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But Henry didn't know much about the company, or the nature of the experiments themselves, beyond the fact that when they had sent out a search for test subjects, they had specified a need for exceptional children.

Henry hadn't been considered, of course. He did well in school, but he wasn't exceptional by any means. His family, himself included, had already come to terms with that fact quite some time ago. Henry would have liked to say it didn't sting when it happened now, but he wasn't very good at lying, even to himself.

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His results were the product of a great deal of effort, and even if there was no shame in that, in his eyes there was nothing to be proud of there either.

If he had been better at lying to himself.. He wondered if he would have been able to frame it as his father wanting to protect him. Of course Henry hadn't been volunteered, because the project was risky, and what man would want to subject his own child to that?

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But the lie wouldn't have borne up under any close examination anyway, Henry knew. Callum was the son of a different researcher, one of the less important ones under his father's supervision. Maybe they had volunteered their own child to get ahead in their career, but the fact remained that Callum had been the perfect candidate. Henry had met him in passing a few times, both because of his father's work and outside it, at competitions and other events between schools.

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It was from these encounters that Henry knew that Callum was the real thing, a bona fide golden boy prodigy.

The difference was so stark that Henry couldn't even really work up the energy to be jealous. It was as if they existed on completely different levels. Some day Callum was going to have one of those lives that people wrote biographies about, and Henry would probably end up with a respectable, humdrum career and go his entire life without his name ever becoming known outside his own private circle.

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And that was fine... Really, it was. It wasn't as if Henry had ever seriously dreamed of fame and fortune, at least not since he had been very young, at the age where kids dreamed indiscriminately about anything, without knowing any better. But it was still a little disheartening to have it staring at you in the face in the summer of your second year of high school, when you had just been trying to relax. All of a sudden, he regretted coming to the library, just a little.

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He remembered thinking it was a good thing the two of them didn't go to the same school, when he had heard that Callum had been tapped for the experiments. Then it would have been impossible not to run into him. And Henry was sure that at whatever school Callum went to, he enjoyed all the clout of someone who was simultaneously good at his studies and in his social life. Whenever Henry had had the opportunity to see him in person, Callum was always surrounded.

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Something about his aura drew people in, though evidently something he did must also keep them there. Even Henry wasn't necessarily immune to that kind of magnetic pole, but he also sensed on some level that it wasn't for him -- not that they wouldn't get along, because Callum seemed to have a way of making everyone feel at ease, but that it would be superficial, and that in the end, Henry would be a footnote in Callum's life, or even less than that.

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Henry, who was used enough to feeling like a footnote in general, didn't want to go seeking out that kind of experience.

But it was a relief all the same not to have to see the full display of it every day.

Come to think of it though, it was odd to see Callum with so few people trailing after him. He must have spent some time alone, Henry knew; no one, no matter how extroverted, could stay surrounded by people at all hours of the day.

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But if he was just spending a day at the library with his friends, it stood to reason that there would be more friends involved. For the first time, Henry felt a little curious about him after all. Not curious enough to go up and approach the guy, but he found himself peering surreptitiously at Callum over the edge of the book he had been reading. Was it possible, then, that Callum didn't actually like to be in the center of a throng?

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Was it possible that he wanted a break from living like that? The idea that Callum was burdened by his own talent and status was foreign to Henry -- not because he didn't think a person could be, but because he had never seen evidence to support such an idea until now. Callum always carried on as if he was enjoying himself perfectly well, though to be fair Henry didn't see him often, and he didn't see Callum up close either if he could help it.

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Maybe there had been hints, and he had simply missed them. Reading people had never been Henry's forte either, so there was even more room for error as far as his interpretations of Callum's character were concerned. It didn't help that Henry didn't want to think about Callum if he didn't have to, so he hadn't given the matter much thought.

It also drew Henry's interest toward Callum's sole companion. Who could be important enough that Callum chose to spend time with them specifically?

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The other boy's identity wasn't a secret to Henry; he had recognized both of them when they had walked through the door. But the other boy was one that Henry knew much less well, and whose existence he was only aware of because this other boy was also involved in the experiments. Henry had overheard his father talking about a boy named Rory from time to time when he talked about his work to colleagues -- sometimes in astonishment, and occasionally in dismay.

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Henry had only seen him maybe twice, but the fact that his father brought up Rory's name from time to time meant that Henry at least remembered who he was. In person, he didn't seem remarkable at all. There was none of that aura about him that Callum seemed to have. He was shorter, though not short the way Henry was; his hair was a reddish brownish mop that looked as if it was in need of a cut, or at least better styling.

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Not that it was Henry's place to judge. He knew that he himself looked like the very picture of the kind of kid who would get stuffed into a locker in every high school movie ever made, even without other people remarking on it, which they did more often than he would like. But Rory's way of dressing was a little odd too. He had about a dozen different bracelets on each wrist, and he wore a plaid scarf even though it was summer.

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The rest of it looked okay, though there was a curious mix of worn and over-large items contrasting with ones that were more expensive, better fitting, and newer. Henry didn't know what to make of that.

The two of them seemed to be in their own little world. Callum looked around a bit, and had at least a peripheral awareness of what was going on, but Rory in particular was simply talking and gesturing as if he didn't notice anyone else's presence, too caught up in whatever he was saying to notice.