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“And then?"
"And then," said Poirot. "We will talk! Je vous assure, Hastings - there is nothing so dangerous for anyone who has something to hide as conversation! Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is
"Hey, how d'you pronounce this word?"
Norma folded the page on her copy of Poirot's Finest Cases vol. 1, and turned to look at Razputin over the back of the sofa. "Placebo," she read out loud from the line he was pointing to. "You didn't know?"
"I've only ever read most of these words in books." He turned the homework sheet back to him with a frown. "Placebo," he repeated. "Huh. Would not have been my first guess."
That didn't surprise her. Razputin's body of knowledge was like someone had laid out an entire curriculum, from kindergarten to college-level psychology, and taken potshots at it with a sawn-off. He could quote passages from Freud and Goethe, and he also thought that the sun was a planet and snakes were the larval form of lizards. Hollis had sought to remedy this by rounding out his psychic curriculum with various mundane subjects. It made for a funny sight - the rest of them would be working through problems involving advanced clairvoyance or the finer points of invisibility while Razputin sat writing a fourth-grade history report.
"Bet you never thought being a secret agent would involve so much homework, huh?" she said, and Razputin groaned.
"Tell me about it," he said, flipping through his sheets. "Since we were on mission all last week, Hollis has given me loads to catch up on. I gotta do biology, geography, and…"
He trailed off with a frown. Norma craned her neck to see the sheet that he was holding.
"Mathematics?"
"Yeah," Razputin said slowly. "Maybe, uh… maybe I'll do that one later." He shuffled the sheets together awkwardly, and shoved them back in his backpack.
What he needed, Norma decided, was a little academic motivation. "Well, remember," she said brightly, "you might rue it now but it'll all pay off in the end. There's no substitute for hard work, Razputin!"
Razputin flinched, and gave her a strange look. "Uh. Right. Yeah." He paused, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and then turned. "Um, I gotta go."
He scurried off, and Norma watched him go with a raised eyebrow. How peculiar. But then, he was, by all measures, a rather peculiar kid.
With a shrug, she returned to her novel. She'd read this story countless times before, but watching the impeccably-choreographed twists and turns play out was still compelling. There was nothing like a good mystery.
"What do you expect Cust to tell you?"
Hercule Poirot smiled.
"A lie," he said. "And by it, I shall know the truth!”
There were three key components to any case. The culprit, the motive and the method.
"Gisu's been acting strange lately," Norma said airily, by way of conversation.
Lizzie blew on her nails. "Well, yeah," she said, tilting Norma's hand to and fro under the light to check the polish had been evenly applied. "She's gone all boy-crazy over Raz's airhead brother."
"Hmm," said Norma - because that much was true, she'd overheard enough of their awkward flirting to be sure of that - but it was also not what she meant. She’d seen Gisu head-over-heels like this before, and was well acquainted with all the silliness that came with it. But the past week or two had been something different.
“Wait, wait, did I tell you she brought him to the dorms a few weeks ago?” Lizzie barked a laugh. “It was hi-larious. He kept, like, looking around for something, and when Gisu asked him what he was trying to find he said, ‘oh, just your spawning pool’.”
“Was he serious?”
“Oh, yeah, a hundred percent. I think Gisu was hoping to make out with him or something, but he was just way too on edge,” Lizzie chuckled. “Plus, I think he’s pretty much convinced that I’m, like, an actual vampire. Which is amazing, obviously.”
“No doubt you’re already plotting ways to mess with him,” Norma said, and Lizzie shrugged.
“I mean, c’mon. It’s a goldmine.”
Norma huffed in wry amusement, but the smile quickly faded from her face. She couldn’t help but think back to their own brief fling. She’d dated Gisu for all of two and a half weeks before a messy argument had made them both realise it wasn’t really working. It had just been too draining for both of them - and besides, Norma had told herself at the time, she had her studies to focus on. If Gisu had moved on to soliciting ditzy pretty boys now, well, Norma couldn’t really blame her.
"I just feel like she’s been in kind of a sour mood lately," she said. "She's stopped leaving all of her notes out in the common room."
Lizzie snorted. "Maybe she's been writing love poems on 'em. Other hand."
"And she's been keeping to herself way more," Norma said, giving Lizzie her left hand and being mindful of the drying nail polish on her right. "You know, Morris was saying she didn't even want to watch the midweek pre-results show for Pop Gladiator with him."
"Nothing even happens in the midweek shows, though. It's just interviews and clip reels."
"And Gisu eats it up!" Norma gestured. "I'm telling you, something's up with her."
"So, what? You gonna stalk her dad?" Lizzie raised an eyebrow.
Norma paused. "No," she said slowly. "I'm done with the whole spying thing. Even I can admit, that was weird."
"Super weird."
"But I am going to get to the bottom of this."
A frown settled on Lizzie's face. She swirled the brush around the bottle of nail polish for a few beats, seemingly trying to figure out what to say. But she didn't manage to find it, in the end, and instead finished painting Norma's nails in silence.
"There you go," she said eventually. "Won't take long to dry, so just give 'em a few minutes."
Norma studied her hands. Lizzie had chosen a burnished copper colour that blazed glittering orange where it caught the light.
"They look nice," she said. "Thanks."
Lizzie gave her a grin. "Any time."
There was a moment in any good mystery where an opportunity suddenly presented itself. A golden moment that winked into being, with the promise that - if one were to grab it - the break in the case would be sure to follow.
The perfect opportunity fell into Norma's lap in the form of Sam, running her mouth idly while Norma dithered in front of an Otto-Matic.
"When you think about it," Sam said, "telekinesis and levitation are really the same thing."
Norma turned from the selection of pins on display to stare at her, open-mouthed. That had been such an astounding, fundamental misunderstanding of the theoretical nature of those powers that she was honestly gobsmacked. A few seconds of silence passed between them, broken only by the idle chatter of the Motherlobe atrium.
Norma finally found her tongue, and delivered as cutting a retort as she could muster.
"What?"
"Telekinesis makes thing go up," Sam said. "Levitation makes thing go up. Think about it. They're the same."
"No," Norma said. "No, I - what? That's not even remotely correct."
Sam folded her arms. "Telekinesis is just levitating stuff that's not yourself. Prove me wrong."
Norma spluttered. Her memory recall shifted into overdrive, scouring for every single piece of information she knew about telekinesis in preparation for correcting this outrageous, nay, grievous oversight. She was fully ready to deploy argument mode when it suddenly hit her that this was an opportunity.
A wide smile slowly broke over her face.
"That's a good point," she said. "You know what, Sam, that's a very good point indeed."
"Oh," said Sam. "You really think so? I was kind of just talking crap."
"In fact," Norma continued, giddy at a plan coming together, "it's really made me rethink my stance. We're going to need expert testimony to sort this one out. I'll go ask one of our resident levitators about it."
Sam blinked. "Cool. You do that. I'm gonna buy a lollipop."
Norma strode down the corridors, buoyed by a renewed sense of purpose. This was perfect! She could pin Gisu down, get her talking, and finally get to the bottom of whatever was going on here.
She rounded the corner, and suddenly Razputin was there, seeming as engrossed in his thoughts as she was. They would have collided if he hadn't looked up at the last second and thrown himself into a roll to the side.
"Whoah!" he said, brushing himself down. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"I'm looking for Gisu. Have you seen her?"
Razputin narrowed his eyes. "She's in her dorm room," he said, slowly. "Why?"
"I just told you, I'm looking for her."
"Why are you looking for her?"
Norma raised an eyebrow. "What about you, hmm?" she said, nodding to the tumbler in his hand. "Don't tell me you're getting coffee."
"I might be."
"You don't even drink coffee."
"How do you know?" Razputin squinted at her. "Maybe I do. I have a sophisticated palate, y'know."
"Whatever," Norma said. "Just so you know, it's totally suspicious."
"Like you're one to talk," Razputin muttered. He brought out his lev-ball, and with a leap he was bounding off down the corridor.
Norma watched him go. Something about that conversation had put up a flag in her mind, but as she headed on to the dorms she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
Gisu's door was half-open. Norma knocked, mostly for the sake of politeness, and sidled in.
"Gisu. Help me solve an argument."
Gisu was at her desk, amidst an intricate web of clutter. She looked up from her soldering with as flat a stare as she could manage.
Norma, not at all cowed, stared right back.
"Whatever it is, I don't care," Gisu said.
Something had put her in a particularly foul mood. Pretending not to have noticed, Norma flounced into the room, leaning nonchalantly against the desk. "That's good. We need an impartial arbiter."
Gisu spent several long seconds continuing to stare, apparently hoping that she could convince Norma to give it up. When it didn’t work, she leant back in her chair with a groan. "Ugh, fine. What do you want?"
Norma clasped her hands together. "Well! I was talking with our good classmate Sam, and Sam thinks levitation should be classed as a branch of telekinesis," she said.
"Uh-huh," said Gisu.
"Now, I think that's ridiculous." As she spoke, Norma took the chance to furtively glance around the room. She couldn't see anything obviously amiss - but between Gisu's organised chaos and her sister's outright mess, the place was so cluttered it wasn't easy to say one way or another. "But, well, I’m not an expert. So I thought we should get input from someone more…"
She trailed off. Something had caught her eye on the desk. "This isn't your handwriting," she said abruptly.
Gisu's eyes widened. She lunged for the sheet of paper, but she was just a fraction of a second too late. Norma yanked it through her grasping fingertips to hold it close to her nose.
It was a homework sheet. A math homework sheet, with Razputin’s name handwritten at the top, and the answers scribbled in Gisu’s writing on an attached post-it note. And something else suddenly occurred to her - the tumbler she’d seen him carrying in the corridor was one that belonged to Gisu.
“Oh,” she said, as things clicked into place. “You’ve been doing Razputin’s math homework for him.”
Gisu scowled, pressing her knuckles against her temple. "Great. Here we go."
Norma lowered the sheet. “Am I wrong?” she said.
Gisu gave a long sigh through her nose. “No,” she said. “OK. Fine. You got me.”
Norma supposed she should have felt some sense of satisfaction. She’d known Gisu was hiding something, and here it was. Mystery solved. But something about it didn’t quite sit right with her.
“Why?” she asked, and Gisu shrugged.
“He pays me in coffee and peanut caramel bars.”
“No, I mean - why? Why’s he cheating on his homework in the first place?” Norma crossed her arms, tapping her thumb against her lips. “It seems out of character for him.”
Gisu shrugged again. “Dunno. Think he finds it pretty difficult.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” Norma went to chew on her nail. The flash of bronze polish stopped her, and instead she adjusted her glasses with a frown. “Have you asked him about it?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“But don’t you think-”
Gisu stood, suddenly, scraping her chair back from the desk. Norma startled as she slammed her hands on the desk.
“No,” she said sharply. “I don’t think. Because I don’t do this, okay? I don’t get messed up in this kind of thing.”
Norma bristled. “Why? Because you don’t care?”
“Sure I care. Enough to leave well enough alone. Not like you.” Gisu paced, gesturing. “Sticking your nose into everything. ‘Helping’ people who never asked for it in the first place. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, Raz doesn’t want you messing around in his business?”
Norma leaned back as Gisu got right up in her chest. “You seem awfully confident in that hypothesis.”
Gisu jerked her thumb. “He came to me for help.”
“Yeah,” Norma said, eyes narrow. “You’re doing a great job of it so far.”
Gisu glowered. She turned on her heel, stalking away across the room. “I’m just so sick of this,” she grumbled. “You always do this. What now, huh? You gonna blab to Hollis?”
Norma’s arms were stiff by her sides. “No! But we need to get him to talk to her about-”
“We don’t need to do anything, Norma!” Gisu threw her hands up. “It just always comes back to what you think is best, doesn’t it?!”
“I don’t know why I expected anything different from you,” Norma shot back. “If you’re not going to do the right thing, then I will!”
There was a clatter from behind them.
Norma turned to see Razputin in the doorway. The tumbler of coffee had slipped from his fingers, spilling its contents out onto the worn salmon carpet. He looked between them with an expression of absolute betrayal. His bottom lip trembled. Then he spun, bolting away down the corridor.
Gisu slumped into her chair, and leant forward until her forehead was pressed against the table. "Great," she said. "Just great."
Norma stared at the spot Razputin had been for a few seconds. Then she started forward out the door.
"Gonna go rat us out?" Gisu called after her.
Norma turned in the doorway. "No," she said. "I'm going to fix this."
Razputin was a surprisingly hard kid to track down. He'd fled the dorms completely, and he wasn't in the classroom or the cafeteria. She considered asking if anyone had seen where he went, but she was pretty sure he could sneak around through the tubes of the Otto-B.O.N. - he could have gone from one end of HQ to the other, sight unseen.
Luckily, Norma had a hunch, and it turned out to be right on the money.
"I knew… I'd find you… up here," she wheezed. She'd been workshopping the line on the way up, but the effect was kind of undercut by the fact that she was completely out of breath. The access hatch to the roof of the Motherlobe was up many, many flights of stairs. She was amazed Razputin had had it in him to climb them all with his little legs. Then again, knowing him, Norma half-expected he might have just scaled the outside of the building with his bare hands instead.
Razputin didn't turn from where he was hunched over on the roof, looking out at the quarry. Norma took a moment to catch her breath. Then she stepped forward, careful to watch her footing - hesitated briefly, then lowered herself to sit down next to him.
“So,” she started. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened back there.”
Razputin mumbled something inaudible. His goggles were pulled over his eyes, but it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t happy.
Norma frowned. “Pardon?”
“I said, ‘I bet you’re happy’.” Razputin sniffed, his mouth pulling down into a scowl. “You found something I’m bad at. I bet you can’t wait to make fun of me for it.”
The words were like a punch to the gut. Norma had been preparing a retort, but it died on her tongue. For a few seconds, she could do nothing but stare.
“Is that… really what you think of me?” she said eventually.
Razputin looked away.
Norma cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, “that’s - let’s just ignore that and move on. I, um…”
She’d had a script for this prepared, but now she’d been thrown completely off-course, and improvisation was not her strong suit. She turned her hands over in her lap while she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. “We’ve been teammates for a while, now,” she continued haltingly. “We might not have gotten off on the best foot. And, I know you probably think that I’m - well, I know sometimes I can be a little -”
“Is this going anywhere?” Razputin cut in. “Geez, Norma. Just insult me or whatever and we can get this over with.”
Norma flinched away as he suddenly rose to his feet, pulling up his goggles to angrily scrub at his eyes. They were puffy and red-rimmed underneath.
Norma winced. "Well," she said, "I - I mean, that's - it's not -"
"Go ahead, say it! You think I’m stupid for not being able to do the homework!" Raz cried, waving his arms. “I don’t even care! It'd be better than - than this."
"Than what? You're not making any sense!"
"Than you looking at me like that!" Razputins's eyes were watering again, and it seemed to just be making him angrier. "Like you feel sorry for me, or something!” He clenched his fists. “Stop it already! I hate it!”
“I’m trying to help-”
“Well maybe I don’t want your help!”
“Fine, then!" Norma snapped. She could feel her temper rising, and against her better judgement she let it, because being angry was easier than feeling guilty - easier than nursing remorse over one more bridge burned. "So talk to Hollis or someone instead! Anyone who would clearly do a better job than I would.”
"Like I need to tell Hollis," Razputin muttered darkly. "Bet she already knows. Bet you went and told her."
Norma pinched her brow. "Ok, look, I know the things you overheard might have -”
"What's my punishment? Lemme guess. Detention? More homework? Or she's -" Razputin's face suddenly fell. "She's gonna kick me out. She's kicking me out, and she sent you to tell me that I-"
"Oh my god, shut up! I haven't told Hollis yet, okay?!"
Razputin blinked. His face twitched, like he was between emotions and didn't know the right expression to settle on. “You - you haven't?”
Norma sighed. “No, Rusty. I haven’t.”
“How come?”
“Because I - because-!”
Ugh, what was she even supposed to say? Because how I acted to you before was terrible? Because I’m ashamed that I felt so threatened by a ten year old that I tried to spy on his family? Because I don’t think I’m a good person, but I want to be, and maybe this is the first step if I could just stop being so emotionally constipated and putting my foot in my mouth for even a second to tell you -
Razputin had gone very quiet. He was staring at her with kind of a strange expression.
It suddenly occurred to Norma that she’d never been able to get her hands on Razputin’s file. She still didn’t know all of his abilities, and he kept pulling out crazy new powers on missions with no prior warning. So it was possible that - no, even likely, given her luck -
Blink twice if you’re a telepath.
Razputin looked awkwardly at his feet. Then he met Norma’s gaze, and blinked. Twice.
Shit.
“Language,” Razputin said hoarsely.
Norma gave a laugh. She felt slightly hysterical. "Of course you are," she said. "Of course. Why am I even surprised, at this point."
Razputin said nothing.
Norma wasn't feeling particularly inclined to break the silence, either. They both stared uncomfortably out at the horizon, as if trying to fool a passer-by into thinking they'd come up here for nothing more than a spot of birdwatching. Norma was getting carried away with an inner monologue about geese when she realised that Razputin could probably hear that, too, and then she tried very hard to think of nothing at all.
Eventually, she cleared her throat. 'But, uh, yeah. You should talk to Hollis about the whole homework thing. Whatever’s going on, she'll - she’ll be able to help."
Razputin frowned. Then he drew himself up, and squared his shoulders. "You're right."
Norma blinked. "Oh, sorry? One more time?" she said teasingly.
Razputin didn't even take the bait. "You're right," he said again. "I do need to talk to Hollis about it. That's what I should have done from the start." He took a deep breath. "It's okay to ask for help if I'm having problems, but not like this. If I keep running from it, I'll never be able to fix anything."
Norma tipped her head appraisingly. "Huh. You know, that's surprisingly mature of you."
Razputin stuck out his chest. "I am mature," he said.
"Really,” Norma replied. That's why you broke into summer camp dressed like your favourite comic book character?"
"The resemblance is totally coincidental."
"Aren't you literally wearing his-"
"No, also, shut up."
"You shut up."
"You shut up infinity."
He was pulling out the big guns. Norma drew back. "Very well,” she said. “You win this round. But know that your victory is only a temporary reprieve."
Razputin cocked his head, a hint of a smile on his cheeks. "You're the older one out of you and Lizzie, right?" he said.
"Correct."
Razputin nodded. "That figures."
Norma got to her feet, wincing as her back cracked. “Well, if we want to catch Hollis before the end of the day we’d better get a move on.”
Razputin watched in disbelief as she went for the access hatch. “Wait, you’re taking the stairs?”
“Levitating gives me vertigo,” Norma said, a little snippily. “You know that.”
"Sure, sure. Well, I'll meet you down there." Razputin grinned. "I know a shortcut."
It said something to how desensitized Norma had become to his nonsense that she didn't even react as he backflipped off the roof of the Motherlobe. She just sighed, and turned to head back down the stairs.
Gisu, to her surprise, was waiting for her at the bottom. She shuffled her feet as Norma came into view.
“Uh, hey.”
Norma looked her up and down. “Let me guess,” she said. “You thought you didn’t care, but the guilt has been eating you alive for the past week and you’ve finally realised that the only way to fix it is to come clean.”
Gisu gave her a withering look. “Let’s just go,” she said, heading off down the corridor.
Norma didn’t respond - just followed with a hint of a smile on her face.
“Agent Forsythe? Are you free for a minute?”
Hollis didn’t look up from her paperwork. “Nerumen,” she replied. “I can be.”
Norma elbowed Gisu, and Gisu nudged Razputin towards the doorway. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward, hands curling into determined fists at his sides.
“Agent Forsythe,” he said, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
That got Hollis to glance up. Her eyes flickered between the three of them, but her expression didn’t give anything away. Then she gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “Well, then, you’d all better take a seat.”
Gisu gently laid a hand on Razputin’s shoulder as they all stepped into the office. Hollis watched as they sat down. She gestured, and the doors slid shut. Then she leant back, steepling her hands, and nodded for them to continue.
Razputin shuffled in his chair, brow furrowed and leg bouncing a nervous rhythm. Norma wasn’t sure whether he was psyching himself up, or if he’d gotten completely tongue-tied. She was about to say something when suddenly he blurted, “Gisu’s been doing all my math homework.”
Hollis blinked. Her eyes silently moved to Gisu.
Gisu rubbed the back of her neck. “Uh. Yeah. I have.”
Hollis’ eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. She didn’t say anything - just kept her gaze fixed on Gisu in a way that reminded Norma of an insect pinned on a corkboard. Gisu squirmed, glancing back at her, and Norma only tilted her head in response.
"And your part in this, Natividad?"
"I caught them in the act. But on reflection, I thought it would be more… productive to give them a chance to explain themselves first," Norma said. It was a convenient version of the story that omitted the conversations she’d awkwardly blundered into with the both of them. Thankfully, Hollis seemed to buy it.
"Well," she said. "Then you'd better explain yourselves."
The two of them fidgeted for a second before Gisu raised her hand. “He bribed me with candy bars.”
Hollis’ head snapped round. “Is that the opening statement you want to go with, Nerumen?” she said sharply. “Because as things stand, it paints you in a very unflattering light.”
Gisu lowered her hand back into her lap, lips pressed shut.
“It was -” Razputin grimaced. “It was my idea. I asked her to do it, so…” He trailed off as Hollis turned back to him.
“And why did you ask Nerumen to do your homework?”
Razputin hugged his elbows. “It's really dumb. You - promise you won't laugh, ok?"
Hollis inclined her head. "I won't laugh," she said gently. "I promise."
Razputin took a deep breath. "I was worried you'd think I was too stupid to be a Psychonaut and you'd kick me out because I couldn't do the homework on my own," he said, the words tumbling over each other in a rush.
Gisu cleared her throat. "Wow. Uh, I don't wanna say it, but… yeah. That is kind of dumb."
"I know, but I - but - argh!" Razputin doubled over, clutching at his helmet. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it! And then it made me think about other stuff, like - like how maybe I didn't deserve to be here, after all! Maybe I don't have what it takes, and I just got lucky, but soon everyone's gonna find out and I'll have to go home!" He shook his head, like he could somehow dislodge the distressing thoughts. "And I know it's not real, but sometimes my brain just won't shut up about it and I, I… I didn't want to find out if maybe it was true."
He curled up in the chair with a morose sigh. Next to him, Gisu hesitated for a moment. Then she patted his shoulder.
"Ok, this is way more serious than I thought. We shoulda talked to Hollis weeks ago," she said. "'Cause, uh, yikes. I thought my imposter syndrome was bad.”
Razputin’s face was hidden in his arms, but he shifted to look at Gisu out of the corner of his eye. "You mean… you feel like that too?" he mumbled into his sleeve.
"Are you kidding me? All. The. Time." Gisu leant back, ticking off on her fingers. "I slack off too much. I don't work hard enough. I'm not as smart as I think I am. I'm not as smart as everyone else thinks I am, and some day I'm just gonna let them all-"
She startled as Razputin grabbed her wrist, staring at her with a surprising intensity. "That's not true," he said earnestly. "None of that stuff is true, Gisu. You know that, right?"
Gisu snorted. "You goober," she said. "I know. But that’s real sweet."
Hollis watched him for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. “I think I see what's going on here. Let me first make one thing very clear. You are not going to be kicked out of the Psychonauts over maths homework. Okay?"
Razputin nodded. "Are you disappointed?" he mumbled.
"I am. But it’s not because you were having difficulty with the homework, Razputin. It’s because you didn’t talk to me about it first.”
She rose from her chair, moving around her desk with her hands folded behind her back. “You've never experienced a traditional academic setting. In light of that, maybe I should have explained this at the start. Do you know why I’ve been giving you homework?”
Mutely, Razputin shook his head.
Gisu leant in. "Cruel and unusual punishment?" she said in a stage whisper. Hollis raised an eyebrow, but Razputin did, at least, crack a smile at that.
"Nothing so dramatic," Hollis said. "And it's not to test you, either. It's so that I can see what level you’re at, to help me properly tailor my lessons." She gestured, pacing smoothly around the room. "You can’t treat a patient without a proper diagnosis, after all. If you couldn’t do the homework, it only means that I was starting the lessons at a level that was too advanced."
She turned, and moved to kneel next to Razputin’s chair, lowering herself to his eye level. "Could you look at me, Razputin?" she said gently. "I want to make sure you understand this next part."
Shyly, Razputin's gaze rose from the floor to hover around Hollis' chin.
"Myself and the rest of the staff - we’re all here to help you,” Hollis said. “But in return, we need you to help us. To tell us when you’re struggling; to trust us enough to give you that help when you need it. There’s no shame in failure, you know. There aren’t any hidden tests you have to pass or bars you have to clear. The only thing we ask from you here is your best. All right?"
Razputin sniffed. For a second, his bottom lip wobbled; then he took a deep breath, and his expression firmed up as he nodded. "I understand, Agent Forsythe."
Hollis smiled. "That’s good. Do you want to talk about the problems you had with the homework?"
Razputin nodded slowly. "I… I tried," he said haltingly. "I promise, I really tried. I just couldn't do it."
He wrung his hands in his lap. Hollis leant back patiently as he figured out what he wanted to say.
"Mom and Dad taught me a little math. But I've always found it so… it doesn't make sense. Even the stuff that my little sister can do easily, adding and subtracting, I - I don't get it." It was like a dam had been breached, the words slowly picking up speed as he went. "I just can't do it! I know how, I do, but then I sit down and look at the page and, and the numbers won't stay still and they won't make sense and I just - I just can't!"
Hollis was silent for a moment as Razputin caught his breath. She seemed to be turning something over in her mind. Then she said, "have you ever been tested for dyscalculia, Razputin?"
Razputin blinked, apparently thrown off-balance by the question. "I, uh, I'm not - I don't think so? But I've had all my shots, I-"
"Dyscalculia," Hollis said again, slowly and clearly. "It's a learning disability related to math and arithmetic, similar to how dyslexia is for reading comprehension. Individuals with dyscalculia will often struggle with learning math, because their brains have trouble understanding numbers."
Norma didn't miss how Razputin flinched at the word 'disability'. But his eyes slowly widened as Hollis spoke.
"I - I've heard of dyslexia," he said slowly. "It's caused by structural differences in the brain. It was named more than a century ago, but for a long time it was misattributed to students just being lazy or bad at school." He looked up at Hollis. "There's… something like that for math, too?"
Hollis nodded. "It's fairly common."
Razputin blinked. "Oh," he said. "So… so it's just a brain thing." His brow slowly unfurrowed as he spoke, the revelation settling over him. "I'm not stupid for not being good at math, it's just a brain thing."
"It's only my suspicions, of course,” Hollis added. “We'd need to have you properly assessed to be sure. But whatever the case, I want to emphasize this." She gave a smile. "Being bad at mathematics is not a personal failing, Aquato."
Razputin slumped back into his chair. He didn’t look happy, exactly - just immensely relieved.
Hollis rose to her feet and cleared her throat. “Now, having said all of that, what you did was still against the rules. Which brings us to the issue of punishment.”
Norma hadn’t thought it was possible for Razputin’s eyes to get any wider, but they did. He looked up at Hollis, and Hollis cracked a smile.
“Don’t look so worried. In light of our discussion, I’m doubling your math lessons to two hours a week. That’s all.”
Razputin gaped. “‘That’s all’? I have to do more math?!”
“Oh, yes. You’re not getting out of it that easily, Aquato. Even for individuals with dyscalculia, learning math is not impossible - just more challenging. There are some mental visualisation techniques that I think you’ll find very helpful.” Hollis held a finger up. “And let me be clear about this: if, by the end of the semester, you can’t get through those homework sheets? That will be my failure, not yours.”
Placated, Razputin sank back into his chair. Hollis turned to Gisu.
“As for you, Nerumen. It seems like Razputin will be in need of a tutor.” Her eyes narrowed. “And given how you’re clearly so enthusiastic about helping him with his work, it seems to me that you’re the perfect candidate.”
Gisu pursed her lips, and shrugged. “Yeah. That seems pretty fair.”
“Then that takes care of that. Nerumen, Aquato, you’re dismissed.” Hollis leant back in her chair, and nodded to the door. “I’d like to have a word with agent Natividad in private.”
The other two filed out, and then Norma was alone in the room with Hollis. She tried to stop her brain from immediately jumping to all the worst conclusions, and was having mixed success when Hollis spoke again.
“Is there anything more you’d like to share about your part in this?”
“I…” Norma cleared her throat. “Well, I mean - you’ve already heard the whole story, but, uh…”
She fidgeted with her hands, and glanced up to hesitantly gauge Hollis’ expression. Her supervisor didn’t look upset, or angry, or anything of the other expressions she’d been dreading. Her earlier words rang in Norma’s head.
There aren’t any hidden tests you have to pass or bars you have to clear. The only thing we ask from you here is your best.
Norma took a deep breath.
“I’ve just been thinking,” she said. “We - the junior agents are supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to have each others' backs. But - trust is also a two-way street, right?”
Hollis didn’t say anything, and Norma, emboldened, took it as a sign to continue.
"I know I can be a little hands-on, sometimes. I'm trying to get better about messing with people like that. Because it’s not always helpful, right?" She shrugged. "Sometimes, all they need is a little push."
Hollis looked at her for a long moment. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Norma always got the feeling that Hollis could see through her, to all the parts of herself she wasn't really proud of. She braced herself for some kind of reprimand - maybe there was something she'd missed, some unforeseen way she'd actually just messed everything up again.
But then Hollis just smiled, and said, "good work."
The fire-tingle of anxiety in Norma's chest faded to a pleasant warmth. "Oh," she said. "Well, it was my pleasure."
Hollis nodded. "Now get out of my office," she said, gesturing to the door. "I've got a timetable to revise."
The final part of the case, where all the loose ends came together, was called the denouement. It was the unravelling of the conflict, and the gentle settling of events as the story came to an end. It formed the catharsis after the climax, and gave the narrative some breathing room - a reminder that, after all was said and done, life went on.
Tutoring started the following week. Norma came across the two of them in the common room, hunched over the worn plastic table.
She nodded to the tumbler of coffee next to Gisu. "You know, too much caffeine is bad for your heart."
"Let me have my vices," Gisu snipped back. "I'm supposed to be catching the new episode of Pop Gladiator with Morris right now."
Norma gave a simpering frown. "Oh dear. Such a shame about the consequences of your own actions."
Gisu just rolled her eyes as Razputin shot her a grin from across the table. "Well, for what it's worth, I appreciate the help," he said.
Satisfied, Norma settled herself onto the tattered couch, propping her novel across her knees. It wasn't that she was particularly invested in how the sessions were going or anything, she told herself, flipping over the dog-eared pages. She just liked to keep an ear on things.
Gisu wasn't a bad teacher. For all her faults, she was clear and patient with Razputin as he stumbled over the homework sheet. And three-quarters of an hour in, when Razputin suddenly gasped and his voice became shrill with excitement - “wait! I get it! You have one ten here, and you add it to the other ten to make twenty, and that gives you… twenty-two!” -
Well, if Norma allowed a small smile to cross her face, it was only from the satisfaction of a job well done.