51
Professor Whitfield met me at the airport. He was wearing jeans and hiking boots and a dark gray hoodie that said Mountain State. There was no mistaking who he was. I gave him a little wave. He looked confused. Let the lying begin.
“Where’s your mother?”
I handed him the note. “She said she’s so, so sorry, but she had to go on this last-minute emergency trip to Philadelphia for her work. She said to go ahead and do all our testing—she’ll want to hear about all of it afterward.”
Professor Whitfield read the note. I looked around the airport and tried to act casual. He folded up the note and looked at me. Looked at me a little longer than I was comfortable with.
“Oh, well,” he finally said. “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet her.”
“You will, one day, I’m sure,” I said cheerfully. I wond
