Chapter 57

Frankie stared at his phone, the words familiar yet strung together in a way that seemed to mock his understanding.

Lost in thought for too long, his thick framed glasses slid down his nose before he caught them with a single hand, nudging them back into place with a practiced push. Squinting, he looked at the screen once more.

Frankie, a znan in his sixties, face etched with lines of time and fingers trembling slightly, deleted his meticulously typed message to replace it with a less certain reply, “Are you pulling my leg?”

An eighteen–year–old girl proving Batra’s Conjecture? It seemed about as likely as a piglet winning at the Kentucky Derby

LearnLover replied, “What?”

LearnLover continued, ‘What’s your email?”

Frankie composed himself and sent his email address. Then, setting down his phone, he waited in silence.

Patience, he reminded himself.

Over the years, there had been many claims of proving Batra’s Conjecture, only to fall apart under scrutiny. riddled with errors. Perhaps this girl was just another wild goose chase.

He took a deep breath. About five minutes later, a reminder from his computer announced the arrival of an email, his phone lighting up in tandem.

LearnLover said, ‘I sent it. Did you get it?‘

Frankie asked, half in disbelief, “Do you even know what you’ve proven?”

Perhaps she didn’t understand the magnitude of the conjecture in the mathematics.

LearnLover replied, “Batra’s Conjecture. It was tough, sure. I had it half done when you first reached out. With this last week, it took me about twenty days total.

Frankie was dumbfounded.

have any idea how many had spent their lifetimes without cracking

With

hope, Frankie replied, “Alright, I’ll take

message, he downloaded and printed thirty–some pages of draft proofs, binding them in order before turning to the first page. Once he started reading, he couldn’t

waited a bit longer, noticing Mathster had yet to reply. With ten minutes left before class ended, she pulled out a set of math Olympiad

with a mix of curiosity and concern. He’d been researching Batra’s Conjecture and realized she’d attempted to prove it. She must have given

with a brotherly tone, “Batra’s Conjecture isn’t kid’s stuff. You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew Better to focus on the National League, huh?”

and quickened her

in the National League last year. If he hadn’t had a physical problem and didn’t go to the winter camp, he might

her books quickly, and walked out with her arms.

ramble Juliana came out of physics class. At the sight of Hanley. she hastily came after him, ‘Hanley!”

sheepishly shifting the conversation, “I heard Mr. Stanton visited you for an assessment. With your skills, you

a smile, her voice a whisper,

why? I heard Stanton took on a new student. Not you, then Cordelia?“

“It’s Jay She seemed so lonely and never had proper schooling or friends. I let her have

accompanied her back to class, murmuring, “Just as I thought, Cordelia, raised in an orphanage, wouldn’t know how to

workbook, but she kept

assumptions

in the classroom, a classmate waved his phone, Hanley, who do you think will take the top spot in the National League? Keen’s leading the polls, then some guy from out of the province Jake’s third,

of being the national champion made Juliana scoff, “National champion is not a title easily won.

Lost in t

the last row where Cordelia packed her bag. Memories flooded back when he was the math

back, “Td say

Cordelia left the room, her bag heavy with books, Hanley couldn’t help but watch her

his mind.

maybe, she could surprise them all.

couldn’t be higher for the statewide math competition. Only the top whiz would be plucked from the ranks to compete in the National League showdown. Everyone else, despite being dubbed first–rate, might as

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