At that moment. Mirabe hadpleted the application form and stood up, walking towards the Dean of Prestige College. With a polite nod, she handed over the form.
The Dean of Prestige College had barely extended his hand to receive the form when physics professor swooped in and grabbed it first, prompting a puzzled nce from the dean.
The physics professor only skimmed the form, but his focus sharpened when he saw the intended major section. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he <b>noted </b>that the youngdy. had chosen the biology department. He felt his blood pressure surge as if he were experiencing an invisible storm.
Lifting his gaze to meet Mirabe’s, he questioned with a tinge <b>of </b>agitation, “Your physics grades are ster. Why aren’t you considering physics as your major?”
“I have a bit more interest in biological research.” Mirabe replied after a moment’s contemtion.
“What’s so great about biology? I think you’re cut out for physics. Change it. Don’t waste such a talent,” the professor urged, pointing to the relevant section on the form with a look of heartfelt
distress.
Mirabe touched the tip of her nose, wondering if it was even possible to bepelled to change her major on the spot. This was the esteemed physics professor that Matthew had spoken of with such respect. Would he take offense if she rejected his advice?
Seeking an ally, Mirabe turned to Mr. Hammond, who was standing nearby.
Mr. Hammond, having witnessed the exchange, cleared his throat and deftly retrieved the application form from the professor’s hands. He then handed it back to the Dean of Prestige College, saying, “Choosing a major should really be about the student’s personal interests. Besides, Wade has also expressed interest in having Mirabe join his department. We shouldn’t force her hand.”
Suddenly recalling a recent event, the physics professor blurted out, “That exins why Wade rushed to drag me away at lunch. He was nning this all along!” He realized that there had been an intentional effort to keep him in the dark about the youngdy’s impressive scores, to poach her for the biology department.
Cunning move!
Mr. Hammond, not quite following, looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”
The professorughed bitterly and didn’t borate; instead, he muttered, “Such shameless tactics, leading the young astray, tsk!”
He took a deep breath and turned back to Mirabe, speaking earnestly, “Kid, there’s no rush to pick a major. You’ve still got the better part of a year before your finals. Think it over, but don’t squander your gift.”
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<li>10<b>. </b></li>
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Mirabe felt a disconnect between the kind–looking professor before her and Matthew’s description of him.
After a pause, the professor pulled out his phone and said, “You have Messenger, right? Add me. If you ever have questions about physics, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
And so, Mirabe’s phone contacts expanded to include another mentor eager to teach her–a chef, a pharmacist, and now, a physicist.
Shortly thereafter, the physics professor excused himself due to othermitments. Before he left, he made a point to remind Mirabe to reach out to him online with any questions, to which she could only manage a polite nod and a couple of half–hearted “sure” responses.
Once the professor had departed, the Dean of Prestige College filed Mirabe’s paperwork. He retrieved a trophy and a certificate of honor from a cab, both prepared in anticipation of her visit.
“Congrattions,” he said, handing her the awards.
Mirabe epted the trophy and certificate with a gracious “thank you,” her eyes finally settling on the certificate. National Champion, it read, with her score of 200 points printed below.
A perfect score, once again.
Alright, it seemed there were still shortcuts to sess.
Soon after, Mirabe and Mr. Hammond left the hallowed halls of Prestige College.
As they walked, Mr. Hammond spoke with newfound anticipation in his voice, “Next up is the internationalpetition.”