Replication by Jill Williamson Read Free Book Online

one
.
    “Hi,” Abby said.
    The African American girl smiled, chomped on her gum a few times, then turned to a shaggy-headed boy across the table. “Dylan, you totally lost me again. I just don’t get what you subtract from what for the fundamental theorem.”
    Warmth filled Abby from inside. They were talking math. Pro number two!
    Dylan sighed as if the girl had said she couldn’t figure out how to get her straw into her milk carton. “Okay, Kylee. Listen closely this time. I’ll make it as simple as possible.” He shook his hair out of his eyes. “The theorem uses a definite integral instead of an indefinite one. So, if the function
f
of
x
is nonnegative and continuous between the interval of
a
and
b
, you find the integral of that function by doing the antiderivative and plugging in the numbers of
b
and
a
respectively to get an exact number, as opposed to a general solution like you’d get from an indefinite integral.”
    Kylee blew a tiny bubble and sucked it back in, the gum crackling and popping in the silence around the table. Her unresponsiveness told Abby she still hadn’t understood a word Dylan had said.
    Abby seized the silent moment. “Once you have the antiderivative, you do the top number minus the bottom.
b
minus
a
.”
    Kylee sucked in a sharp breath and slapped her palm on the table. “Thank you! You don’t know how long I’ve been trying to get that.” She turned to Dylan. “Simple is best with me.”
    Dylan frowned at Kylee. “But that’s exactly what I said.”
    Abby smiled and bit into her slice of pizza. She’d found her people.
Thanks, God
.
    After lunch, Abby weaved through the students crowding the lobby on her way to computer class.
    JD cornered her by the trophy case with his cool-man—stalker?—lean. “Second day better than the first?”
    She backed against the glass to get some personal space. “Yes, actually.”
Ooh
. Her stomach flip-flopped. Six feet tall with thick, tousled brown hair and eyebrows that could flirt all on their own. She fought back the girly sigh trying to abduct her rational side and reminded herself this boy had trouble written all over him.
    And he still reeked.
    “You didn’t sit with me at lunch.”
    “I had to help a girl with her calculus.”
    “Ah. So you think you’re going to waltz in here and steal my valedictorian spot?”
    Valedictorian? Abby made the mistake of looking into his chocolaty eyes. She slid down the glass as if she actually melted a little. “I don’t—aren’t you a senior? I’m only a junior. I thought I told you that.”
    He chuckled softly, his smile lighting up his face. “I’m just teasing.”
    “Are you really valedictorian?” Abby asked.
    “So far.” He raised a finger just over her shoulder and tapped the glass. “That one there is all me. I ran a thirty-yard touchdown against Colony with no time left on the clock. Took MVP of the tournament.”
    Ug. How easily JD bounced between interesting, smart hunk and cliché über-full-of-himself quarterback. And now he was way too into her personal space. His body was so close that, even if she wanted to, she couldn’t turn to admire his football award. Abby peered under his arm, mapping a getaway route. Resorting to violence on her second day might make a bad impression, but she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea.
    Second option: If she could duck and turn, she might be able to snake her way free. Too bad she wasn’t the most graceful of athletes. This plan could backfire into an embarrassing sprawl across the crowded lobby floor. She glanced back to JD. His eyes closed and he leaned down.
    Uh oh.
    She turned her head and his lips met her ear.
    Abby gasped. “
What
are you
doing
?”
    He recovered with a raised eyebrow. “I like you.”
    “Like me? We just met yesterday.”
    JD’s lips stretched into a grin, and the brainless fool came in for another try. Abby ducked and he lip-locked the trophy case. How apropos.
    Two of his letter-jacket-wearing