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I wonder if Gina is his biological mom and what his other mom looks like. And who is his biological dad? Seems rude to ask—or even think about. Something Windy would have no problem bringing up.
I usually don’t like Nana’s fast driving, but today I want her to push the car to its limits.
The dog is shaking and keeps his tail between his back legs. I know how he feels.
Things are coming together. Correlation and causality. Things are making sense. I scribble another ratio on the pad of paper.
“I think he likes you.” That doesn’t make any sense. And the feeling is not mutual.
“I hate math.” His upper lip curls in disgust. “It bites. Math hates me, and I hate math.”
I take a deep breath and tell him my story before I lose my nerve. I want someone to understand that I might not be normal, but this—the numbers, the OCD—is my normal.
Then I hand him the oversized plastic calculator Claire keeps on the desk. I tell him to quiz me. I add, subtract, multiply, divide all the numbers he throws at me. We play this game for over 10 minutes, which is plenty of time for me to worry that I’ve made a huge mistake in telling him my secret.
We spend the rest of the day entering adoption information into the computer and collecting my own sampling. A scraggly dog sleeps on my feet. Levi complains the whole time. It might be the best afternoon of my life.
I’m also worried she might be hurt that I’m keeping something from her.
The unpopular dogs need a publicist.”
It’s weird. Ms. Fleming’s class today was the 1st time I felt like I belonged at East Hamlin. And it wasn’t because of Ms. Fleming—that’s for sure. Windy and Levi made the difference. No one has ever helped me out like that before. I’ve never helped anyone else like that. It’s different from assisting with math homework online. They could have gotten in real trouble. They might still.
Maybe math shouldn’t be the only consideration when picking a dog to rescue.
Dogs are gross and coated in bacteria and parasites—so are humans. But dogs also bite and maul, and they sense fear. They’re practically mind readers. To Murphy, I probably appear to be a trembling chew toy.
Feeling wanted beats feeling safe. So I stay.
I’m not a good judge of dogs, but based on Murphy’s drooling and intense focus, I’d guess he’d do anything—including decapitating my teammates—to get to that ball.
“We saved a life.”
“Still. Without us, who knows how long poor Murphy would have suffered in that place?”
“You don’t need to know everything,” Levi says. “If Lucy wants you to know, she’ll tell you.” Windy sticks out her bottom lip. She’s pretending to be hurt. Or maybe she actually is a little bit hurt.
After the 1st time, her words have the opposite effect.
“Middle school has been a bit of an adjustment,” Nana says. “Isn’t it for everybody?” Uncle Paul adds.
Students thrive in different environments. You can’t expect a rose to bloom in the desert. But put the rose in a greenhouse with sunlight and water, it will blossom.”
In general, I don’t mind tests. I find them boring but not scary. Some kids panic.
at this school, getting them all correct is probably the average. Not hiding my genius is like taking off a pair of sweaty old sneakers. It feels good now, but I don’t think I’m ready to toss my sneakers.
It’s hard not to be impressed by the science labs with shiny equipment, or the 3-D printers in the classrooms, or the music room where I could learn to play the harp, or the coffee bar in the student center. Windy would love a coffee bar.
I swallow the last of the Oreo. It goes down my throat like a baseball. I just started a new school. It was awful, and now it’s not so awful. I don’t know if I’m ready to do it all over again.
“Can we limit the number of pictures you take of me?” I ask, knowing he can’t be stopped. “That’s like asking me not to breathe.” “No, it’s not. It’s like asking you not to take my picture.”
Then I wonder if I should have sat next to him. Then I wonder why I’m wondering this.
Windy’s quiet, which sends a little shiver from my toes to my neck. She’s always talking, but right now she wants me to tell her more. I could keep walking. She doesn’t need to know everything about me. But she’s my friend—my best friend—and if I don’t tell her now, then when? Is there ever a perfect time to reveal that you’re a freak?
I’m already the cleaning lady. I don’t need to stick out any more.”
There’s no good way to say, I was worried you’d blab to everyone.
Lucy’s like a nervous teacup Chihuahua. She takes a while to trust someone.”
“Aren’t mutts the best dogs? Friendly and unique.” And forgiving?
“It’ll be okay,” he whispers to me. I hope he’s right.
I’m not trying to buy Windy’s silence. Well, maybe I am, a little.
“My mom is always like, ‘Do your best, Windy. That’s all anyone can ask.’ But I know if I got less than an A, she’d flip.”
it’s dumb to pretend to be something you’re not.”
Pi runs across the office and leaps into my lap. I catch him like a football. He licks my face. He’s the only animal on the planet that I’d allow this honor.
She wants to rescue animals, but she has to think about the numbers, too.
I rub his head and tell him it’s okay. But nothing is okay.
“You have to give him a chance. Please.”
What good is it being a genius if you can’t help 1 dog?
“When I was a kid, I hated it when adults told me, ‘Life’s not fair.’ I understood, but it always felt like giving up. And I was just about to say the same thing to you. Life isn’t fair.”
“I don’t care about the animals. I mean, I don’t want bad stuff to happen to them, but I don’t love them or anything. I’m more interested in the numbers. I didn’t care about Rufus, Murphy, Flint, Jesse, or any of them.” I hiccup. “But Pi. He’s different. That’s all.”
“Make sure you’re honest about his condition. It’s a tough situation. We don’t want to trick anyone into falling in love with a terminally ill dog. We have to be honest. Okay?”
Pi deserves better than my best.
I’d like to think my favorite teacher wouldn’t treat me differently if he knew, but I can’t be sure. He might demand that I be switched to a different class, claiming it’s for my own good. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.
“I feel Lucy is holding back. I know she’s new to public school. There are enormous pressures.” He smiles at me. I turn away. “Perhaps you are afraid of doing well.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid to fail or succeed in my class. Does that make sense?”
“We’d hate to see her go, but I’m sure she’ll do well wherever she ends up.
