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Oh, please no. No, no, no.I wanted to get personal with everyone in this room as much as I wanted a root canal.

Jax leaned forward, frowning. “What’s the point of asking personal questions in a group of strangers?”

Mr. Kingston didn’t seem perturbed by Jax’s question. “Mr. Drummond, I assure you, over the course of the next few weeks, you’ll know your classmates better than you ever imagined. Now, shall we continue or does anyone want to excuse themselves from this exercise?”

None of us said anything further, so Mr. Kingston spoke again. “Fine. Mr. Coleman, you get the first question. How would you describe the color blue to someone who is blind?”

“What?” Bo said in confusion.

I exchanged a baffled look with Jax. What kind of question was that? Was this the line of personal questioning Mr. Kingston was talking about? Or was this just to throw us off, to see how we handled the unexpected?

Mr. Kingston patiently repeated his question, either not aware or not caring how bizarre the question sounded. Bo fell silent, likely trying to process. I had no idea how I’d answer the question and hoped fervently I wouldn’t have to.

“I guess I would take the blind person’s hand and stick it in a bowl of cool water,” Bo finally said. “I’d tell them water is blue, the oceans are blue, the sky is blue, and blue is a cool, soothing color.”

Mr. Kingston leaned back in his chair. “Interesting. Why did you choose that method of explanation?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just figured if they couldn’t see, they would have tofeelthe color. That probably doesn’t make sense.”

Personally, I thought it a clever way to explain color to someone who couldn’t see. My respect for Bo went up a notch. But Mr. Kington’s expression didn’t change, and he didn’t say whether it was a good answer or not, so who knew?

“Thank you, Mr. Coleman. Ms. Sinclair, if you were to stack this room in pennies only, what would be the total amount of money?”

“Excuse me?” I stammered. It had only been a few minutes and I was already experiencing mental whiplash. What was with these strange questions?

He repeated the question, adding, “Please explain your calculations aloud.”

For a moment, I could only stare at him. It took me a full minute to wrap my head around the question before the rational part of my brain took over. “Um, okay. First I would have to account for the size of the penny. I would estimate the size as nineteen millimeters by nineteen millimeters, with a thickness of 1.5 millimeters. That would make the total volume of the penny 541.5 cubic millimeters.”

Mr. Kingston dipped his head indicating he was following, so I continued.

“Then I’d have to determine the size of this room.” I turned around in my chair looked at all four corners and the ceiling. “It seems to be about nine meters by nine meters with five meters for ceiling height. Taking that into account, if I divided the penny volume, which is 541.5, into the total volume of the room—I would get the figures of five thousand millimeters times nine thousand millimeters times nine thousand millimeters. That results in a monetary value of $7,479,224.37.”

Bo whistled under his breath, but Mr. Kingston’s face remained expressionless. “Explain the formula, please,” he said.

“The formula is the room volume divided by the volume of a single penny, divided by one hundred, to get a dollar amount.”

“I see. How do you account for the spaces between the pennies?”

“I’m calculating each penny as though it was square, so the space is included in the 541.5 calculation. There’s no need to account for it.”

“Thank you, Ms. Sinclair.” He turned to Jax. “Mr. Drummond, you and your buddies are examining a car engine. The friend to your right says the closed coil end of a valve spring should go against the cylinder head. The buddy to your left says all valve springs use shims to control free-spring height. Who is right?”

Jax snorted and leaned his elbows on the table. “First, all valve springs donotuse shims to control assembled free-spring height, or any assembled height, for that matter. My buddy on the right is correct. A closed coil end of a valve spring should go against the cylinder head.”

“Thank you, Mr. Drummond.”

The questioning continued with a series of strange questions to each of us. Bo seemed to get the more odd, abstract questions. Jax got pointed questions about mechanics and engineering. I received math and computer questions. We were never told if we were wrong or right, and Mr. Kingston only asked follow-up questions if he wondered about our method or reasoning.

After at least an hour of this exhausting line of bizarre questioning, the questions suddenly turned more personal.

“So, Mr. Coleman, what would you say is your greatest weakness?” Mr. Kingston asked. “I would like to remind you that we value honesty in this line of questioning, so please keep that in mind when answering.”

“My greatest weakness?” Bo asked. He didn’t seem as taken aback by the abrupt shift in questioning. Maybe we were all getting better prepared at expecting the unexpected.

“Yes, your greatest weakness,” he repeated.

“Well, finally, a question that isn’t so hard.” Bo relaxed back against his chair. “My family is my weakness. We’re a tight-knit unit.”