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She bunches her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“She could’ve been a gold digger and an arsonist at the same time. One doesn’t exclude the other.”
She huffs, displeased that I want no part in her wishful thinking.
“The Prince Fredric Hall is straight ahead at the end of this corridor,” Angie informs us.
Realizing something, I stop in my tracks and turn to Camille. “Where’s your costume? Aren’t you supposed to wear a costume for your living statue act?”
“I won’t be competing in the Pantomime category,” she says.
Angie and I gawk at her, astounded.
She puts her chin up. “I signed up for the Logic and Reasoning track.”
“But why?” At the end of her question, Angie’s mouth remains open in dismay.
Camille shifts her gaze to me. “You called my miming ‘glorified bumming,’ remember?”
“I was wrong.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, you were.”
“So, you’re punishing me for belittling your art.”
“How is that a punishment?”
I say nothing and just stare at her. If I didn’t feel something like sympathy for this unusual woman, I would’ve bitten out,You know you’ll make a fool of yourself, and I’ll be humiliated by association.
She gives me a sardonic look. “You think everything is always about you, don’t you? But this isn’t about you.”
“What is it about, then?” Angie asks her.
“I love logic puzzles, so I thought I’d give it a try. I wanted to challenge myself.”
“It’s one thing to love something, but it’s quite another to be good at it,” Angie remarks, veryà propos.
“Oh, I’m good at it,” Camille claims.
“How do you know that?” Angie’s eyes tighten at the corners. “Did you get good grades in math?”
“I didn’t get good grades in anything,” Camille says. “Changing foster homes every two to three years made school complicated.”
“Yet, you expect to do well in this contest?” I study her face, confused.
“Many years ago, I found this old book in the attic of one of my foster homes,” she says. “What is the name of this book?”
I lift my shoulders. “Why are you asking me? I have no idea.”
She giggles. “No, silly, that’s the title.What Is the Name of This Book?It was written in the fifties, I believe, by Raymond Smullyan, an American mathematician and magician.”
“Sounds like an oxymoron,” Angie mutters.
“What is it about?” I ask Camille.
“It’s a book of amazing logic puzzles for kids and adults.” Her eyes light up. “I opened it once out of boredom, and before I knew it, I was trapped inside its pages, solving puzzles!”
“That’s it?” Angie frowns in disbelief. “Your entire training for this contest is one book of logic puzzles for children?”
