Vi listed each person’s strongest areas and ended with Marianne. “She’s started with astronomy, but we’ll need more time to assess her strengths.”

She wished she could thank Vi.

“We have about a month,” Mr. Garcia said, tapping his knuckles on the teacher’s desk. “Let’s get to work!”

He put her with Nina this time.

At almost inaudible levels, Nina said to her, “You’re going to actually try … right?”

What choice did she have? She needed to pass.

And Skyla wanted this from her.

And it wasn’t like anybody would see the competitions, except for the team.

And what had Lillian said to her? You couldn’t get faster if you stayed dry? She had to jump in the pool.

Marianne smiled at Nina and nodded.

The questions commenced. Marianne listened for the ones she knew. Did they come up every time? Or were there always new ones? She’d have to ask Vi.

The kids buzzed faster than she could, anyway, even if she did know anything.

And then, out of the blue, a question she remembered: “Who was the second president, hailing from Massachusetts, known for—”

Before Mr. Garcia finished, Marianne buzzed in.

“John Quincy Adams!” she yelled out.

“Incorrect.” Normally Mr. Garcia went right on, but he stopped and turned to Marianne: “Nice try, Ms. Blume. John Quincy Adams was this man’s son.”

Buzz. “John Adams,” Vi answered.

Marianne had thought they were the same person. So humiliating. The other kids must have felt like Elliott Roth did all those years ago: what a waste of their time.

Expecting a standard Vi glare, Marianne kept her gaze on her fingers. The pink polish was chipping off.

When she did look up, though, Vi and Dan both gave her a thumbs-up before directing their attention back to Mr. Garcia.

“Good try!” mouthed Dan.

So they weren’t angry.

Okay, she’d listen in again.

Before the round was over, Marianne had twisted her hair so much she’d created a couple of knots, and she’d gotten no answers correct. If it was a competition, she wouldn’t have met the threshold for a teammate.

But had she thought she’d learn five facts and suddenly do a good job? So silly.

When Mr. Garcia called a break and left the room, Vi immediately turned to her.

“How’s homework going?” Vi asked.

“What do you mean?” Was Vi serious, or was this another setup for a put-down?

“Are you getting the work done?”

At the thought of homework sessions with her mom, guilt overwhelmed her. Her mom sat with her through each painstaking math problem or critical-thinking question and talked it over with her, watched her write it all down, and never gave up even when they were on algebra problem number twenty and Marianne begged her nonstop to let her finish it in the morning.

“It’s fine?”

“Hmm,” Vi said, whipping out her phone and texting someone something. “Not convincing. That knowledge will help you. You have to spend every waking moment on it.”