“Nice!” Lillian said. “I told you that you got this.”

“Also,” Marianne giggled, “he was really, really short, so there’s this thing named after him where short guys want to be tougher to make up for being short and it’s called—”

“The Napoleon complex,” Lillian finished for her. “Yeah, we know, Mar. Dad has it.”

“Hey now!” her mom said, choking on some food as she laughed.

“It’s true,” her dad agreed.

She loved when her family wasn’t stressed out, when they could joke and tease one another and relax. Plus, she had more to tell them.

“Wait, I haven’t told you guys my favorite thing from yesterday. Dan is full of these fun facts. It’s wild. Did you know that a minnow has teeth in its throat?”

“A lot of these don’t sound so … scholarly to me,” her dad said, skeptical.

“Zoology is science, Dad,” Marianne said. She stood up to go grab another drink. “In fact, I think I’d like to be a zoologist one day.”

“Awesome!” Lillian gave Marianne a high five on her way past her to the fridge.

“How is the math going?” her dad asked.

“You really know how to bring down a party.” Marianne grabbed the seltzer and returned to her seat, pulling her feet up onto the chair.

“I’m just asking!” he said. “Do they do the math you’re working on with Mom in the competitions or no?”

This was another way to ask if she was doing too much Quiz Quest and not enough homework. Anyone could see that.

“Vi works with me on it, too, right, Mom?”

Her mom lifted a water glass. “To Vi! She’s quite something. Did I tell you this thirteen-year-old girl called me up on the phone?” she added to Marianne’s dad. “She wanted to assure me she’d help Marianne with her work.”

“Yeah, she’s something, that’s for sure,” Marianne grumbled.

“What’s her deal?” Lillian asked, swigging from Marianne’s new drink.

“Hey! Back off! I don’t know, she’s kind of mysterious,” Marianne said. “She’s obsessed with grades and all that.” Marianne gave Lillian a pointed stare.

“You back off,” Lillian warned her.

“And she usually seems sad,” Marianne went on. “And she wears black pants and a collared shirt every single day in different colors. Like she’s in a uniform.”

“That’s a ‘successful people’ thing,” Lillian told her. “Like Steve Jobs wore the same outfit every day.”

“It’s so you don’t waste a moment of your genius worrying about what to wear,” their dad explained. “Although,” he added to himself, as he passed around the salad. “I guess Steve Jobs’s genius ended up with thousands of people working in sweatshops, so maybe we all would’ve been a little better off if he’d struggled between the blue button-up or wool sweater…”

“More, please?” Her mom held out a plate toward the serving bowl. “Girls, listen to me. If you take any advice I’ve ever given you to heart, make it this: Marry a man who knows how to cook.”