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her she’d be better off in the responsible-looking office chair. She sat down carefully, folding her hands in her lap.
    Owen’s smile flickered for a millisecond, and a strange thought flashed across her mind: Were the chairs some kind of test? Did I just fail?
    â€œSo, Zoe,” he said, leaning way back in his own leather desk chair. “I was actually hoping you’d stop by. I’m hearing from Gabriel that you owe him some work. And Anya tells me you’ve been drawing pictures in Math. And Signe says she isn’t seeing anything from you. Which surprises me, because kids here typically find her inspiring.”
    â€œI’m sorry.” She’d been slumping. Now she forced herself to sit perfectly straight, which meant the back of the metal chair was digging into her spine. I definitely should have chosen the beanbag! she thought.
    Owen studied her for a long, agonizing moment. “Here’s my dilemma, Zoe,” he said finally as he leaned across his desk. “I just this minute had a phone call from a dad whose daughter is a world-class violinist. This girl wants to go to Hubbard, and I had to tell the dad thatwe’re at capacity. Which is terrific. It’s our goal, in fact. But I have to ask myself: Are we filling our Middle Division with the most deserving students? The kind who’ll make the most of everything Hubbard has to offer? Would you like a glass of water?”
    â€œWhat? No, thank you.”
    â€œOkay,” he said. “Let me make this plain, Zoe. You’re not in Lower Division anymore. Expectations have changed. It’s time to fully engage yourself in Hubbard, or else consider other options.” He pointed to a gaudy papier-mâché puppet slouching awkwardly on his bookshelf, and smiled in a way that was probably meant to be jokey. “Hey, you don’t want to go through life like that guy over there. With us, but not really animate.”
    He was calling her a puppet ? “Okay,” she said stupidly. “I understand.”
    He knit his eyebrows. “You all right, then, Zoe?”
    â€œTerrific,” she said.
    Then she got up out of the horrible chair and ran out of Owen’s office, down the hall to the third-floor bathroom, where she burst into hot, humiliated tears. The day had started so normally: Waffles—frogs—eyelashes. And now Owen was—what? Calling her names? Threatening to kick her out? Where would she even go? Some normalplace that had bells and red pens? The only school she’d ever known—the only school any of the Bennetts had ever known—was Hubbard. Even Spencer went to Hubbard Preschool! What would Mom and Dad say when they heard: Oh, Zoe, why didn’t you? Oh, Zoe, how could you? Oh, Zoe, didn’t you realize what a special, special place this was?
    She turned on the tap and flooded her face with cold water. She had to see Dara. Dara would understand everything. Just talking to her would help Zoe think straight.
    But first, somehow, she’d have to get through the rest of the morning.

8
    At lunch Zoe didn’t even bother getting her tuna-and-potato-chip sandwich. She just headed straight for Dara’s table and sat there for a few seconds, unable to talk.
    â€œGasp,” Dara said, her big gray-blue eyes looking worried. “Are you okay, Zoe?”
    â€œNo. This is the worst day in my life.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    Before Zoe could answer, Leg and Paloma came over with trays heaped with salad and sat down right next to Dara.
    â€œSorry,” Zoe said immediately. “This is private.”
    â€œHey, don’t let us stop you,” Paloma said, trading glances with Leg.
    Dara rubbed Zoe’s arm. “Oh, come on, Zoe. If it’s really important, you don’t want to talk about it here, right? I mean, not if it’s private. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
    Zoe stared at her. This was The Worst Day in Zoe’s