is standing in the back door, her hands still extended as if there were an invisible soccer ball in them. She looks bewildered. “I didn’t do it!”
Mom makes a disgusted sound. “Oh, right. I’m sure the universe just plucked it out of your hands and threw it at the table!”
“But—”
“Don’t just stand there! Get a towel!”
I know she means Lucy, but Jude is a step ahead of everyone, bringing a wad of paper towels over to help sop up the mess.
“Mom!” Ellie’s voice warbles. “It’s my favorite dress!”
“I know, sweetie,” says Mom, though I can tell she’s barely listening as she checks the underside of her computer to see if there’s any juice on it. “Pru, could you help your sister get changed?”
Hearing my name shakes me from my daze. It’s just a spilled glass. It’s just a soccer ball. It’s just coincidence.
But it’s also so weird.
My fingers tingle as I release my fists and stretch them out. I go around the table and Ellie compliantly lifts her arms for me to pull the sticky wet dress off her.
“It’s my favorite,” she says, pouting. “Can it be saved?”
The way she says it is beyond melodramatic, but I can’t help feel a tug of guilt. Even though this isn’t my fault. I was nowhere near that glass of juice, or the soccer ball for that matter. Lucy really does need to learn to be more careful.
“I’ll put some Spray ’n Wash on it and we’ll hope for the best,” I say. “Go pick out something else to wear for today.”
She casts a feisty scowl at Lucy, though it goes ignored as Lucy helps Mom and Jude clean up. Ellie harrumphs and storms upstairs.
“Jude, I’m going to go throw this in the wash, then we should get going,” I say. “Last day. Shouldn’t be late.”
He nods and throws the red-tinged paper towels in the trash. “Want a bagel for the road?”
“Sure, thanks.” I head into the laundry room, grab the stain remover from the plastic tote beside the washing machine, then spread out the damp fabric. The stain runs the whole length of the dress, from just above the ear of the sparkly monkey’s head, all the way down to the bottom of the skirt.
It’s probably just my imagination, but I swear the stain is in the exact shape of a banana.
EIGHT
I’ve barely stepped through the classroom door when Mr. Chavez barks at me—“Papers on the table, please, then pick up your graded final project over there.” He points the capped end of a dry-erase marker at a pile of papers on the front table.
I pull out my report on the anglerfish and set it down on the stack with the others. As I make my way between the tables, I’m startled to see that my lab table isn’t empty. Quint is already there. Early. Earlier than me.
I freeze. I honestly hadn’t expected Quint to be here today at all, even if he had mentioned it last night. Being the last day before summer vacation, I’d assumed he’d be MIA, along with half the sophomore class and nearly all the juniors and seniors.
But there he is, flipping through a three-ring binder full of clear sheet protectors. It’s the report he turned in yesterday. Our report.
I eye him warily as I make my way to Mr. Chavez’s desk and pick up the diorama of Main Street. I scan it for some indication of my grade, but don’t see anything.
Quint glances up at me as I approach our shared table and set the model down on the corner.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
The back of my head throbs, just barely, in response to his question. It’s hardly bothered me all morning, but being reminded of my fall has me instinctively feeling for the lump on my skull. It’s almost nonexistent now.
“That depends,” I say, dropping into my seat. “How did we do?”
He shrugs and peels a large blue sticky note off the front cover of the report. He presses the paper onto the table between us.
My stomach drops as I read the words.
Prudence: B-
Quint: B+
Overall: C
“What?” I say, practically yelling. “Is this a joke?”
“I thought you might not be thrilled,” says Quint. “Tell me, is it the C that’s most upsetting or that my individual grade is higher than yours?”
“Both!” I slump forward, reading the words that Mr. Chavez has written beneath the grades. Prudence: exemplary work, but little applied science. Quint: strong concepts, but messy execution and unfocused writing. Project displays an overall