The Best Possible Answer(37)

From his chair while he was on duty: “Aren’t you at all curious about Professor Cox?”

As we passed in the hallway by the equipment room: “Can’t we even be friends?”

At first, I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him until he backed off. But finally, after he asked that last question, I responded with a quick reminder that it’s none of my business—not Professor Cox, not Sammie, not his desire for friendship. “Can’t you please just leave me alone?”

And since then, he has. For a good week, he hasn’t asked any more questions. I still feel his gaze sometimes, while we’re talking in groups, or if he comes into the office when I’m there. But he doesn’t talk to me anymore.

“Okay, okay, I’m covered.” Mila steps away from me and the sunscreen bottle. “The sun’s going down anyway. Can we go in already?”

She runs away from me toward the water. I spray myself as quickly as I can and follow her. Mila’s at the foot of the lifeguard chair, where Evan is on duty. Vanessa’s sitting at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water.

“You’re back!” Vanessa says to me. “I thought you were gone for the night.”

“It’s Mila’s birthday, and she wanted to go swimming.”

“I didn’t want to go swimming.” Mila crosses her arms across her chest and pouts. “I wanted to sit on the couch and watch my program.”

“You’d rather watch TV than swim?” Vanessa asks.

“It was National Geographic. They were talking about how there’s a kind of moth that lays its eggs in sloth poop. They have a symbiotic relationship. It’s gross but also cool.”

“Symbiotic?” Vanessa asks. “How old is she?”

“I’m nine today!” Mila says, beaming. And then she looks up at Evan. “Hi, Evan!”

Evan keeps his eyes on the pool, which is packed with kids.

“Will you play Marco Polo with us again today?” Mila calls up to him.

“Wish I could,” Evan says without looking down at us. “I have to work.”

Mila pouts and drops her shoulders.

“I’ll play with you,” Vanessa says.

This appeases Mila, and we all jump in.

I dive underwater, and when I come up, I can’t help but look over at Evan to see if he’s looking my way like that day in June.

He’s not.

I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.

Mila splashes water in my face. “You’re it, Vivi!”

I close my eyes and reach out to play the game.





Habits of an Effective Test Taker #4

What if you aren’t familiar with the topic, and you aren’t sure which is the best possible answer? One helpful strategy is to eliminate the extremes that are obviously wrong, and then take your best guess. This gives you higher odds of getting the question right.


Vanessa joins us for our celebratory ice cream at Scoop Heaven, this little place at the edge of Bennett Village, and then Mila and I head back up to our apartment. She’s busting to see the surprise. And after getting two texts, first at 6:45 and again at 7:15, from my mom telling me not to come back yet because she wasn’t ready, I have to say my curiosity is firmly piqued. Streamers shouldn’t take that long.

We open the door, to find the entire apartment filled with not only streamers but dozens of balloons, and there’s a giant cake that my mom’s now lighting with candles. I search the apartment for the extra surprise—the one that’s supposed to be for me—but I don’t see anything unusual beyond the fact that my mom really did go crazy with the decorations, and I’m not sure how we’re going to eat all that cake.

Mila is jumping up and down with excitement, her previous complaints silenced for good. That smile is there again on my mom’s face. It’s good to see. She begins to sing “Happy Birthday,” and she motions for me to join in.

So I do, and Mila’s beaming with excitement. She loves this attention from our mom—she’s been desperately craving it for months.

We sing the last line—and that’s when the surprise appears.

My father.

He steps out from the hallway and sings the last line with us.

He’s standing there with a huge, cocky smile on his face, singing as if he hasn’t been gone for nearly six months, as if he never left.

Mila runs to him and wraps her arms around his waist. He hugs her tight and then lifts her up into his arms. “Daddy! Daddy!” Mila yells. “You’re the best surprise of all!”

“Quick,” he says, putting her down. “Blow out your candles before they melt into the frosting.”

I look at my mom. Her smile is weak and strained. It’s not like the one she was wearing before.

I feel sick.

“Viviana,” she says coldly, “say hello to your father.”

I don’t move.

I can’t move.

My dad puts Mila down and looks at me. He opens his arms, as though I’m just going to walk into them. As if the past six months haven’t happened. As if he hasn’t already moved on from us. As if he hasn’t been living a lie.

“Come, now, Viviana,” my mom says, her voice softening. “Your father is home now—with us. He is home now, for good. Everything is fine.”