“It doesn’t make sense.” My parents exchange a worried glance, and I get a whiff of that familiar disappointment: Why does Chloe have to make everything so hard?

“Of course it does, sweetheart. It makes perfect sense,” my dad says.

“There’s no way,” I say.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” my dad says, and taps the screen again. His voice is sharper, with a tightness I only ever hear when he’s on the phone with work people, what I think of as his cut the crap tone. I don’t understand the undercurrent of anger, and so I shake my head, smile, feel the slightest bit of relief.

1440.

“This is great. This is best-case scenario. Be happy,” my mom says, looking from my dad to me and then back again. “All I ever want is for you to be happy, Chlo.”

I make a conscious attempt to suck up her joy. She’s right. This is best-case scenario, actually better than best case, because I never allowed myself to consider the possibility of scoring this high.

I let my mom pull me out of my chair so we can cha-cha together, though mine is worse than hers. I allow myself a minute to revel.

Maybe I’m not as stupid as I thought.

Maybe I do not need to create my own, new category of smart, after all.

—

I text Shola.

Me: 1440

Shola: !!!!!­!!!!!­!!

Me: I know, right?

Shola: AMAZING! I’m so proud of you!

Me: There has to be a mix-up

Shola: Come on. Stop that. You EARNED THIS

Me: I mean, I did work my ass off, but…

Shola: But nothing!

Me: 1440 shouldn’t be a big deal to you Ms. 1560

Shola: Don’t do that. It’s a HUGE DEAL!!!!!!!

Me: I raised my score 240 points. That doesn’t sound like too much? Like there’s a glitch in the matrix?

Shola: No glitch, bitch. That should be your senior quote

Me: 1440!!!!

Shola: Well, I always said you were a genius

Me: You’ve never once said I’m a genius

Shola: You’re right. I didn’t. But I love you, you beautiful smart human whose value comes not from how you fill out a Scantron on a standardized test even when it gets you a score as kickass as this, but whose value comes from the beauty within. Nothing standardized about you

Me: Love you too you big nerd

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Now

Five days after my mom is arrested, the first encrypted group text arrives via Signal, an app Isla downloaded to our new cells. She says it’s a less dangerous, more private way to communicate, and so this is how she and I talk when not face to face. Through software used by spies and terrorists.

Kenny agreed that this was a smart precaution. We don’t want to risk hacking or wiretaps.