Ash’s parents were facing the principal’s desk, not even making small talk, as Ash came in behind them. “Have a seat, Ash,” Mrs. Shepard said, pointing to a chair. Her mom turned around, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, and Ash realized something that made this whole moment even worse, if that was possible.

  Her parents had thought this conference was about Gracie.

  Mr. Lopez walked in with a tablet under his arm. He nodded at Ash and said, “Hey, kiddo,” in the dark tone you might use if someone had experienced a family tragedy. Which this was, in a way.

  Ms. Cooper arrived at the last minute, saying, “Sorry to be late. I had to trade playground duty…”

  Mrs. Shepard nodded and began. “We have a situation,” she said to the group. “It seems that there were some … irregularities at the Quiz Bowl.” She led into it gently, but there was no getting around the truth. “Ash was able to access the questions and answers in advance, so her victory was guaranteed.”

  Ash’s dad shook his head. “She cheated?” He looked at his daughter. “But … she wouldn’t need to. Sometimes we think she knows more than we do.” He smiled, but he seemed confused, and Ash’s face flushed with embarrassment. Was this really happening?

  Ms. Cooper swallowed. “Ash, how did you get the questions?”

  She might have figured it out already, but Ash was going to have to say it out loud. She looked at the floor and admitted, “I saw them in your desk. When I went to get the masking tape. And I … took pictures of them, so I could memorize the answers.”

  “I see,” said Ms. Cooper. To Mrs. Shepard, she added, “When I sent Ash to my desk, of course, I never imagined…”

  “No one imagined,” said Mrs. Shepard somberly. “This is not the behavior we expect of Quigley students.”

  Ash’s mom was quiet while her dad kept speaking. “I don’t understand. That’s not like Aisling. As I said, she’s way beyond most kids her age.” He seemed stuck on that idea.

  That was when Mr. Lopez piped up. He put his tablet on Mrs. Shepard’s desk and said, “Well, as you could see on her report card, Ash had some struggles last quarter.” He scrolled to pull it up so everyone could see.

  Ash’s parents looked at each other. “Her report card?” Ash’s mom asked.

  “It would have come in your mail,” said Mr. Lopez. “Though of course you can get the most up-to-the-minute grades in Gradebook.”

  Gradebook was a way to track kids’ grades online, and Ash knew that Caden’s parents were obsessed with it, but her parents never checked it. For one thing, they didn’t need to, at least not for Ash, and for another thing they thought of it as something that American parents did. Helicopter parents, Ash’s mom called them.

  “We’re still waiting for her report card to arrive,” Ash’s mom said.

  Ms. Cooper turned to Ash. “Didn’t you just return it, signed, this morning?”

  “Signed by who?” asked Ash’s dad.

  “By you?” Ms. Cooper said. She was thoroughly confused, and now there was another thing Ash had to admit.

  “I signed it,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  So it all came out, and of course her B minus was only the beginning. They talked about Animal Farm, and abstract thinking, and the rewrite that hadn’t happened. They talked about theorems in geometry and the way she had forged her mom’s signature. Ash might have soared at the Quiz Bowl, but now she was crashing hard.

  “What were you thinking?” Ash’s mom asked, about all of it.

  Ash took a deep breath. “I was thinking I could make it all better if I just won the Quiz Bowl,” she said, sniffling. “Everyone would remember I was supersmart, so the other stuff wouldn’t seem so bad.” It was the truth, but it felt like a lie when she said it. It was the world’s worst plan, and Ash had been sure it would change her life.

  Disappointment hung in the air like smoke. “I just can’t believe…,” her mom started to say.

  Ash’s dad shook his head. “You’ve made a hames of it, so you have,” he said to Ash.

  Mr. Lopez’s head snapped up. “A hames?” he asked.

  “A mess,” said Ash. Her dad slipped into Irish slang sometimes when he was upset.

  Mrs. Shepard cleared her throat. “There will be time for explanations,” she said. “But I brought you all here to talk about next steps. Ash has many apologies to make, and we will talk about disciplinary measures. I must say, though, that I don’t see this entirely as a disciplinary matter. It’s an opportunity to consider whether we’re giving Ash what she needs at Quigley.”

  “Agreed,” said Mr. Lopez, jumping right in. “I think we have a bigger issue here than the Quiz Bowl. I have always respected Ash’s work, and I have always loved having her in my class.” He smiled at her as warmly as possible, under the circumstances. “But there’s no need for her to be on the fast track, so to speak, forever. Maybe Ash would benefit from slowing down a bit.”

  Ash didn’t like where this was going.

  “Slow down in what way?” her mom asked.

  “Well,” said Ms. Cooper delicately, “I would welcome the chance to teach Ash all day, for instance.”

  All day with Ellie, Caden … and Tilly.

  “And we do cover the same concepts in every fifth-grade classroom,” Mr. Lopez added, “though some have the chance to get into greater depth.”

  “Sounds like we’re all on the same page here,” Mrs. Shepard chimed in. “It could be just the right time for Ash to take a step back, make sure she grasps all the end-of-year material. After all, we want for Ash to finish fifth grade strong.”

  “Step back by leaving Mr. Lopez?” her dad clarified. He was not happy.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Shepard. “Not for long, necessarily. But long enough for her to catch up and to sharpen her skills. Then we can discuss whether she’s ready for the faster pace again. Or whether she can just pick up with the advanced group at the beginning of sixth grade.”

  Mr. Lopez added, “Ash will still flourish outside my program. Ms. Cooper’s classroom is differentiated, which means that she offers appropriate challenges to each one of her students.”

  No one was asking Ash.

  Ash’s mom turned to Mr. Lopez, pushing back on his idea. “She’s really benefited from the small class size in your room…,” she began.

  “And we want her to be ready for junior high,” her dad continued. “I hear the GT program there is very challenging.” He’d heard that from Jane’s mom, Jill, who said it was one of the best in the state.

  Mrs. Shepard’s tone was patient. She gestured to the teachers and said, “I think we all feel that she’ll be in the best place if she leaves the Talent Development class for the time being.” Somehow, in that instant, there was a decision. “Let’s make sure to keep the lines of communication open.”

  Ash wondered what it would be like to be with Ms. Cooper all day long. There would be nothing for her to “catch up” to—she’d mostly be waiting for other people to catch up to her. She’d have a chance to reread the whole Narnia series, probably.

  Meanwhile, she was going to be without her GT friends or teacher—her school family, with their memories and their in-jokes and their ability to understand one another when other kids did not. Mr. Lopez’s puppy would learn to sit and stay, and Ash would never hear about it. She was being cut loose, and as she finished the week or the month or the year, whatever it was, in Ms. Cooper’s classroom, Tilly would be watching the whole time. She’d had no idea, until a few minutes ago, that this was even a possibility.

  Finally she got a chance to speak. “Do you have any questions, Ash?” Mrs. Shepard asked.

  “Well, yes,” said Ash. “I mean … is that the consequence?” If there was anything else, she wanted to know.

  Ms. Cooper sighed. She couldn’t let anyone off the hook for something so major. “I also think it would be appropriate for you to miss the field trip to Funtown,” she said with regret.

  “And you’ll need to apologize to the parent group that organized the Quiz Bowl,” said Mrs. Shepard. “They will be disappointed by the way you undermined their hard work.”

  Ash nodded because she didn’t dare to speak. She felt like she was going to throw up. She didn’t mean to undermine anyone’s hard work! Now she was going to miss her first trip to a real amusement park, maybe her only chance to try riding a roller coaster. And how could she ever apologize? The Quiz Bowl would never be the same. Long after Ash left Quigley, Mrs. Silver would still be thinking about how to keep kids from cheating their way to victory.

  Ash was allowed to go home with her parents, not that it made her feel any better. Her mom and dad were silent with shock, and Ash huddled under a blanket on the couch. Her mom sort of disappeared until it was time for her to leave for The Gate. Eventually Gracie came home, and Ash heard a murmured conversation in the kitchen before Gracie helped herself to a snack. She brought two bowls of pretzels to the living room and sat down beside Ash on the couch. “I heard what happened,” she said. “I am so, so sorry.” She handed her sister one of the bowls.

  “Me too,” said Ash. “I mean, I’m really sorry.”

  Gracie put her feet under Ash’s blanket. “So you can’t go to Funtown?”

  “No,” said Ash, shaking her head. They both knew their parents weren’t taking them on a roller coaster anytime soon. Their family didn’t do theme parks. “And that’s not even the worst thing. Did Dad tell you I have to leave Mr. Lopez?”

  Gracie thought about that. “It’s still school, Ash,” she said. “Ms. Cooper’s class isn’t, like, a vacation.”

  “I know,” said Ash. “But still.” Her sister didn’t get it. For some reason Ash thought back to this morning’s Word of the Day. Back then, she was someone special. It was as if she’d been wearing bright garb—a fancy costume—and now she was naked. Bereft.

  Their dad steered clear of them until he was rushing out the door. “Your mother will be home before dinner,” he told them. “You can have half an hour of screen time after your homework is finished.” His voice sounded normal, but he didn’t make eye contact. Ash was waiting for a zinger, and it came as he put on his coat. “I thought you were smarter than this, Aisling. Now your whole future is on the line.”

  That was the beginning of their conversation, and also the end.

  Ash bristled as the door closed behind him. She already felt so awful … would it have hurt him to be a little nicer? She pulled the blanket all the way up to her neck.

  “That’s not even true, Ash,” Gracie said. “You’ve seen him interview people to work at The Gate. He doesn’t ask them how they did in fifth grade.”

  She had a point.

  For a moment, Ash’s misery gave way to a flash of anger. She was just a kid! Kids made mistakes, some small and some big. Gracie made mistakes all the time, and no one pestered her about her future. For all Ash knew, her future might still be bright. If only she could get through tomorrow.

  Chapter Nine

  Ash stayed in her bedroom for most of the night, pretending to do her homework. Was she supposed to do her math for Mr. Lopez now? A part of her wanted to do it, just to keep up with the GT class, but another part of her never wanted to see it again. When she did look at it, the triangles and circles all blurred together. Her phone bleeped just as she’d finally given up and started drawing in her notebook. Ash had a text, and there was only one person, apart from her family, who had her number. Jane.

  Ash put the finishing touches on her sketch of a horse, making sure the mane was just right. She took a deep breath before daring to read the message, but the text was friendly enough. Jane didn’t seem to suspect anything was wrong, and if she was still upset about the Quiz Bowl, she didn’t mention it. Missed you this afternoon, Jane wrote. I did some more work on Moon Island. We’re almost ready to make some models! Ash didn’t text back. There was nothing she could say.

  Gracie gave her a pep talk on the way to school the next day. “It’s going to be fine, Ash,” she said. “Like everything else, this is going to blow over.” Anyone who overheard them would have thought Gracie was the older sister.

  “I hope so,” Ash said. Even though nothing else would be normal today, she was still early for school. She slunk past the main office with her head down and hesitated before she stepped into Ms. Cooper’s room.

  Yesterday, Ash had seen a new side of Ms. Cooper. Her smile had been pressed down into a straight line, her gaze unblinking. Today, though, the usual Ms. Cooper was back, as sunny as ever. “Good morning, sweetie,” she said when Ash arrived. “Let’s make today a good day, okay?”

  This was not at all what Ash expected. “Okay,” she said. Her eyes swam with tears again.

  Ms. Cooper’s voice was soft. “Listen,” she said. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

  “I guess so,” Ash said.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Ms. Cooper. “Don’t make this worse than it has to be. You did something wrong, and you’re going to make it right. You admitted it, and you’ll apologize. What else can you do? You can only do your best, Ash. You can only look ahead. And who knows? Maybe something good can come out of this episode. Try to keep an open mind, okay?”

  Her face lit up with a smile, and Ash did her best to match it, even though this was the most confusing advice she had ever heard.

  “Honestly, I’m thrilled you’ll be with my class all day,” Ms. Cooper continued. “You’re going to grow a good deal more than you think.”

  Ash had her doubts, but she nodded politely, and then her classmates started to arrive. Caden tried to get her attention by poking her with the eraser end of his pencil, but Ash sat stiffly, pretending to be wrapped up in her book. Only a careful observer would have noticed that she never turned a page.

  How would Ms. Cooper explain why she was switching classes? How would the other kids react when they found out? Would anyone even speak to her now? As Morning Meeting began, Ash was petrified.

  She barely hung on until the Word of the Day, her very last chance to shine. Luckily, she’d heard of a din before.

  “Din … is it dinner?” asked a girl named Charlie.

  “It’s definitely not lunch,” Caden offered, and some other kids cracked up.

  Ash raised her hand. “I think it’s a noise,” she said.

  Ms. Cooper beamed, and Ash had a millisecond of pride and relief until Tilly chimed in. “A loud and confusing noise,” she clarified.

  Her glance—and her correction—burned Ash. If Ms. Cooper didn’t say something soon, Tilly would.

  Just before it would usually be time for Ash to get up and leave, Ms. Cooper made her announcement. Her voice was super excited, like someone in the class had just won a million dollars. “Ash McNulty will be joining us for language arts and math today,” she said. “I know you’ll all make her feel welcome.” It was an invitation, not an accusation.

  “Oh yeah!” said Caden, pumping his fist in the air. “About time!”

  Ellie leaned over Caden’s desk to catch Ash’s eye. She said, “We’re way more fun than Mr. Lopez’s class. You’ll see.”

  Ash waited for the kicker. But Ms. Cooper didn’t say why she was staying, and no one even asked. People just started getting ready for language arts like nothing had happened, ruffling through notebooks and searching backpacks for their homework.

  Was that all?

  Ash felt like she was sitting on a stage, blinking in a spotlight, yet no one had bought a ticket for her show. She’d been expecting public humiliation, but Ms. Cooper kept all her mistakes private. Now Ash wondered if she’d been worried over nothing. Why would Ms. Cooper ever tell the whole class how Ash had won the Quiz Bowl? Weren’t the other consequences enough?

  She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a second. Maybe this would be all right.

  Ash had expected to be the star of a show today, but as language arts began, she realized she was more like the audience. Now that she’d be here full-time, Ash observed the class, and her classmates, with new eyes. There were kids in this room who she barely knew, and who barely knew her. They had already shared a school year’s worth of time together. How was she supposed to get to know them now, near the end of the year? In some ways, Ash was as new as Tilly. And speaking of Tilly—why was she wearing flip-flops today?

  Ms. Cooper moved to the middle of the room and crossed her arms. It had to be some sort of invisible signal, Ash thought, because the buzz of conversation stopped. “Today, friends, we are going to write a story together using our figures of speech,” she explained.

  Would she be doing figures of speech until the end of fifth grade? Ash wondered. So much for learning anything new.

  Ms. Cooper didn’t sit down, like Mr. Lopez did. She walked around the room, which kind of forced people to pay attention. “I’m going to get us started with the first line, okay? We’ll start with a bit of hyperbole—or exaggeration—and then we’ll add sentences using different figures of speech.”

  She started the story dramatically, throwing her hands up in despair. “So … this morning I overslept, I burned my toast, I put on mismatched socks, and I missed the school bus,” Ms. Cooper said. “It was the worst morning of my whole life.”

  “Sounds like every morning for me,” joked a girl named Naomi, who was sitting next to Tilly.

  “Thank you, Naomi,” Ms. Cooper said as she wrote the first line of the story on the board. “How about you add the next line? Can you give me some personif ication?”

  “Sure,” said Naomi, caught by surprise. “My dog howled when I f inally walked out the door.”

  That wasn’t right.

  Ash raised her hand, but Ms. Cooper called on Will, one of Caden’s friends. “That’s not personification, is it?” he asked. “Because a dog does howl? So you’re not, like, giving human qualities to something inhuman? You’re giving dog qualities to a dog.”