Chapter 62

It's still Cindy's turn:

The next day was the one I was most worried about. I met Mizz Patel at her office and she took me across campus to the office of a psychologist.

"Do not worry about this lady," Mizz Patel said. "She is working FOR you. She is going to do some assessments of your maturity and intelligence." She smiled. "And I see where she will find nothing but what everybody here has found about you thus far. You're mature and intelligent. But her assessment goes into the package we're putting together, a sort of mythos about Mizz Cindy, Star of Alabama."

I felt my face flush. I was blushing. Definitely blushing.

Mizz Patel saw it, too and laughed softly. "Oh, Cindy, I do so much hope this doesn't confuse you. You came to us sounding absolutely certain you were going to be at your husband's side as an electrical engineer. As It stands right now, the greatest hurdle to that goal is that engineering requires a succession of courses on the art and science of engineering. They won't be hard for you. For others, maybe, but not you. They are, however, requisite for the award of an engineering degree. And they must be taken in order."

"I understand that," I said. "I talked to Dan about the whole process. He told me about the math and the engineering courses."

"Math won't be there for you, Cindy. I think our math department associates have just about determined that from Tuesday. They will tell you formally Friday morning. And you know about language and literature, although our friends from yesterday are almost pining to get you into their classes."

"I think ... I'd LOVE to take the classes, though."

"So take them, then, Cindy. Sit in, audit the classes. Do you know how many students would die to trade places with you? Cindy, you have a rare opportunity if you choose to take it. You don't have to go to a lot of classes. You can choose which ones interest you. And I think that you should think about that."

"That's an exciting idea, Mizz Patel," I said. It was. I hadn't thought about being able to audit classes. I have heard the term. I need to ask Dan how that works.

We walked into a nicely-appointed office.

"We're here to see Doctor Stanton. He is expecting Mizz Cindy Smith-Richards."

The receptionist smiled. "He's expecting Mizz Richards. I don't think he was expecting her to look like this."

I wasn't dressed for a formal occasion. I did have on a new pair of jeans and a neat blouse instead of my normal sweatshirt or T-shirt. "Am I improperly dressed?" I asked.

"Oh, no, honey, you're quite properly dressed. You're just ... stunning!"

"Oh, thanks!" I said.

"But you LOOK young."

"Fourteen," I answered. "And a half."

"Oh, you're precious," she said.

"Thank you," I said again.

A greying head peered around the corner. "Connie, is that Mizz Cindy?"

"Yes it is. Come out here, Harold. You need to see her."

He did. "They warned me. Mizz Patel, you didn't use enough words."

"Sorry, Harold," she said. "I have several people on my agenda. Of course, Cindy IS the youngest."

"Miss Cindy, If you would come into my office?"

I followed him in.

"Close the door, please, so we can talk."

I closed the door and sat down in the chair he pointed to.

"Let's talk about you, Cindy."

"Yessir," I said. I wanted him to point out the direction this conversation should go.

"How do you feel about your success at school this year?"

Okay, THAT'S what he wants. I can do that. So I did.

He asked questions. "Why didn't you feel compelled to work harder before this year?"

I explained.

"How do you cope with your classmates when they find out about your new-found abilities?"

I explained the negative comments and the positive comments. "Gosh, Doctor Stanton..."

"Harold, please," he interrupted.

"I had so many big changes this year, especially last fall. School. Getting married."

"About that," he interrupted.

"Oh, I know how I'm supposed to be this exploited little thing from an Alabama trailer park," I said. "But I do NOT consider myself exploited. Exploited girls do not have their husbands drive them to Auburn University, nor teach them to fly or sing or listen to classical music. My husband is perhaps one of the poorest exploiters of young ladies imaginable."

His expression was inscrutable, so I continued. "I think that maturity occurs in any of several arenas. Physically, I am not full-grown, but I am inside the normal range for my age. Mentally? That sort of explains why you and I are having this conversation. Emotionally." I took a breath. "I know something about emotional maturity. I know people who lack measurable emotional maturity in their thirties. Unfortunately my Mom is one of those. I consider myself to be at the other end of the spectrum. I don't get giggly with every boy that smiles at me in school. I know about marriage in the historical context and the Christian context and I and my husband have THAT commitment to one another."

"Okay, Mizz Cindy," he said. "I asked. You explained."

"I'm sorry if I came off as harsh, Mister Harold. I don't mean to be, but I absolutely LOVE Dan. He's bled, really bled, for me. Treats me like a princess when it's time for me to be a princess, and like a friend, and a co-worker, and a wife. We are friends with traditional families as well as some remarkably parallel couples. If you want to watch, three other girls will be joining Auburn in the fall. I call them 'sisters' because we're so much alike in intelligence and family."

"You sound secure and assured in your relationship," he said.

"I am. I have a husband who provides for me, protects me, and lets me see where I can go with my own talents and abilities. And here I am."

"So how did you get here? Academically?"

"Dan, my husband, started this. He's an engineer. I was looking for somebody who might help me with school. He says he kicked the chocks out and I took off."

"'Kicked the chocks out'? I don't think I'm familiar with that phrase."

I giggled. "Another of the abuses I endure is flying. When you desire a plane to remain stationary, you put chocks on both sides of the wheels. Before planes had brakes, a pilot might run his engine up to full power, letting the chocks keep him from rolling, and the ground crew would kick the chocks loose to let him go."

"I get it," Harold said.

"Well, that was ONE thing. The other is that based on some tests, my guidance counselor selected me for further testing. I did well. People started looking. I paid attention in class and outran my teachers. They started using me as an aide, especially in math. The school board reviewed my case and selected me to jump straight to high school graduation. That's next week. I got the highest score in the county on my ACT. I have my own corner in the library for kids who have problems with math and who WANT to do something about it."

"Tell me about your relationships with other students."

That was easy. This year I had friends. I told him about my sisters and Kayla and the kids in middle school and about me and Kaitlyn and Cameron at high school. I talked about helping kids and how many of them really connected with me. And Teresa and me singing duets.

"You sound happy and well-adjusted."

"You know, Mister Harold, sometimes I think that I really shouldn't be. How many kids in circumstances like mine for a home life just trudge right on out doing the same things? Drugs? Sex? Pregnancy? Dropping out of school? I know about all of those things. I lived with a lot of 'em. I just couldn't be like that."

"And you and your husband?"

"One of the most honorable men I ever met. Just wanted to help me. Then we started talking about marriage. My mom left the state, signed me over to Mizz Helen, my foster mom. The judge that signed the custody papers is the same one who listened to our case and signed papers so we could get married, me being a minor and all."

"Mizz Cindy, let me tell you what I see sitting here," he said. He looked serious.

I was a little bit concerned with the look on his face. I didn't know it was his 'business face'. "Yessir," I said. "I'm interested in what you think."

"I think I see a very calm, intelligent, happy, and most of all, for her age, incredibly mature, young lady."

"Thank you," I said. I guess my smile came back out.

"Yes, you should smile, Cindy. This is one of the things I do for Auburn, work with 'gifted' students. I don't know if you're the most intelligent, but you're certainly one of the most well-adjusted. If your file didn't contain things about your test scores and academic acumen, I'd think you were just a good, normal middle-schooler." He sighed. "But you spent quite a few words about your being married and your home life. If I would have looked at those without talking to you, I would have thought, as you said, 'exploited little thing'. But on that subject, if I take away the 'she's fourteen' aspect, I hear a young wife who finds herself married to the man she thinks is her perfect mate."

"He is," I said. "Come with us for lunch. He doesn't meet strangers. You'll see."

"I'll do that." He patted his round belly. "If we can find a place that does a salad."

"Oh, not in a college town," I giggled.

"So," he continued, "I wasn't here today to say yea or nay to your coming to Auburn. I am here to let the faculty know what kind of mess we're getting into. I'm thinking they need to worry about something else."

"Then I passed?"

"No pass or fail here, Cindy. Just observation. But If I had to grade, you passed, okay?"

Friday morning I showed up at Mizz Patel's office, this time with Dan, per her request. She greeted us and led us to a conference room, by way of the coffee machine. When we entered the conference room my whole week's effort was there, Bren and Ram, Doctors Anders and Singleton, and Doctor Stanton.

I gave a little wave. "Hi, nice people," I said. I followed Dan around, shaking hands.

"Let us sit down," Mizz Patel said. "And talk about Cindy."

Below the table, I squeezed Dan's hand. I was nervous. Why was I nervous? I had an interesting time this week.

"Cindy," Mizz Patel said, "each of these groups will give you their assessment, starting with Doctors Wilkins and Ramathani. Gentlemen?"

Doctor Wilkins, Bren, stood up. "Cindy," he said, " the other day, during our Skype session, I said that you had some non-standard ways of approaching problems. Doctor Ram asked me what I meant by that when we talked about you last week. Now he knows. I only wish I could have had you to work with for four years of college. As it is, from the standpoint of Auburn's math department, you have completed coursework sufficient for your chosen goal of electrical engineering. If you wish to pursue further interests in the area of mathematics, we will be happy to bring you in at the senior level in pure math. You do have some holes in your math knowledge, but I attribute them to the evolutionary methodology we use for teaching the subject. Like you said, "1+1=2" on up. You almost appear to have been created at a high level of mathematical understanding. Since I don't want to get into that 'creation versus evolution' debate, I will end my statement here. Welcome to Auburn."

I couldn't stifle it. I let out a little squeal.

Doctor Singleton stood next. Noting my squeal, she started. "Cindy, I'd be surprised if that's all you have to say about the subject. My colleague and I found your writing to be insightful and mature and having a technical merit far above what we would expect from a freshman. Sadly, it's better than we expect from many seniors. Miss Cindy, we see no problem in signing off on completion for all the English courses that may be prerequisite for your engineering degree. You would be advised to freshen up on technical writing, but it appears that your husband had done well as your tutor thus far."

Doctor Stanton didn't stand. "Don't look at me. After yesterday's session, I claim the presidency of the Cindy Smith-Richards Fan Club."

Mizz Patel stood again. "It falls upon me to represent the Auburn School of Engineering in the matter of Mizz Cindy. I personally don't know what a sixteen-year-old graduate from the School of Engineering might do with her new degree, but I suspect that her husband's new engineering house opening up in this city might give answer to some of those questions. Mizz Cindy, Mister Richards ... Dan, Cindy MUST complete the engineering coursework for us to award the degree. It normally takes four years, eight semesters." She smiled. At ME! "However, there is nothing we see that is normal with our Cindy. Cindy, when you complete the courses, you will graduate. I will confer with the professors who administer those courses and see if perhaps we might be able to accelerate your work."

I let out another little squeal. I looked at Dan. He hadn't had a look like that since he found out that we could be married. I remember him being particularly happy at THAT revelation.

"Excuse me," he said, "You folks are telling us that Cindy could be graduating in TWO YEARS? TWO?"

"Yes, Dan," Mizz Patel said softly. "Very doable for Cindy. And the physics department would like to talk with her. They said they regret not knowing she'd be here this week, but could you please give them a call sometime this summer?"