Zoe stepped back from the window, ran both hands through her hair, and frowned. “Wait. No goals about grade point averages? Or trying different kinds of vegetables? Or learning a new skill?” She loves setting those kinds of goals.

“You heard your dad,” Mom said, waving a hand in the air. “Character and fun.”

I heaved a sigh of relief.

Dad stepped back next to Zoe and pulled up a memo app on his phone. “So, let’s talk character. Zoe, what’s a character trait that you would like to strengthen this year?”

“Zoe would like to become less bossy,” I blurted out.

Zoey glared. “And Arcade would like to become more open to correction.”

Mom shook her head. “That’s not how it works. You may not set goals for each other.”

“Yes, but it’s easier that way.” I gave Zoe a side glance and a smirk. She reached over and covered my face with her hand.

“Patience,” Zoe said. “I need to be more patient. With Arcade, of course, but I also struggle waiting for things to fall into place.”

Dad nodded. “And nothing has fallen into place in New York City?”

Zoe bit her lip. “Nothing yet.”

Dad typed out some words on his phone. “Patience for Zoe. Got it.” He looked back up, catching her glance. “And what would you like to do for fun?”

Zoe looked out toward Central Park and smiled. “I’d like to do some bird-watching in the Ramble.”

“Ramble?” I stared out at the city. “What’s that?”

“The Ramble. You know. It’s that section of the park with all the twisty paths. We’ve been through there a couple times. I read that it’s one of the top bird-watching locations in the United States.”

“Sounds boring,” I said.

Zoe pushed me in the shoulder. “It’s NOT boring. In fact, there is quite a bit of adventure to be discovered in the Ramble. I heard there’s a secret cave that’s been closed to the public since the 1920s.”

Hmmm. Secret cave?

Dad typed some more, then put his hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Great choice, Zoe. I think those two goals will go together nicely.”

Mom stepped up next to me. “So how about you, Arcade? What character trait would you like to work on?”

I leaned my elbows against the window ledge, resting my chin in my hand. “Mom, this sounds a lot like a ‘feelings’ talk. Can’t we just go with a GPA goal?”

“And what’s wrong with feelings?” Zoe put a hand on her hip.

I shivered. “They’re confusing. I like facts.”

“Yeah? Like how many sides are on a stop sign?”

“That’s easy. There’s ten.”

“No. There’s eight.”

“Ten.”

“Really? Arcade, maybe you should focus on feelings more. Your facts are a little wonky.”