7-14-97, 11:00 AM

At 11:00, Kourtnee had a meeting with Dr. Charles Daymon. The meeting was at Dr. Daymon’s office. From what Kourtnee told me on the ride over, Dr. Daymon was a rather eccentric scientist who owned a product testing company. His company did independent studies of products for companies throughout the state.

We arrived at his office five minutes late. Kourtnee said that Dr. Daymon was going to be upset and probably act silly. She was right because as soon as we were shown into a small conference room, Dr. Daymon lit into Kourtnee. He ranted and raved about how precious time was. He didn’t even notice me at first. He stopped ranting and raving once he realized that I was in the room with him and Kourtnee. He asked who I was. I reached my hand out to shake his hand, but Kourtnee pulled my arm back. She whispered, “He doesn’t like to shake hands with people.” I rolled my eyes and blew a breath.

Dr. Daymon was a strange man. He was a little over 5 feet tall. He had black hair that was peppered with gray streaks. His full goatee had more gray in it than black. His eyes were black and deep set. He had bushy black eyebrows. They arched each time he wrinkled his forehead. He twitched from time to time. His hand would make a quick jerk. It seemed as if it did not effect Kourtnee at all. He had a high-pitched voice that had a tremor. He talked slow. His words were clear. You could understand everything that he said. He talked with confidence. He was sure of his subject matter.

Dr. Daymon had to leave the room for a moment. As soon as he left, I turned to Kourtnee and said, “That guy is strange.” Kourtnee smiled, pinched my cheek, and said, “He is a bit eccentric, but he is a brilliant scientist. He is the best scientist in the state.” I made a face. Kourtnee responded, “Quit making faces.” She picked at a spot on my face and asked, “Why is this brown spot on your head?” I said, “I don’t know. It has been there every since I can remember.” I asked, “Why are you here instead of someone from one of the scientific departments of the company?” as she inspected my whole face. She responded, “I am the only person that he would meet with. Is this spot your birthmark?” I said, “No, mame.” She asked, “Where is your birthmark?” I said, “On my stomach.” She said, “Really. What does…?”

Dr. Daymon walked back in the room. He had a stack of papers in his arms. A guy walked in behind him with a stack of papers in his arms, too. Dr. Daymon sat the papers down. The guy, whose name was William, did the same. William stood next to a chalkboard that was in the room. Dr. Daymon handed Kourtnee a set of papers. Kourtnee flipped through the papers. I looked at them with her.

Dr. Daymon explained each page. From time to time, William wrote something on the board for clarification purposes. Dr. Daymon explained everything clearly and thoroughly. Kourtnee asked a few questions. Dr. Daymon explained them. I asked a question. Both Dr. Daymon and William looked at me. I think the question that I asked was advanced for someone my age. Dr. Daymon answered my question. Kourtnee had this look on her face that said, “That’s my baby!” I tried not to gloat too much. Dr. Daymon continued talking for 20 more minutes.

The meeting was finally over. William collected all the papers from the table. He left the room. Dr. Daymon went over to the board and wrote a problem on it. He asked me to solve it. I looked at the problem. It was an easy problem. Dr. Daymon smiled after I solved the problem. He wrote a more difficult problem on the board. I solved that one, too. Dr. Daymon and I did that three more times. On the third time, I got stuck and couldn’t finish the problem. He nodded and left the room. I looked at Kourtnee. She looked at me. She shrugged her shoulders. She stepped out of the office to talk to the receptionist. Kourtnee walked back in the room and told me to come on. We left the building to go have lunch with a lady named Jamie Frasier.

Why did that mad scientist have me work those problems? That guy was strange.