I pull my hair out of a ponytail and let it fall over my face. “My mom and I just had a really good talk.”

Olivia slings an arm around me. “That’s awesome. Are you going to tell her about your gram?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“I think you should make sure your gram’s not a––”

I wait for her to finish, but she clamps her lips together.

“A spy?” I finish for her.

“Sorry. I know you don’t like when I say it.”

We’re halfway to the back of the barn when Max steps out of one of the stalls. He leans the shovel he’s holding against the wall. “Hey.”

Olivia grabs the shovel before it can drop to the floor. “What’s the big thing we needed to rush down here for?”

Max hands me a paper. “This is what I found. I did a quick search when I went to walk my uncle’s dog.” He sees my look and holds both hands in the air. “Hey, it’s not my fault if he leaves the screen open and his password never changes.”

“What’s on it?” Olivia hangs over my shoulder.

I unfold the page to find a grainy picture of Gram when she was younger. Tatyana Petrov is written underneath, along with a phone number.

30. Occipital Lobe

Your eyeballs are directly connected to your brain. The occipital lobe (still not an earlobe) helps us understand what the eyes are seeing. If the occipital lobe were damaged, we could still see, but we would have no idea what we were looking at.

“Earth to Lulu.” Max waves a hand in front of my face.

“This is a picture of Gram. It’s the same as the one in her Russian passport.”

Olivia hooks her arm through mine and looks closer at the picture. “She kind of looks like you, Lulu. So weird. Do you think the phone number is Russian?”

“It definitely looks international.”

“I know what to do,” Max says. “Follow me.”

Olivia trails after Max, dragging me along. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“Dad’s office. He left to go buy a horse and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Why are we here?” I ask. He shuts the heavy wood door, and the scent of horse spray and leather fill the small, musty room. There’s a beat-up desk in the middle of the room and two spindly wood chairs on either side of it.

“I say we call the number,” Max says, hopping up on the desk and picking up the ancient tan phone next to him. “Let’s see who picks up.”

“And then what?” Olivia scoffs. “Since you’re so fluent in Russian and all.”

“We can ask for information about Tatyana Petrov,” Max says, leaning forward and staring right at me. “Come on, Lulu. I know you want more answers. This might be the way we get some.”