The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna

raising his arms and cheering. “I raised you well.”
    As I watched him do his victory dance, I wished I could do more than tell Finny. I wished I could show him.
    â€œFirst things first, though,” I said, dancing with him. “I have to get through my date.”
    â€œWhat’s to get through?” he said. “You’re adorable. You have nothing to be nervous about.”
    â€œNothing?” I said, stopping and staring at him.
    â€œI’m not going to ruin your little rendezvous, if that’s what you mean,” he said, standing still. “Contrary to popular opinion, I actually want you to be happy.”
    â€œWhat about my episodical tendencies?”
    â€œI can’t predict or control those,” he said.
    â€œBut you can give advice,” I said. “And I don’t mean telling me to be myself.”
    â€œDeep breaths,” he said. “Try to ground yourself in the moment. But more than that? Have fun. I’ll give you a head start.”
    Walt started at one end of the bathroom and did high kicks to the other end, making me smile. He ended with a spin and bumped into one of the hand dryers, turning it on.
    â€œWhoa!” he said. And then he bent down, put his mouth under it and spoke.
    â€œWhoooooaaa,” he shouted, his voice vibrating off the tile. “Do you ever do this?”
    â€œNot since I was little,” I said.
    â€œIt’s ridiculous!” he said, taking a breath. “You have to join me!”
    It reminded me of Dad, the way he always asked me to join him. The way he believed there was so much more to our reality than what we could see. I bent down beside Walt and held his hand like a pact. And then I put my arm around his middle and leaned in as he pushed the button again.
    â€œWhooooaaaa,” I shouted, hearing my voice in a new way.
    â€œWhooooohhh,” we continued, sending the voices of panda and possibility through space.

TEN

    Come back, come back, don’t walk away.
Come back, come back, come back today.
    â€”The Cure, “In Between Days”
    After physics class and Walt, I was so excited that I rushed to Café Haven, forgetting that I wanted to be fashionably late.
    â€œHi,” I said to the barista at the counter. She was wearing a black shirt, black skirt and a diner name tag that said “Callie.”
    â€œCan I get a vanilla latte for here, please?”
    â€œSure,” she said. “And I like your tights.”
    She nodded at my plaid ones, which is when I noticed her black and white argyle ones.
    â€œThanks,” I said. “I like yours, too. And your shoes.”
    We compared Doc Martens and laughed.
    â€œYou kids,” an older waitress said, walking by and smiling. “You’re so eclectic.”
    â€œThat’s Judy,” Callie said. “She owns the place and is actually awesome. She lets me wear whatever I want, eat whatever I like and play whatever I’m feeling.”
    â€œThat’s cool,” I said. “What kind of music do you like?”
    â€œEverything,” she said. “That’s why I go from Sinatra to The Clash to Tchaikovsky, even though he’s a little repetitive. I’m a fan of musical open-mindedness.”
    I was glad she didn’t have x-ray vision, because if she had, she would have seen the stack of mixtapes in my bag and busted me for being stuck in a singular decade.
    â€œYou’re a friend of Finny’s, right?” she said, handing me my latte. It smelled like heaven in a cup.
    â€œYeah,” I said, walking toward the booths. “You’ve heard of me?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” she said, walking beside me. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to him since forever. Sophie, right?”
    â€œRight,” I said. I set down my cup and slid into the booth. “Sophie Sophia.”
    â€œGreat name. Should I put in Finny’s order? Double chocolate milk