A knock on her door startles her just as the blades snap. She drops the scissors. Several blue strands fall to the floor. Her hands fly up, combing through her locks. What did she do? She checks the mirror, closes her eyes, and sinks to her knees, grateful she missed.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?” It’s her dad.

Heather opens her door, stands in the threshold, blocking him from entering her room. If her dad has something to say, he can do it from the hallway.

He rests his hand on her doorjamb. “I want to talk with you.”

Heather doesn’t move. She catches a glimpse of her mom listening at the top of the stairs.

“When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong, and I was wrong,” her dad says.

She answers with a blank stare. How can she respond when she doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about?

“Your mom and I looked into that assignment. You’re right. It goes against our family’s values.” He stops talking. His eyes appraise Heather’s hair, appraise her. “As I said, when I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. You’re not grounded anymore.”

It’s not an apology, but close enough. Heather bites back a smile and nods.

Her dad answers with his own nod, then turns around and goes back downstairs. Her mom follows, but only after she grins at Heather and blows her a kiss.

Chapter 45: Logan

I check my phone. It’s been forty-two minutes since I last went online. After reading the same paragraph in The Glass Menagerie three times, I consider getting up and giving Dad my laptop. It keeps calling to me like the shiny poisonous red apple that tempted Snow White. I really have to finish this play for AP Lit and Composition, but it’s so…mundane.

Don’t bite. Ugh. I’m as weak as Snow. I sit at my desk and refresh Bethany Beshett’s first article. This can’t be right. I refresh the page again. And blink.

There are over 10,000 shares and 824 comments! It links to Bethany’s other article on Commissioner Munro’s response, and those numbers are close behind.

“Dad?” I push my chair away from my desk and open my bedroom door. “DAD!”

We nearly collide outside his bedroom. “What is it?”

“It’s gone viral. We’ve gone viral. The assignment. The article. You gotta come see this.” I motion for him to follow me into my room.

“Is that right?” he asks, pointing to the numbers.

“Seems that way.” I Google our names. There is a long list of articles. The articles have gone viral! It’s stunning, terrifying, and thrilling. I begin at the top, bringing up a new window for each. Many are a version of Bethany’s article, linking back to hers. No wonder her numbers are so high!