I was in shock. I couldn’t move, and I felt like I was frozen in place. But when my mom moved to open her book again, I forced myself to act. I had to do something—before it was too late.

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” I finally said. “No. Sorry, Mom. No. Just…no.”

“Camilla—” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.

“No, listen, if you don’t let me go to this cookout tomorrow, then this weekend will be a complete wash. I won’t be remotely productive studying. I’ll just be up in my room, sitting there, thinking about everything I’m missing. I won’t be able to retain any calculus.”

“Sweetheart—” she said wearily, but I cut her off again.

“But! If you let me go on the date, I promise I will do absolutely nothing but study all day Sunday, and all of Monday night! I’ll be a calculus machine! I swear. I promise! Mom, please!”

My mom gave me a long look, frowning as she scanned my face.

I heard footsteps coming up from the basement, and I looked over to see my dad emerging from the door.

“Hi, Porpoise. I heard you come in. What’s all the yelling about?” he asked, looking between me and my mom.

I took a deep breath. “I got my calculus grade today, and it wasn’t…great—”

“She’s failing,” my mom clarified.

“Okay, so not great, like I said. But Mr. Moss is going to let me retake the final on Tuesday, which I am planning on being very, very prepared for. But Eric Evans finally asked me out for the cookout tomorrow, and I really, really, really want to go—”

“And I think she should be home studying for this final,” my mom put in.

“But I swear, if I don’t get to go out tomorrow with Eric, there’s no way I’m going to be able to study,” I went on, pleading with my dad. “And after I get back from the date, I’m going to hit the books so hard they won’t even see it coming. I’ll be all calculus, all the time, I swear. Dad—please.”

My dad looked at me for a moment, then turned to my mom. “Lara, I think Camilla’s right—”

“What?” my mom and I gasped at the same time.

He nodded. “We should let her go. I think she’s right—she won’t get any work done if we force her to stay home.”

My heart leapt, and I felt a glimmer of hope as I watched my dad. He was looking at my mom, and she was looking right back at him. They seemed to be having some kind of conversation with just their eyes.

I pushed down the exasperated sigh rising up in my chest. I really hated when my parents did this. They were so in sync and knew each other so well, they barely had to speak to understand each other.

They were always doing this to me, too. Before I had learned to read, they had spelled things out when they didn’t want me to know about them. That worked well enough, but I was a very early reader, which I kept to myself so I would know when we were going to the park, or when it was time for bed, or when they were making P-E-A-S for dinner, so I could be prepared.

But once they caught on that I could understand them, they switched to this telepathic system, which I’d found much harder to crack. But I tried anyway.

I looked over at my mom, and she still looked frustrated. When I checked out my dad, his expression was much calmer, and he might have been trying to get her to think more rationally. They were both big on thinking rationally.

When you hear galloping, think horses, not zebras, they always reminded each other.

Finally my mom heaved a gusty sigh and looked over at me. “Okay, Camilla, you can go to the cookout with Eric—”

“I can?” I gasped, my heart beating a mile a minute.

She nodded, looking resigned. “But then you will make studying for that calculus final your only priority from Sunday until the test. Are we agreed on that?”

“Yes!” I burst. “Yes, I totally promise. I will think only about calculus, I swear.”

“Okay, okay,” my mom said, giving me a small smile as she turned back to her books. “Why don’t you go get started now, then.”

“I’m going to go up right now,” I promised, and ran toward the stairs.

Still feeling elated, I threw open the door to my room. Then I stopped in my tracks and nearly screamed, because my room was not empty.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I gasped.