When Nina arrived, Marianne tried to initiate their group handshake, but Vi said she needed a minute and rushed to the restroom.

“Her nerves are making me nervous,” Nina confessed.

“Ah, just enjoy it,” Dan told her.

“That’s the spirit,” Mr. Garcia told him, patting his back.

But Marianne knew that was just Dan’s way of not caring, of giving up.

“Is your brother coming?” Nina asked Dan.

“No, he’s at home watching our baby sister. But he told me this morning he’ll be sure to catch the livestream so he can watch me, but he just wants to see what I get wrong so that he can mock me for it later,” Dan said.

“I told you. Evil twin,” Nina whispered to Marianne. “I love being an only child,” she added more audibly.

When she peeked into the auditorium, her fantasies of Quiz Quest Regionals struck her as so funny. It was just a school—a plain old school—with normal overhead lighting and a few tables and some chairs spread out for parents to watch. Why had she pictured something like one of those glossy, glam singing competitions?

Marianne spotted a couple of cameras. Oh no. That was how people would watch her. Could she throw her sweater on one of them?

Before they entered the first classroom to compete against Lewis Middle School, their parents scurried in to grab seats.

Dan pointed out his mom and stepdad to the rest of the team and they all waved. Incredible. His mom, who looked way younger than Marianne’s parents, had tattoos up and down her arms and a large piercing that took up the whole earlobe.

Nina’s parents were the exact opposite. Their shirts appeared well-ironed and made of materials that Marianne’s mom would never let her buy because they couldn’t go in the dryer. Nina’s mom kept her hands in her lap with her ankles crossed.

Vi’s parents weren’t there.

Three tables made a triangle, one for the administrators and one for each team. However, the other team had about nine members, five of whom sat back in the designated parent seats that lined the walls of the classroom.

All those eyes on Marianne really made her squirm. It had only been a few weeks of studying, after all. She knew almost nothing.

But, as hard a time as she was having, Marianne saw that Nina was struggling much more.

Marianne leaned in toward her. “Where’s your fidget thing?”

“I don’t think it’s allowed here?” she whispered back.

Marianne couldn’t keep her eyes off the camera that stood on a tripod facing the tables. Kids at home couldn’t be tuning in to every team at once in each classroom. Which room did they air and when? When would everyone be watching her?

The moderator, who said to “just call me Amir,” began the event with a speech about how they all represented academic excellence and passion.

She could just imagine the giggles reverberating through the homes of her classmates.

For a moment, she wished she could remember what it felt like before she’d ever noticed anyone laughing at her or frowning at her as she took too long to figure out a problem or feeling sorry for her when they all aced something she had to redo. If none of that had ever happened, would she feel perfectly fine?