Free An Abundance of Katherines by John Green Page B

subtly; Colin’s lips pursed; Hassan rubbed at his five-o’clock shadow; Colin bit at the inside of his thumb; Hassan smiled; Colin nodded.
    “Okay,” said Colin finally. They had decided to stay. Like it or not, Colin thought, road trips have destinations . Or at least his kind of road trip always would. And this seemed a fair end point—sweet, if ceaselessly pink, accommodations; reasonably nice people, one of whom made him feel slightly famous; and the home of his first-ever Eureka. Colin didn’t need the money, but he knew how much Hassan hated begging spending money off his parents. And also, they could both use a job. Neither of them, it occurred to Colin, had ever, technically, worked for money before. Colin’s only worry was the Theorem.
    Hassan said, “La ureed an uz’ij rihlatik—wa lakin min ajl khamsu ma’at doolar amreeki fil usbu’, sawfa afa’al.” 34
    “La ureed an akhsar kulla wakti min ajl watheefa. Yajib an ashtaghil ala mas’alat al-riyadiat.” 35
    “Can we just make sure Singleton has time to doodle?” asked Hassan in English.
    “Is that some kind of gibberish?” Lindsey interrupted, incredulous.
    Colin ignored her, responding in English to Hassan. “It’s not doodling, which you’d know if you—”
    “Went to college, right. God, so predictable,” Hassan said. Then he turned to Lindsey and said, “We are not speaking gibberish . We’re speaking the sacred language of the Qur’an , the language of great calipha and Saladin, the most beautiful and intricate of all human tongues.”
    “Well, it sounds like a raccoon clearing its throat,” Lindsey noted. Colin stopped for a moment to ponder that.
    “I need time to do my work,” Colin said, and Hollis just nodded.
    “Splendid,” Lindsey said, seemingly genuine. “Splendid. But you can’t have my room.”
    His mouth half-full of rice, Hassan said, “I think we’ll be able to find a place to hunker down somewhere in this house.”
    After awhile Hollis announced, “We should play Scrabble.” Lindsey groaned.
    “I’ve never played,” Colin said.
    “A genius who’s never played Scrabble?” Lindsey asked.
    “I’m not a genius.”
    “Okay. A smartypants ?”
    Colin laughed. It suited him. No longer a prodigy, not yet a genius—but still a smartypants. “I don’t play games,” Colin said. “I don’t really play much.”
    “Well, you should. Playing is fun. Although Scrabble isn’t really the A#1 way of doing it,” Lindsey said.
    Final Score:
Hollis: 158
Colin: 521
Lindsey: 293
Hassan: 0 35
     
After he called his parents and told them he was in a town called Gutshot but failed to mention he was boarding with strangers, Colin stayed up late working on the Theorem in his new bedroom on the second floor, which featured a nice oak desk with empty drawers. Colin, for whatever reason, had always loved desks with empty drawers. But the Theorem didn’t go well; he was beginning to worry that he might lack the math expertise for the job when he glanced up to see the bedroom door opening. Lindsey Lee Wells was wearing paisley pajamas.
    “How’s the head?” she asked, sitting down on his bed.
    He closed his right eye, then opened it, and then pressed a finger against his cut. “It hurts,” he responded. “Thanks for your treatment, though.”
    She folded her legs beneath her, smiled, and sang, “That’s what friends are for.” But then she turned serious, almost shy. “Listen, I wonder if I can just tell you something.” She bit at the inside of her thumb.
    “Hey IDo That,” Colin said, pointing.
    “Oh, weird. It’s like the poor man’s thumb sucking, isn’t it? Anyway, I only do it in private,” Lindsey said, and it occurred to Colin that being around him was not really “private,” but he didn’t pursue it. “Right so anyway. This will sound retarded, but can I just tell you about that picture so you don’t think I’m an absolute asshole? Because I’ve been lying in bed thinking about