“Wow. Looks like Hummingbird’s all grown up,” he said. Quietly, but not that quietly.

And when she glanced up, his green eyes were on her, laser focused. As if she were more interesting than any of the high school girls who were always giggling at his jokes and finding reasons to touch his arm.

As if he definitely didn’t see her the way everybody used to—as the little girl who was fast enough to swim with the bigger kids but had to move her arms and legs hummingbird-quick to keep up.

As she wrapped herself in her towel, her belly went as warm as if she’d chugged hot chocolate. Her new black suit fit differently than her other racing suits did. The straps were thin and the front dipped low enough that she could see the freckle in the middle of her chest—the one most of her shirts covered up. Her other racing suits flattened her out, but this one didn’t. And the leg openings were cut extra high, which meant her legs looked extra long.

Connor Madison had noticed.

Connor Madison, who was finishing his freshman year at the high school and was so funny and charming that even the seniors flirted with him. She couldn’t wait to tell Mia. The other day, she and Mia had agreed that Connor was the cutest boy at the pool.

Right now, Annabelle didn’t feel at all like the girl who had barely written anything on her history exam essay.

She felt powerful. Unstoppable. Extraordinary.

Chapter 3

By the next week, Annabelle had convinced herself her grades wouldn’t be that terrible.

After all, she had worked really, really hard. She’d gone to every extra help session. She’d reviewed with her tutor every day during lunch and with Mom every night at home. She’d definitely failed Mr. Derrickson’s final, but exams didn’t count for that much of the overall grades. And anyway she’d turned in all that extra credit.

On the morning that grades were scheduled to be posted online, Mom sat next to her at the kitchen table as she opened up her laptop and logged into her school account.

Her hand shook as she tried to click on the link that read, “Annabelle Marie Wilner. Seventh Grade Report Card.”

“You okay?” Mom asked, and Annabelle knew without looking that the worry line had formed between her eyebrows again. “I can leave the room. Do you want to check by yourself?”

Annabelle shook her head. The grades would be mailed home, too. It’s not like she could keep them a secret. She took three deep breaths and clicked.

And then she jerked her hand back as if the trackpad had burned her finger.

B+ in science. B− in math. C in Spanish. C in English. C− in history.

Mom gasped when she saw the grades, then covered her mouth as if she could force the gasp back in.

Three Cs. After all that work.

Three Cs on her final seventh-grade report card was the absolute best she could do.