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almost looked like a dust ball or a pebble. Something small and insignificant. Had this dot really powered the frog for its whole life? Jim wondered. How had this black ball told it to eat and drink and hibernate?
    Mr. Webb clucked his tongue. “Not his brain, his heart. But good job finding something in there and isolating the organ from the rest of the body.”
    “This is its heart?” Claire asked. The rest of the class turned to look at them. “How can you even tell the difference?”
    Mr. Webb grinned. “Huh, well, that’s a question better left for the philosophers and pop singers of our generation, isn’t it?”
    Jim and Claire looked at each other.
    “Keep digging,” Mr. Webb said, waving his hand at the hapless frog lying in their tray. “You’ll find the difference.”
    • • •
    As the last bell rang and Jim escaped from Geometry with Ms. Regis—and, more importantly, Shane—his phone rumbled. A text from his dad. Come right home after school today, it’s important . He studied it for a second, shocked. His dad almost never texted him, much less called him. Had he remembered what day it was? Could he actually have a birthday party planned for Jim after all?
    He started to text back when a shadow fell across the screen. Startled, he looked up and saw Gunner staring at him. Claire’s brother had her same sharp, intense features, but while her brown eyes were soft and compassionate and wild all at once, Gunner’s had a glassy sheen that made him totally unreadable.
    “You picking up some milk and eggs before the party, man?” Gunner asked, looking at Jim’s grocery bag.
    Jim blushed, fumbling with the bag before realizing he had nowhere to put it. “No, it’s because of—”
    Gunner held up his hand. “Sorry, I was just teasing you. I know it was Shane. Pranks are so middle school. That kind of prank, at least.” He stretched his back, his broad chest flexing against his tight Polo shirt. “I talked to him. I don’t think he’ll do that kind of thing again.” He cracked a smile. “Your groceries are safe.”
    Jim smiled uneasily and ran a hand through his hair. There was an intensity to Gunner that made him nervous, like Gunner was analyzing him continuously, picking him apart. “Good. Um . . . are you guys still having your party?”
    “Yeah, it’s going to be sweet. Claire wanted me to come get you. She’s waiting out in the parking lot.” Gunner jerked his head and strode down the hall. Jim looked after him, curious, before running to catch up. He watched the students clear a way for Gunner as he cut down the center of the corridor, high-fiving some guys and nodding at others. How did Gunner make more friends in a day than Jim had in a year? In ten years? Gunner turned and backed his way through the exit door, winking at Jim. The afternoon sun sparkled on his dark hair. “Wait until you see our ride.”
    “Our ride? What, like, a car?” The moment the words left his mouth, Jim remembered Claire talking about Gunner’s birthday present.
    Gunner laughed. “Yeah, a car. My mom got me a Range Rover for my birthday, and I sweet-talked her into letting me drive it today. We’d better not get into an accident or I’m screwed, since it’s not actually legal for me to drive today. But I mean, why do I need a license to sit in a chair and move a wheel around?”
    The back parking lot of Pearlton High School stretched across a downhill slope, crammed with dented cars and hand-me-down trucks that roared to life as kids filtered through the spaces and tried to get away from school as fast as possible. At the back of the lot, Jim could see the Range Rover in question, gleaming like a black pearl amid everyone else’s lesser vehicles.
    “What, uh . . . what does your mom do, exactly?” Jim asked softly.
    “You mean, why did I get a Range Rover for my sixteenth birthday?” Gunner smiled. “She’s actually a nurse. But I think our dad, before he left, you know . . .” He cleared