“The Beatles,” she said, remembering how her family had played that song on a car trip last summer. It felt good to know the right answers, even if she’d learned them the wrong way. As the number of contestants dwindled, Ash felt a familiar flush of accomplishment. This was the feeling she’d been missing. Right now, she didn’t Need Improvement at all.

  Jane was impressive with her knowledge of old movies. “Titanic won Best Picture in 1998,” she said def initively.

  But Lane slipped up on the name of the actor who played Jefferson in Hamilton, and suddenly it was down to the three fifth-grade girls and a fourth-grader named Ben.

  Ash looked at her family again. They weren’t chatting with Jill anymore but sitting quietly, focused. They would be so proud of her. They would tell her grandparents all about it, and soon everyone in their town in Ireland would know. Ash dared to imagine herself sharing her report card, maybe even telling her parents the truth about what was happening in school. After tonight, they wouldn’t be mad, right? Gracie whistled and yelled, “You’ve got this, Ash!”

  Jill was literally on the edge of her seat, as if everything depended on Jane’s next answers. Maybe it really did, Ash thought, remembering those college books Jane had showed her. What happened to kids who only got second place?

  Suddenly Ash wondered if Tilly’s family was here. Who was cheering her on? Now that the end of the Quiz Bowl was closer, Ash was feeling generous. She peeked over at Tilly to give her an encouraging smile, but Tilly was staring at her strangely again. In her T-shirt or pajamas or whatever it was, Tilly looked as if a breeze might carry her away.

  Ms. Cooper said, “Our next category is sports,” and Ash’s heart sank. Under normal circumstances, this was not her strongest category—but luckily these circumstances were not normal. Ash straightened up.

  Tilly knew the name of the Olympic swimmer who had won the most gold medals ever. Jane knew the last winner of the Triple Crown. Ash named the field events in a track meet, though she pretended it took a minute to remember them. “Javelin … discus … and shot put,” she said. And then it was Jane’s turn again. The audience grew quieter as the tension rose in the room. Mrs. Shepard could say whatever she wanted, but this was definitely a competition.

  “Which sports make up a biathlon?” Ms. Cooper asked Jane.

  Jane said three sports: “Biking, swimming, and running.” Did she not hear the question? Jane, of all people, knew that bi- meant two. As in bicycle, with two wheels, or binary, her favorite kind of code, with only two digits. And when Ms. Cooper prompted, “Is that your final answer?” Jane didn’t backtrack. It was like she didn’t realize she needed a lifeline, to borrow from one of the quiz shows Ash had studied on TV.

  “I’m afraid that’s incorrect,” said Ms. Cooper. “The biathlon is a winter sport that combines cross-country skiing and rifle shooting.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said, “I meant…” But it was too late. Ash kind of brushed her elbow as she stood up, but Jane shook her off. She wasn’t even second place.

  Meanwhile, Ms. Cooper was ready with a new category. “We’ll finish with some geography questions,” she said, and Ash hoped this wouldn’t go on for too long. With Jane out of the mix, she could practically taste her victory.

  But it turned out that Tilly had some serious map skills. She knew the longest river in Africa, the capital of Peru, and the real name of the Garden State. Ash identified Japan’s main island, the European country shaped like a boot, and the capital of Minnesota. They were evenly matched, Ash had to admit. It didn’t sound like Tilly’s old school was that great. How did she know so much?

  A few families tiptoed out of the gym with sleepy younger siblings, but the Quiz Bowl continued.

  “Which river runs through Baghdad?” Ms. Cooper asked Ash.

  Again, she pretended to think. “That would be the … Tigris?” she said.

  “Very nice,” said Ms. Cooper, forgetting for a moment that they weren’t in her classroom. Tilly frowned at this breach of protocol, and maybe she was still thinking about it when Ms. Cooper came at her with another challenge. “Please name all the Great Lakes.”

  Ash guessed that Tilly was trying to remember that handy mnemonic device everyone learned at some point. But if you couldn’t remember the word HOMES, you weren’t going to remember all the lakes, and Tilly didn’t. “Um … Lake Superior, Lake Erie, Lake Michigan…,” she said, and she couldn’t go any further. In spite of her strong start, Tilly just faded away.

  After that, the rest was a blur. Fourth-grade Ben was gracious when he stumbled on his second question, and the audience erupted, first for him and next, more loudly, for Ash. The repeating champion! She walked to the center of the stage to shake Ms. Cooper’s hand and accept her prize, a plush snowy owl with wire-rimmed glasses. Mrs. Silver led the crowd to its feet for a standing ovation, and Ash felt like they were applauding for more than just this one night. They were applauding because she was—and always had been—one of Quigley’s stars.

  It was her night. It was exactly what she’d hoped for, and more. From here, she could rebuild what she’d lost. She could talk to her parents. She could hold her head high for the rest of fifth grade. She could almost cry with relief.

  There was only one problem. When the McNultys left the gym, there was still a kid outside in the shadows, waiting for a ride home. It was Tilly, with her arms wrapped around her chest in the growing cold. Ash passed by, following her family, and offered sincere congratulations. “Great job!” she said brightly.

  Tilly scowled. “Yeah, thanks,” she said without returning the compliment.

  Then she lowered her voice, narrowed her eyes, and said something only Ash could hear: “I know what you did. I know how you won.”

  Chapter Six

  One time in PE, someone had passed a basketball to Ash when she wasn’t paying attention. Suddenly it slammed into her stomach and she was gasping on the ground. That was when Ash learned what it meant to have the wind knocked out of you. It wasn’t just that you were out of breath—it was that all the air was squeezed out at once, in one big gush, and it really hurt. That was exactly how Ash felt now, with Tilly’s words echoing in her ears.

  In PE that time, Ms. Patterson had stopped the game while Ash staggered to her feet, and the other kids had stood in a circle around her to make sure she was okay. But no one else had seen or heard Tilly, and Ash’s family thought she was more than okay right now. They thought she was on top of the world!

  It was dark now and much cooler than it had been earlier. The McNultys walked down the school driveway together, heading toward home. “You did it!” Gracie shouted, doing a little dance. “Two years in a row!”

  Ash’s mom slung her arm across Ash’s shoulders. “Nicely done, Aisling,” she said quietly. Her praise felt important, and Ash leaned into her mom for warmth.

  The whole way home, Gracie kept up her recap. “How did you know all those things?” she asked. “I felt so bad for Jane. And what about that new girl? Tilly? Even I can name the Great Lakes!” Ash didn’t want to think about Tilly right now. She didn’t want to think about anything if she could help it. She listened to her sister and squeezed her snowy owl, the identical twin of the one she’d won last year. Within fifteen minutes of arriving home, she was asleep.

  When she woke up, Ash was happy. Well, at least until she sank back into her pillows, remembering the end of last night. People might think she was some sort of genius now, but Ash could not believe she had been so stupid. She had no idea how Tilly knew the truth. No one had been nearby when she found the answers; Ash was sure of it. She retraced her steps in her mind, but she came up with an empty classroom every time. What would happen if Tilly told? As soon as Monday, people might know that Ash was a cheater and a fraud. And the big news wouldn’t just be that she, Ash McNulty, had stolen the answers and basically lied to the whole school. The bigger news would be that Ash McNulty was never that smart in the first place. Who ever would have guessed?

  Ash hugged her owls and tried to calm down. What can Tilly really do? she asked herself. Would Tilly accuse her after she’d been at Quigley for only a few days? And, if she did tell, would anyone believe her? There wasn’t any evidence, since Ash had deleted the photos. And Tilly was so new that people wouldn’t trust her. Maybe this isn’t a major disaster, Ash thought. So she got out of bed, arranged her owls on top of her dresser, and went downstairs for breakfast. The bright morning sun lit up the whole front hallway and, for the first weekend since she didn’t know when, Ash wouldn’t have to memorize any random facts today. Knowing that gave Ash a burst of energy, almost as if she’d had a shot of espresso.

  Saturdays were complicated in the McNulty household. Ash and Gracie were old enough to walk to school alone, but they weren’t old enough to stay home alone all day. Since Saturday was the busiest day of the week at The Gate, Ash’s parents took turns going to work.

  Soon her dad would leave to run the morning staff meeting, but he was unpacking the dishwasher when Ash walked into the kitchen. “I can’t wait to tell the crew about the Quiz Bowl,” he said. “Bet you could teach them a thing or two at the pub’s Trivia Night.” His eyes sparkled with pride, and Ash wasn’t sure if he was even serious. Did he actually think she could compete against grown-ups? “Maybe if you’re on my team…,” she said doubtfully.

  Ash ate some cereal, then got dressed. Most Saturday mornings, she and Gracie went to the farmers’ market with their mom. This time of year, it was inside an old brick building that used to be a paper mill, with vendors’ stalls under soaring arched ceilings. There weren’t a lot of fresh fruits or veggies in the cold months, but there were plenty of farmers selling local foods like bread and cheese, not to mention all kinds of crafts. While their mom chatted with vendors and scouted out ingredients for the new spring menu, Ash and Gracie loved to roam on their own, trying all the free samples.

  “I’ll meet you right here in twenty minutes,” her mom said when they arrived at the market. She was already eyeing some golden beets. Ash nodded, inhaling the scents of celery and cinnamon. This week, she and Gracie sampled tiny cups of cider and dipped cubes of bread in fancy salad dressing. Ash dared Gracie to try a pickled pepper. “It’s so sour!” Gracie said, spitting it into a napkin. The girls rounded a corner and headed to one of their favorite stalls, where a farmer sold socks and mittens woven from alpaca fur. Ash had never been able to talk her mom into buying them, but she and Gracie always tried things on.

  Gracie was modeling an alpaca cape when Ash realized that Mrs. Silver was standing right behind them, her shopping bag loaded with leafy greens. She petted a pair of soft mittens before her eyes landed on Ash. “Oh, honey,” she cooed. “You were just spectacular last night! I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re a walking encyclopedia!”

  Ash beamed. She liked remembering the good parts of the Quiz Bowl. “Thanks,” she said modestly. “Sammy did a great job, too.”

  Mrs. Silver waved the compliment away. “He did his best,” she replied. “But seriously—have you ever thought of trying out for Jeopardy!?” Naturally, Mrs. Silver knew just how to go about it. She was midway through her lengthy instructions when she spotted Ash’s mom in the next aisle.

  “Clare!” exclaimed Mrs. Silver, her voice ringing out across the market. “You must be so proud!” She nodded in Ash’s direction and added, “What a star! Your Aisling is really going places!”

  On a normal day, Ash’s mom would have hurried away while trying not to be rude. She was always afraid that Mrs. Silver would rope her into organizing a potluck supper or something. Today, though, her whole face lit up. “Thanks, Elena,” said Ash’s mom. “It was quite a night.” She stood there quietly as Mrs. Silver told her about the Jeopardy! prizes.

  Ash stored up Mrs. Silver’s compliments and her mother’s pride as eagerly as she’d stored up the answers for the Quiz Bowl. A voice in her head whispered Tilly from time to time, but it was easier to drown it out when she was being praised. After all, this was exactly what she’d won for.

  Her dad was in charge for the afternoon, and he took the girls on some errands before he dropped Gracie off for her Saturday soccer practice. They went to the post office, the grocery store, and the dry cleaner. Ash even went along for the ride when her dad dropped Gracie off for soccer. Then, as the van rolled into the gravel parking lot at the Dome, Gracie said, “You should come and see me play!”

  “Parents come to practices?” Ash’s dad asked. The whole family was still learning the ropes.

  “I think so,” Gracie said. “I mean, there were tons of parents at the first one. People cheer for their kids and sometimes help with the coaching.” They all understood what she meant: American parents.

  Ash had never been inside the Dome, though she had heard people talk about it for years. It didn’t really seem like her kind of place. But Gracie had cheered her on last night … “We should go.” Ash nudged her dad. “That way we’ll know what to do when there’s actually a game.”

  She led the way through a revolving door and felt her ears pop with the air pressure when she emerged into the Dome, which was kind of like a landlocked blimp. The light inside was dim, and the noise was deafening. A couple of teams were competing already, and Gracie was right about the parents. They were even louder than the coaches, shrieking, “Now, Jenna! Take it up the line!” and “No … no … offsides…” and “Shoooot!” Ash was totally out of her element.

  When Gracie joined a group of girls dribbling balls around orange cones, Ash settled with her dad in a narrow space by an air vent. It didn’t take long to notice that Gracie wasn’t keeping up with the others. Sometimes she’d lose control of the ball and have to run after it. Sometimes she’d pass it to the wrong girl. And when the team practiced shooting on the goal, Gracie never seemed to make it in. Ash sighed. She wondered, again, why her parents were letting Gracie do this. What if she was wasting her time? Gracie’s grades weren’t great, and soccer didn’t seem to be her thing, either. Did she ever wish for a big win, like Ash’s? She wouldn’t want Gracie to be jealous, but she did want Gracie to care. She wanted her sister to be a girl who was going places, too.

  By the time the practice was over, Gracie’s face was red and her hair was slicked back with sweat. Ash would have been upset after making so many mistakes, but Gracie just took a long swig from her water bottle and said, “I can’t believe I have to wait three whole days to come back here!” Ash didn’t get it.

  “Hey, when are we picking up Jane for movie night?” Gracie asked in the car on the way home. Most Saturdays, Jane came to the McNultys’ for a movie and a sleepover. But it was too awkward to have Jane over tonight, Ash had decided. If their places were switched, Ash probably wouldn’t want to hang out, and the last thing she wanted to do was review every moment of the Quiz Bowl. Or do more research about moons.

  “Oh, she was busy,” Ash told Gracie. The lie just slipped out of her mouth before she could do anything about it. Now that she’d started lying, would she ever be able to stop?

  Sleepovers with Jane always involved ice cream, and Jane’s favorite flavors had a “core” inside—a different flavor at the center of the container, like caramel buried inside vanilla. If Ash were a pint of ice cream, she’d be like one of those. On the outside, she was a flavor everyone loved—say, chocolate. Inside, though, there was a new core of something sour, like pickled pepper. The whole point of winning the Quiz Bowl was to stop having secrets, but now there were new secrets about the Quiz Bowl, and they made Ash feel like she was going rotten.

  When the end of the weekend arrived, Ash sat down at her desk and cleared away a stack of Trivial Pursuit cards. Then she opened her backpack and took out her assignment notebook.

  Animal Farm rewrite was the first thing on the list. Well, at least she could cross that one off. No need to do that now, or pretend she wanted to, since she had won the Quiz Bowl. Now Mr. Lopez would know she was smart enough to see the metaphors, even if she had messed up on the essay.

  It was the next item that left her feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her all over again. Report card.

  Yes, it was still in her closet, in a bin with some stuffed animals, and for a couple of days Ash had forgotten all about it. Now she pried the cover off the bin and lifted out a gray bunny who had probably never expected to help her hide anything. Ash unfolded the report card and looked at it again. The B minus shone as if it were printed in neon, and when the honor roll was finally posted in the school’s front hallway, Ash knew the absence of her name would glow even brighter. How could the winner of the Quigley School Quiz Bowl miss the honor roll?

  Ash was out of excuses. She had to bring this report card, signed, to school. But there was just no way she could show it to her parents, even after putting it off for all this time. Why hadn’t she thought this through? They were extra proud right now, and if they saw this report card they’d be crushed. Ash herself was crushed. This wasn’t who she wanted to be. It wasn’t who she was!

  She wouldn’t get it signed by a parent. Because now that she was on a lying streak, she had a new idea. It wasn’t smart, but she was in survival mode.

  She would sign it herself.

  It was so easy to scrawl her mom’s name in black pen—it didn’t look like real words, but her mom’s real signature didn’t, either. Ash stuffed the report card in the front pocket of her backpack and zipped it as tight as she could. Once she delivered it to school, everything would go back to normal.

  On Monday morning, Ash took so long to get ready that Gracie left without her, and Ash arrived at Quigley at the same time as four school buses full of kids. She glanced around anxiously, but she didn’t spot Tilly in the crowd. Once people noticed Ash, they treated her as if she had won a gold medal. Caden stopped traffic when he spotted her, pausing to do a mock bow and say “All hail!” on his way up the stairs. “Great job, Ash!” one of Gracie’s friends yelled over his head. “You rock!” said Olivia, who had missed everything but clearly been filled in.