Watching Levi, I consider for the first time that maybe I’m not not-smart, I’m lazy.

I think about his Nope, sorry, we changed our minds, and I wonder if that will happen here, between us. He’ll rescind this hand-holding and the kissing, and for me, he’ll turn out to be another overreach. My heart will be destroyed in all its onomatopoeic glory: blam, splat, kapow.

“When you send in your acceptance, just say no backsies. It works for the cooties.” I throw my books into my locker, and Levi laughs again and brushes his lips against my cheek. If kisses could talk, this one would say: I enjoy you. And if it wasn’t weird, I’d say: Please don’t stop.

“No backsies,” he says.

“Chloe Berringer, report to Mrs. Oh. Chloe Berringer, report to Mrs. Oh,” the office receptionist announces over the loudspeaker, interrupting our moment.

My stomach clenches. Of course, I already know what’s to come. Mrs. Oh will sit me down in her office and will make official what I already suspect: the College Board screwed up my results. I did not get a 1440. Moron status reconfirmed.

I think about my parents’ inevitable disappointment. Crap. This morning, my mom ran around the house chanting SCC! SCC! SCC! despite the fact that even with these new scores, it’s still a big long shot.

“Uh-oh,” I say.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Levi kisses my cheek a second time, like he can’t resist, and I melt, despite the anxiety surging through my veins. “Okay, got to get to class. But: Saturday. You, me, celebratory tacos.”

“No backsies,” I call after him, and then for no reason at all, maybe because it’s my default factory setting, as soon as the words are out, I feel like an idiot.

—

I sprint to Mrs. Oh’s office. If my entire future is about to unravel, let’s rip this Band-Aid off fast.

“Chloe,” Mrs. Oh says, and I can’t read her face. She’s in her thirties, and wears tortoise-shell glasses and wide-legged linen pants. Something bulges from her chest, and it takes me a minute to understand: she’s holding a sleeping infant in a sling. She sways side to side. “Come sit down. I’m going to stand and rock and pat. It’s a whole routine and we don’t want to wake the little monster.”

“I don’t know how this happened,” I say, fumbling, because how do you say, Well, it was fun while it lasted. Back to Planet Mediocre? Mrs. Oh smiles at me, puts a comforting hand on my shoulder, and then goes back to her rocking.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” she says.