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disappointed. “What did Mr. Murphy say about it?”
    â€œWell, naturally, his wife’s family prefers to believe that Oxford—their ancestor Edward de Vere— is the true Shakespeare. And Murphy seemed quite convinced. But I asked if they’d ever come across any documents—papers, letters, anything—that supported it, and he didn’t know of any. So I suspect it will remain a mystery.”
    Her father winked at her, tugging a strand of her hair. “I must say Hero, I’m delighted by this sudden interest in Shakespeare. You know, we have plenty of books on sixteenth-century England in the study. You could do a little reading on it yourself if you’d like. I’d be happy to pull them out for you.”
    â€œOh, that’s okay,” Hero said quickly. “I was just curious because of what Mrs. Roth said.”
    â€œWell, if you change your mind ...” Her father started to leave the room but stopped at the door. “So, school went well today?”
    Hero glanced up and saw her mother turn, too, both of them looking at her with expectant smiles,their faces reflecting exactly what they hoped she would say. It really was so much easier just to say it. “Yeah, fine. The teacher seems nice.”
    â€œThere you go! You were worried for nothing.” Her father thumped the door frame. “It’s all in your attitude, Hero. That’s the key.”
    Hero smiled at him. Her father was always so clueless about her real life. She felt a strange mixture of pity and gratitude. It was good to be home, in the bright, safe kitchen, with the smell of dinner filling the air and her parents bustling obliviously just a few feet away.

    Later that night, as Hero and Beatrice crowded at the bathroom sink to brush their teeth, Beatrice demanded the real story.
    â€œOkay so what happened?” she asked impatiently. “Mom and Dad think you’re finally well adjusted.”
    Hero laughed. “Oh, it was terrible. I got stuck showing a little kid where the first-grade classrooms were, so I was late. Then, when I had to say my name, it turned out there was some girl in my class with a dog named Hero, and of course she had to announce it to everybody”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œNope. So, for the whole entire day, the other kids were whistling at me and making dog jokes.”
    Beatrice looked awed. “That’s probably the worst first day you’ve ever had.”
    â€œPretty much,” Hero answered.
    â€œAnd it’s not like they’re going to forget about the dog thing. Not any time soon.”
    â€œProbably not.”
    â€œWow, that’s rough.” Beatrice flipped off the light switch and they drifted together into the hallway, silently assessing the damage.
    â€œHow was it for you today?” Hero asked. Part of her didn’t want to know.
    Beatrice shrugged. “It was okay. I mean, I get teased too, but nothing like that.”
    â€œYou get teased?” Hero looked at her sister in amazement, feeling a small flicker of hope.
    â€œSure. Some of the boys were passing notes about me, and on the bus this afternoon, somebody behind me kept pulling on my hair.”
    â€œOh, geez, Triss,” Hero protested. “That’s because they like you. Don’t you see? That’s their stupid way of getting your attention.”
    Beatrice paused. “Maybe,” she said. “But it’s still annoying.”
    Hero shook her head in disbelief. There were few things worse than having a beautiful, popular sister. It changed the way you looked at the world. And the way the world looked at you.
    Beatrice stopped at the doorway of her bedroom. “You can sleep in here tonight if you want,” she offered.
    Hero changed into a T-shirt, grabbed a book, and padded barefoot into her sister’s room. The large windows overlooked the backyard. She could see the moonlight streaming over the trees and