4

The next day, Ted held his breath as Ms. Stevenson walked through the rows of desks, handing back the graded tests one by one. The only thing scarier than test day was the day that you got your test back. The only thing scarier than that was knowing that your grade could make or break your social life.

No pressure, thought Ted.

He watched his classmates’ faces as they saw their grades.

Over her shoulder, Ted could see that Nina had gotten 50 out of 50. He wasn’t surprised. She was good at everything.

Jenn let out a happy whoop. “I got a forty-nine! Not bad.”

Adam gave her a high five. “Same. What are the odds?” He lowered his voice. “I must have misread number eighteen when I copied the answers from the picture. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, no complaints here,” Jenn said with a shrug. “What did you end up getting, Ted?”

Ted looked down at his test paper, still facedown on his desk. “To be honest, I haven’t looked.”

“I could look for you, if you want,” Adam offered.

Ted nodded and passed him his test. Inside, his stomach was doing an unhappy version of the conga. He watched Adam’s face, trying not to look at the reflection of his test in Adam’s glasses.

Adam’s nostril’s flared slightly.

Oh no.

“How bad is it?” Ted asked.

Adam paused, and then cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, not your finest work.”

Jenn grabbed the test from Adam. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Ted,” she murmured.

Ted grabbed the test from Jenn.

Oh, Ted, he thought.

He had gotten a 17 out of 50. Ted had never realized how much he disliked looking at the numbers one and seven. The number one was just a scratch on the page—lazy. There was no imagination to that one. Next to it, the number seven just looked like a failed triangle.

No, he thought. It’s me. I’m the failed triangle.

“Hey, cheer up,” said Adam. “It could have been worse.”

Ted put his face down on his desk. The fake plastic wood was cool and comforting against his forehead.

“Adam, he’s face-planting,” said Jenn.

In Ted’s mind, what was supposed to be his first interaction with Nina at the diner that night warped and blurred, like that one time when he tried on Adam’s glasses.

“Incoming,” hissed Adam.

Ted heard footsteps, and then he could smell Ms. Stevenson’s perfume—something with flowers—somewhere close by. He straightened up to see Ms. Stevenson standing over his desk, looking concerned.

“Ted, are you all right?”

Behind Ms. Stevenson, Ted saw Nina raise her eyebrows.

“I’m fine,” said Ted, “just, um, tired.”

“Okay.” Ms. Stevenson fixed her brown eyes on his. “Just so you know,” she said quietly, “if you are ever interested in coming by at lunch to go over this test, my door is always open.”

Ted swallowed. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”

Ms. Stevenson smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

The bell rang.

Ted shoved the graded test deep into his backpack and followed Jenn and Adam out of the classroom.

They headed over to Jenn’s locker, dodging a janitor pushing a mop and a wheeled bucket toward the bathroom down the hall.

“I can’t believe that worked, Adam,” said Jenn, twisting her combination into the lock and pulling the locker door open.

“It’s amazing what you can do when luck meets laziness,” Adam replied.

“Just out of curiosity,” said Ted, “how did you do it?” He paused. “The cheating, I mean.”

Jenn whipped around, soccer bag in hand. “Shush!”

“Relax,” said Adam. “Nobody’s listening.” He slipped his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small strip of paper. “I wrote mine on here.”

“I made one of those too,” said Jenn, “but I also had a backup.” She tugged up her shirtsleeve, revealing three faint rows of letters written on her skin. “My soccer tan came in handy. Less contrast.”

“That’s awesome,” said Adam. He gave Ted a playful nudge in the side. “Good thing you didn’t try that, Ted. Ms. Stevenson would have seen that from a mile away.”

“Maybe,” Ted replied. “Or maybe I would have gotten better than a seventeen out of fifty. My mom is going to be so mad.”

“Hey,” said Adam, “maybe she won’t care! You should just tell her. You never know, dude.”

Jenn closed her locker door and turned the lock. “I know you’re bummed right now, so I’m not going to say we told you so. Just know that I am thinking it.”

“She’s nicer than I am,” teased Adam. “We told you so. You totally should have cheat—”

Jenn smacked him on the arm.

“Hey!”

Ted snorted. “Thanks, guys.”

Maybe I should have, he thought.

* * *

There is never a good time to tell your mom that you failed a test right after she asked you to try harder in school, so Ted told his mom at dinner, halfway through a bite of chicken salad.

She put her fork down. “You got a what out of fifty?”

Ted swallowed his food and repeated himself.

“Ted, kiddo, we just talked about putting more effort into your grades.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I—”

“No,” his mom said, interrupting him. “I’m sorry. I should have been stricter with you. Dancing around this clearly did not work.”

“Mom, it’s not about that at all,” said Ted. “I did try. I’m just really bad at this, all right?” He picked up his plate. “Look, can we just wait and talk about this after I come home from Adam’s recital and the diner?”

“No,” said his mom. “You are not going out to Adam’s recital or the diner tonight. You are going to stay here and you are going to spend some time with your other schoolwork.”

“But Mom, I already told Adam and Jenn that I would go. And there’s this girl I wanted to see tonight—”

His mom shook her head. “No, Teddy. Your friends and your drawing have clearly been too much of a distraction for you. I know I’ve never done this before, but seventeen out of fifty is just not okay. You’re . . . what’s the word?”

“Grounded?” Ted asked.

“Grounded. Yeah. That’s it. You’re grounded.”

* * *

Ted closed his bedroom door behind him, flicked off the lights, and flopped onto his bed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent Jenn and Adam a text in their group chat.

Grounded. Stuck here tonight. She is so mad . . .

He let the phone drop onto his bedspread and stared up at the blotchy water stain on his ceiling. It looked like one of those blob fish from the nature channel.

Ted’s phone buzzed with messages from Adam. In the dark, they lit up the screen, one after another.

Dude. Seriously? Tonight’s the recital. Are you really not coming? You know I get nervous up there!

Jenn joined in, sending a poop emoji.

That’s what it’s going to feel like sitting next to your empty seat tonight, Ted. Don’t bail on him. Or me! And what about Nina? Tonight could be your chance!

Ted felt like his thumbs were moving through butter as he typed back.

I’m sorry, guys. I really am.

He watched Adam type, stop, retype, and stop again.

K. Fine. See you later, Jenn.

Jenn sent back a thumbs-up emoji, and then Ted’s screen went dark again.

No more texts—just Ted’s heartbeat punching into his ribs, and the blob fish water stain on the ceiling.

Great, he thought. Now everyone is mad at me.

Ted usually looked forward to Fridays, but tomorrow was going to stink—everything from an awkward car ride with his mom to Adam and Jenn most likely ignoring him. And he’d still be stuck admiring Nina from afar since he’d miss his chance to talk to her at the diner.

Ted yanked one of the pillows off of the bed and threw it across the floor, hoping it would make him feel better.

It didn’t. Ted stared at the pillow on his floor, a sad lump of cotton and feathers, and felt like the loneliest person in the world.

I wish I had cheated with them after all, he thought. None of this would have happened.

That’s when Ted’s phone made a funny little bleep noise, one that he hadn’t heard before.

That’s weird, he thought. I always keep my phone on vibrate.

Ted squinted down at text message on the screen.

Would you like to have a do-over? Reply with YES or NO.

It wasn’t in the group chat. It wasn’t from Adam or Jenn at all. The message looked like it was from an unknown number.

A do-over, thought Ted. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Ted yawned. The text made no sense, but his eyes were probably just tired from the long day. In fact, all of him was tired. Through half-closed eyes, Ted watched his thumb slowly flick the letters y, e, and s into the reply box. He hit the send button, rolled over, and let himself fade into sleep.