THAT AFTERNOON, I’m doing math homework in my room when something totally strange and unusual happens. My phone . . . actually . . . buzzes.
It’s not Mom. And it’s not Joon. It’s a text. From Liberty Silverberg.
Lib: So? How were Uncle Dan’s comics?
Stan: Good! Thanks again. Really cool stuff.
Lib: Come on, that Archie one wasn’t cool.
Stan: Archie’s cool!
I laugh and go back to math. Graphs. Slopes. Points to plot. If x, then y. I wish everything were as straightforward as math. If this specific x happens, then this specific y will exactly follow. That’s so reassuring.
But life is not like math. Life is more like: If x, then . . . WHY?
About one hour and three pieces of graph paper later, Mom knocks. Her smile seems dangerously wide.
“Hey, kiddo. I was just talking to Dr. Silverberg.”
“Um, okay?”
“Liberty told him you two are getting to be friends, and that you liked those old vintage comics of his. Then she told him about this Trivia Quest contest of yours. And so then he thought—and I thought—we all thought: Well, my goodness! Wouldn’t it be fun for you two to enter together?”
I stare at her, frozen. My stomach lurches. I don’t know what to think. Would this be better than entering alone? Or worse?
Mom’s smile falters slightly. “Well, we all know how you love comics trivia, Stannie. And Liberty could be there with you, working as a team, you know? Her uncle says she’s itching to get out more, and explore . . . Perfect, right?” She moves closer to me and lowers her voice. “Her mother is very picky about what she’s allowed to do these days, but Dr. Dan thinks she’s completely capable. And that this’ll be fun!”
My mouth can’t quite form any words. The entry form I was going to ask Mom to sign—the solo entry form—is still sitting right here on my desk.
Mom continues. “You love comic trivia; she wants a chance to get out more and explore. Perfect! Right?” She tilts her head and smiles. “Her mother is very protective, but Dr. Dan thinks he can talk her into it.”
Heat rises to my face; my chest goes squirmy.
“She’s been through a lot, that girl. Her uncle wants her to have a nice new start.”
I frown and shut my math book. “Well . . . I guess. Maybe.” I quickly glance at the application form, then back up at Mom. “Maybe we could try it. I don’t know. But there’s one thing, though: What’s this thing that Liberty’s been through? What’s the big secret about it all? I don’t get it.”
Mom’s smile kind of twists, and she shrugs. “I’m sure she’ll tell you eventually. When she’s ready. And Stanley?”
“Huh?”
“I’m proud of you for saying yes. For being brave. I have a good feeling about this!”
Well, that makes one of us.