“Correct. You get to move forward two spaces.”

She takes two steps forward onto the game board amidst some scattered applause and whoops.

“Alrighty then, Reese. This next question is for you. In 1960, which country became the first in the world to have a female prime minister?”

“Sri Lanka.” She answers with zero hesitation.

I can’t help but stare at her in surprise. How does she know these things?

“Correct. You get to move forward one, and oh, look at that you get to take the ladder up as well.”

There are some groans and a mixture of claps from the crowd.

“Fitz.” Jude turns back to me. “What is the collective name for a group of crows?”

Finally. Something I know. “A murder.”

Scattered applause. I move forward one.

The game goes on like this. I get a few correct but miss most of them. Reese misses nothing.

Ever.

I almost think I have a chance when she has to take a slide back to the prior row of spaces, but then I get hammered in a series of questions about which I know nothing and Reese, of course, knows every single one.

In which country was the Caesar salad invented? Mexico.

What is the tiny plastic tip covering the end of a shoelace called? An aglet.

What is the dot over a lowercase i and j called? A tittle.

A tittle?

“I just wanted to hear our innocent little Reese here say tit,” Jude admits.

She handily makes it to the end, where the giant key awaits.

Jude lifts her arm, announces her the Bedlam winner of the second challenge, and hands her the key.

A tall guy on the sideline approaches Reese, smiling and excited.

They bump fists and she says something I can’t make out over all the chatter. They laugh together.

He’s eyeballing her like he’s one of the Bumpuses’ dogs and she’s a ripe turkey on Christmas morning. She’s flushed and smiling and I’ve never seen her look happy. Her eyes are bright, her face glowing, and she’s . . . pretty. Like really pretty.

Tall guy is still talking to her, focused and leaning into her space. He’s got one of those butt chins.

I hate guys with butt chins.

“Stop frowning.” Jude stops beside me.

“I’m not frowning.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t frown. You get another shot at the key in a couple days. On Begonia Day!” He laughs and claps me on the back before turning his attention to the crowd. “Babies, listen up! As you all know, Saturday is my favorite day of the year: Begonia Day.”

There are scattered claps and catcalls.

Blue Falls has to be the only university that celebrates their mascot’s birthday each year with a giant party. There are carnival food and games and giant inflatable obstacle courses. All proceeds go to various charities, and there are booths and such set up on the quad next to the festivities. Begonia is our mascot, the fighting boar, although she’s not actually a boar. Just a regular pig. They keep her in a large pen and barn on campus, probably the most spoiled pig in the whole country.