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“Doesn’t it?” I looked away, annoyed that I’d slipped. My father had actually arranged for me to be tested when I was about her age. He’d watched me like she did now, eyes wide and shocked.
It’d all happened the night I’d asked if I could try some class problems that he’d created for his university students. I found school far, far too simple and regularly searched for harder.
He’d grinned and patted me on the back. “Don’t be sad if you don’t get any, son. I don’t make them easy. It’s why I’m known as The C Professor. I very rarely hand out grades any higher because no one can crack my tests.”
I’d fallen quiet as he’d passed me a pencil and continued his work. Meanwhile, I’d sat beside him, my brain on fire, colours flowing with every number until I only saw in rainbows. My blood crackled as each equation danced and dipped, smooth and bright, forming the right one.
I’d finished in thirty minutes.
My father had almost fallen out of his chair.
And later that night, I heard him on the phone to my uncle who had his own successful accounting business—not because he was reasonably priced or did a passable job—but because he was said to be a genius when it came to numbers, using his skills for asset protection and fudging profits.
The back of my neck prickled as I ignored Neri’s question and shoved her tablet back toward her. “Denizati.”
“What?” Neri licked her lips.
“The word for seahorse. It’s denizati.”
“That’s really pretty.” She smiled then murmured, “The word you call me sometimes...when you’re sleepy or loose and don’t catch yourself in time...what does it mean?”
I froze.
She was right that I only ever used it when I was tired or more relaxed than usual.
Anna knew what the word meant, and she’d thrown me a look the first time I’d slipped when addressing Neri. I went out of my way to ensure Jack and Anna never suspected I felt anything more than a brotherly-sisterly bond with Neri.
But that one word...
Fuck.
“Another time.”
“Tell me now.”
“It’s not important.”
“I would’ve believed you if you’d just spit it out, but now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s some secret code.”
“Code?”
She fluttered her eyelashes, reminding me she was still the little she-devil who thought she could fix me, cure me...marry me. “Code for I love you.”
“Seni seviyorum is I love you. Have you ever heard me say that?”
She held my eyes, her shoulders slouching. “No.”
“Exactly.”
“But you do...right? Love us?”
My heart pattered painfully. “Of course, I do. You’re the reason I’m alive. Your parents are the reason I’m not in some refugee camp or deported.”
“But you never say it.”
“Don’t take it personally.” I stood, unnerved by this conversation and ready to use work as an excuse to get away from her. “Finish your maths—”
“Tell me the word you use. What is it? Janum or Janniim...something like—”
