“We’ll see about that,” he says, snatching up his textbook. His fingers run through his hair, a tell I’ve noticed when he’s gearingup for a challenge. “Ladies first. Explain the concept of angular momentum.”
I take a deep breath, willing my brain to cooperate. This is my chance to prove I’m not just doodles and daydreams. “Angular momentum is like … imagine you’re spinning on ice skates. When you pull your arms in, you spin faster. That’s because?—”
“I asked for the concept, not a metaphor,” Ryan interrupts, his brow furrowing.
I clench my fists under the table. “I’m getting there. The point is angular momentum is conserved. As the radius decreases, the angular velocity increases to maintain the same angular momentum. L equals I times omega, where I is the moment of inertia, and omega is the angular velocity.”
Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, and I can’t help the smug smile that spreads across my face. Yeah, that’s right. I know my stuff.
“Not bad,” he admits grudgingly. “Your turn.”
I flip through my notebook and land on a page covered in swirling doodles and equations. “Okay, hotshot. Explain the difference between elastic and inelastic collisions.”
Ryan’s lips quirk into a half-smile, and I try to ignore the way it makes my stomach flutter. “Easy. In an elastic collision, kinetic energy is conserved. In an inelastic collision, it’s not. Objects stick together in a perfectly inelastic collision.”
“And?” I press, leaning forward.
“And what? That’s all that’s mentioned in the chapter.”
“Dig deeper into the theory.” There’s more to it, and I know he knows it. All he has to do is think it through.
Ryan hesitates for a moment, and I feel a thrill of satisfaction. Maybe this won’t be the cakewalk he thought it would be.
I tap my pen against my notebook, waiting. Ryan’s eyes narrow, focused intently on some point just over my shoulder.
“Ah-ha,” he finally concedes, meeting my gaze. “In an elastic collision, the objects bounce off each other, maintaining their shape and kinetic energy. Think billiard balls. Inelastic collisions involve deformation and energy loss, like a car crash.”
I can’t help but grin. “Not bad yourself, Sorenson. But you forgot one crucial detail.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Which is?”
“The coefficient of restitution,” I say, twirling my pen between my fingers. “It measures the elasticity of the collision. One for perfectly elastic, zero for perfectly inelastic.”
Ryan’s lips press into a thin line, and I have to bite back a laugh. He hates being one-upped.
“Alright, smartass,” he challenges, leaning across the table. “Let’s see you explain wave-particle duality without your usual interpretive dance routine.”
I gasp in mock offense. “I’ll have you know my quantum physics dance moves are legendary.”
“I’m sure they are,” he quips, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But let’s keep it verbal for now. We don’t want to scandalize the entire library.”
My cheeks heat up at the thought, but I push through. “Challenge accepted, Mr. By-the-Book. Light exhibits properties of both waves and particles, depending on how you observe it. It’s like … imagine you’re watching a hockey game. From the stands, the players look like a fluid wave of motion. But up close, you see individual players, like particles.”
Ryan’s eyes spark with interest. “Not bad. Though I’m pretty sure Schrödinger didn’t use hockey analogies.”
“Well, maybe he should have,” I retort, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I bet his cat would’ve appreciated it.”
I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head. “Okay, Einstein, I think we’ve earned a break from the quantumrealm. Tell me something that doesn’t involve equations or hockey plays.”
Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, but his shoulders relax. He drums his fingers on the table, thinking. “Okay. I have one. When I was eight, I wanted to be a professional magician.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing. “No way! Mr. Serious with card tricks? How did I not know this?”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I was pretty good.” He grins and reaches for a nearby pen. With a flick of his wrist, it disappears. “Ta-da!”
I clap softly, impressed despite myself. Talking like this reminds me of the days we spent together. Back when conversations came easily. “Okay, that was smooth. Why’d you give it up?”
His smile falters slightly. “Dad said I would stand out enough without acting like a clown.”