I’m not a quiet or shy person. I’m not exactly loud either—okay, maybe a touch dramatic like Oscar says—but something about Kiera makes me quieter than a mouse. Like, I don’t even want to breathe in the wrong direction in case she notices me and decides to remind me that, to her, I’m nothing more than her ex-BFF reject.

“Okay, class, I’m passing out the review for the life science test,” says Mrs. Young, who’s wearing bright-yellow pants and a navy-blue shirt with constellations stitched all over it.

I like Mrs. Young. For a teacher, she’s pretty awesome. She’s kind of round in a way that reminds me of myself if I were actually cool and knew what to do with my hair. She also wears neat-colored lipstick like lavender or blue or orange.

“Don’t forget to check out the bulletin board during morning break. There are some tips and tricks for your research projects.”

I let out a loud groan. Ugh . . . the research project. I still haven’t figured out who I’m going to pick for my project.

She clears her throat and continues. “And I’ve even added a few things relevant to your summer vacation, including information about the Valentine Community Theater’s summer camp.”

“Will Tabitha be there?” asks Samantha from the front row.

Mrs. Young’s wife, Tabitha, is a firefighter and volunteers at the Valentine Community Theater teaching improvisation classes. They have a lizard named Persephone and a gray cat named Edith. I’ve only met Tabitha once, but I make a habit of trusting fellow cat owners.

Mrs. Young smiles at Samantha. “As much as her schedule will allow her!” And with that she sweeps her long dark-brown ringlets half up with a clip the same way she does every morning when it’s time to get started on class work. “Take one and pass it back. And listen up very carefully: I’m not saying this is exactly what the test will look like, but I am saying that the review and the quiz could be fraternal twins.” She winks dramatically so that no one can miss it.

Dusty Sanders, a short white boy with one uneven front tooth and short red spiky hair, shoots one hand up on the other side of the class, and he doesn’t even wait to be called on. “What does fraternal twins even mean, miss? Is that like a college fraternity but only for twins?”

Mrs. Young smiles at him sweetly, making what my mom calls a bless-your-heart expression. “Bless your heart” is just basically southern for you’re not so bright, but at least you mean well. “Class, which of y’all can tell us what fraternal twins are?”

Kiera, who is half black and half white with long legs that bump right up against the seat in front of her, raises her hand, her posture perfect, and pulls her hair tie loose, swinging her long braids over her shoulder. Sometimes she seems so pretty and perfect that I feel like I’m watching a movie.