“We have a lot to do, we’ve wasted a lot of valuable time,” Vi said before listing off a set of goals and asking for everyone’s schedules.

“Wait, wait, guys!” Marianne interrupted Vi. She pulled Skyla in closer. “Meet your new teammate. Skylaaa Raymooond!” she yelled like a sportscaster.

“It’s too late for a swing,” Vi said.

“No, no,” Marianne explained. “She’s taking my place.”

Immediately, the group panicked. Nina and Vi competed for airtime, and Marianne couldn’t hear a word and then Dan’s voice lifted above the two of them and asked, “So Ms. Clarke and Mr. Garcia said you couldn’t compete? Harsh, man. Cruel.”

“Actually…” And dang it, Marianne felt her throat catch. She didn’t even feel sad, so why was she about to cry? “Mr. Garcia said I could. He’s not so bad, I guess. And I’m—”

“No!” Nina jumped in. “No! Why?”

“I’m okay with taking the year again,” Marianne explained. She tried to sound upbeat. She felt Skyla’s chin rest on her shoulder.

“I probably need it, anyway,” she went on. “You guys know that. I just … you guys helped me so much, but I’m a little too far behind. And I’ve seen Skyla—believe me, she’s so good at this stuff, she learns facts in a second, she’s got a brain like a sponge—”

“That’s fantastic,” Dan muttered.

“And I know I’m not, like, a ‘statistics’ expert, I’m, like, the exact opposite of that? But I’m positive your chances at winning are better with Skyla. So … I’m gonna pass on the extra credit.” She paused. “I’ll be okay.”

She could be the heart of the team. That was who she wanted to be. The heart.

As they walked home through the field, Skyla said, “Hey, can you give me some advice on this awkward Julie-Zara situation?”

“Yes! So glad you brought it back up. I love people stuff. What’s up?”

While they chatted, they stopped to linger by the little boys doing bomb drops until the sun began to set.

13

ON THE DAY OF the competition, Marianne sat by the window next to Lillian, who lay sprawled with her long swimmer limbs on the orange rag rug on the floor.

Marianne, after finishing her graphic novel the night before, read on in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, while Lillian read a book called Wuthering Heights, which she said was “supposed to be romantic, but is actually horrifying.”

Around 10:00 A.M., a large gray van pulled up in front of Skyla’s house. It was the Ermines, taking her to Lansing.

“We’ll meet you there in a couple of hours!” Skyla’s dads yelled as they waved her off.

She saw Skyla glance over toward her house and so she quickly lifted the windowsill.

“Break a leg, guys!” she yelled.

“You’ll do great!” Lillian hollered from the floor.

Skyla motioned her down, but she shook her head. She’d stay up there.

Maybe two eighth grades wouldn’t be so bad. Marianne would meet a lot of the seventh graders and make new friends. Maybe. But that thought still didn’t feel very good, and she pushed it out of her head.