Chapter 9

“For my favorite student? Always.”

“You don’t have a class? I’m sorry, I should have thought—”

“No, I’m between classes just now, so tell me. What can I do for you?”

“I…I can’t stay here at Harvard.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t—”

“Are you being bullied?”

“No. No, it isn’t anything like that.”

He was silent for a moment. “Suppose you tell me what’s going on.”

“Did you happen to hear about me hitting my head on a concrete floor?”

“Yes, that was a year and a half ago, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes.” I drew in a deep breath. “The thing is, it did more damage than we realized at the time.”

“What kind of damage?”

“It’s affected my brain. I…I can’t…” I couldn’t prevent the quaver in my voice, and I was annoyed with myself. My voice hadn’t broken since I was twelve. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”

“Andrey, don’t hang up.”

“I—”

“If you hang up, I’ll call you right back.”