now it’s her turn to flush and look away. “I’m above average maybe, but so are a lot of people.”

“You’re being modest. I’ve seen your physics book. And you killed me at trivia. Wait. The math problem, during the scavenger hunt. Did you write it?”

Her head ducks. “Yes.”

“That was not a simple theorem.”

“It was for me.”

She won’t look at me. My eyes trace over her jawline, her lips curved in a bow, her hands clasped in her lap, and a tendril of attraction wraps around me, along with a whisper of intimidation. “You’re lucky. I wish I were so smart.” Maybe then I could graduate early and help my parents that much sooner.

“Except I can’t even decide on a major.”

“Why not?

She blinks. “It’s hard to explain. I’m . . .” She glances away and then back. “I’m a polymath.”

“A what now?”

“It’s a person of wide-ranging knowledge or learning. Someone whose expertise spans a significant number of subject areas. The term itself is a derivative of poly, meaning many, and manthanein, a Greek verb meaning to learn.”

I stare at her. “Reese, this is amazing.”

She won’t meet my eyes. Instead, she picks up the pillow and holds it in her lap, fidgeting with the fabric at the corner.

“You can literally do anything.”

“But don’t you see?” Her eyes meet mine, flashing in frustration. “It’s impossible to pick only one thing. Our current global economy is hyperspecialized, while I’m a student of all things but a master of none. My parents are brilliant artists. Scarlett is a brilliant chef. I am more of a jack-of-all-trades. I can’t find any one specific thing I want to learn or excel at above all others.”