"It's Kaelyn — 699," Mr. Liu's laugh flooded the phone line. "Say that again," Kaelyn's mother whispered, voice high with a mix of shock and something else. "Six-nine-nine. Top score in our grade," Mr. Liu said, and then he laughed again like he'd just won a private bet. Kaelyn set the watermelon slice down halfway to her mouth and blinked at the phone. The kitchen smelled of soy and summer. Her father was holding his phone, grinning like a whooped kid. "You're joking," he said to Mr. Liu, but his eyes were already wet. "I'm not joking," Mr. Liu said. "You don't understand. They post the list and—well, I ran. I ran to Mrs. Han's house. I woke her up." "You woke Mrs. Han?" Kaelyn's mother said. She jammed the phone closer to the speaker and laughed too, a small sharp sound that turned into a delighted sob. "Gosh. Our Kaelyn. My girl." "Kaelyn," her father said, standing up so fast a chair scraped. He put the phone down, then pulled her into a clumsy hug that made the watermelon slice slip and drip onto the table. He laughed, then spun, then started an old dance move from his college days, arms flailing like he meant it. He had no rhythm, and he knew he didn't, and the fact made him laugh harder. "Stop it," Kaelyn said, but her mouth had its own smile. Her mother had already started