“Word?” I say, staring at Carli in amazement. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“Well, it’s not exactly like they teach it in school. But wouldn’t it be cool if they did? Or at least if they gave some bonus points for knowing random things? It’s crazy, it’s like every school wants to teach everybody the same exact things, like those are the only important things in life to learn about. But there are sooooo many things in this world to know. Who decides what’s most important, anyway? And why do they get to decide?”

CARLI

Usually when I run my mouth this long around a boy, I start feeling stupid, like I need to superglue my lips shut. But the way Rex is looking at me—eyes wide and glazed over with gleam, like he’s staring at something sparkling—is making me feel like there’s some kind of hidden jewel inside me.

“So, I’m taking it that you’re the question-authority type,” Rex says, reaching for my hand again.

I interlace my fingers with his. “Never really thought about it like that, but I guess my mom does always say to question everything.”

“Your mom sounds cool.”

A wave of irritation rushes up inside of me at the thought of Mom. At the fact that her eyes haven’t been red and puffy for the last two days, and she seems to be getting back to normal (not that I wanted her to cry forever, but this fast?). At the fact that she still hasn’t told me what happened between her and Daddy. “Yeah, but having so many questions leaves me with a lot of stuff unanswered.”

“You mean Google doesn’t have all the answers?”

“I wish!” I say, and laugh. Then I ask, “What’s your sign?” I’m thinking he has to be an Aries. He has way too much honesty, even when he’s trying to be funny, to be anything else.

“My sign?”

“Yeah, like, when were you born?”

“August second,” he says, briefly looking down.

“Oh, a Leo. I can see that, too. Your passion. Not to mention how bold you are.”

“Bold?”

“Well, you did come down here putting your arm around me like you knew me and thangs,” I say with a playful attitude.

“Well, you are sitting here holding my hand like you know me and thangs,” he mimics me in a high voice, then laughs low and deep.

“That’s not how I talk,” I say, cheesing, and bang my knee against his.