And Marianne had to answer something. As the clock ticked on and time felt like it would run out soon, she tried to recall the sound of Nina clapping three times. Smack smack smack. Concentrate. And she listened, giving every ounce of her attention to every word Amir spoke.

“Who was the first female candidate on a presidential ticket in the United States of—”

Marianne knew this one! From the first practice! She smacked the buzzer before Amir finished speaking.

And then, as he looked at her, eyebrows raised, expectant, the horrible truth hit her: She couldn’t remember the name.

“It’s—” Marianne held up a finger to say “one second.”

Alberta? Ernestine? Ernestine DeCarlo?

“Time. I need your answer,” he said.

“Gah!” she grunted, throwing her hands in the air.

“Geraldine Ferraro,” the other team answered.

“I knew it!” she yelled out, and the moderator had to quiet her.

Marianne tried not to notice Vi shaking her head.

Why did her disappointment matter so much?

Not only was there a camera, but several parents held up their phones, recording.

She wondered if the kids from school had seen her on-screen yet.

Thank God she hadn’t said “Ernestine DeCarlo” out loud.

She thought of her parents seated behind her.

Was she doing even worse than they’d expected?

Vi’s hand went back and forth to the buzzer on repeat.

Dan could’ve been asleep for all the help he was giving her. Nina was lost to her stress.

Marianne listened in. She didn’t know the answer. And she didn’t know the next answer. And she didn’t know the answer after that. But then …

“What is the capital of Washington—” Amir began.

Without thinking, just knowing she had to do something, she buzzed in.

“Washington, DC!” she hollered.

She’d heard “Washington” and she’d heard “capital” and the words just flew out of her mouth.

The sound of stifled laughter in the crowd hit her ears like screams.

Nina’s leg shook on warp speed.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Nina whispered to her. “We’re fine.”

Marianne instinctively checked for her parents’ reaction.

“It’s okay,” her mom mouthed. She gave her a big, overly sweet smile and a thumbs-up.

If kids at school had seen it, they’d bring it up on Monday. Would they call her “DC”? What would they say about it? Would she laugh along? Maybe she could wear her dad’s T-shirt from the gig he’d played in DC to school. She’d be in on it. She’d get the joke.

Marianne let her brain leave—drift.

She tried to remember a time she’d felt free—jumping into the waters of Lake Michigan with Skyla. The water was freezing. In some spots, you could see little fish swimming around your ankles. What would it be like to be a fish, darting in the water, untroubled by the cold? She envisioned how under the waves, if you looked up, the light would pierce through the water in dozens of strands surrounding you.

“The winner of the match is the Etheridge Ermines!” Amir announced.