“Of course she has the aptitude. She is my daughter; I know what she’s capable of. The question is, why is she making an effort in only one subject and slacking off in all the others? Perhaps we should make her drop Latin so she has time for math.”

“Uh, I wouldn’t recommend that,” Mr. Streko said.

There was an awkward pause. Liam sat on the floor outside the classroom and pretended to look for something deep in his backpack. He wasn’t even supposed to be upstairs right now, unless he was studying in the library, or in the darkroom, working on his “generic definition” project for photography.

“Most likely she never encountered American history before now,” Miss Melanie went on kindly. “And perhaps she could use some extra help in algebra and physics.”

“Is it possible she’s cheating and you haven’t noticed? In Latin, I mean.”

Whoa. What mom accused her own daughter of cheating?

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that.” Miss Melanie rushed to Shy’s defense. “You’d have noticed. Right, Sammy?”

Liam almost snorted out loud. Sammy Streko? What the fuck kind of a name was that?

“Not at all,” Mr. Streko agreed. “I’m a pretty tough teacher, actually. I conduct most of the class in Latin and the kids look at me like I’m a lunatic. Except Shy. She’s got a good ear. It’s like she can hear the roots, you know?”

Total silence. Poor Sammy.

“Unless she’s cheating,” Shy’s mom insisted. It was almost like she wanted Shy to be more devious than she actually was.

“It’s pretty hard to cheat in Latin. The vocab has to be memorized. I ask a lot of open-ended questions. There’s no right answer. You just have to be engaged.”

“I’ll speak to Shy about a peer tutor in algebra and maybe physics,” Miss Melanie suggested gently. “That often helps.”

“Mmm.” Shy’s mother didn’t sound convinced. “I have to get back to work.” There was a rustling as she tied on her trench coat, or whatever rustling item of clothing she was wearing, and swept out of the classroom.

“Honestly,” she muttered, nearly tripping over Liam.

Liam leapt to his feet, his last calculus test in his hand. He’d gotten an A minus.

He waited for Shy’s unnecessarily frantic mom to rustle away and some of the teachers to wander back to their offices. Then he lunged awkwardly into the classroom.

“Hello, Liam.” Miss Melanie offered him her useless, sunshiny smile. “We were just finishing up a conference. Do you need this room?”

Mr. Streko was typing on his phone. A half-eaten Chipotle burrito rested in his lap. He looked wiped, like Shy’s mom had grabbed his mangy beard and dragged him around behind her Mercedes.