"Come on," Tinasaid, "I heard Madame Dabney telling Chef Louis that your mom was workingon him all summer to get him to take the job. You had to hear something!"

So Tina's interrogation didhave one benefit: I finally understood the hushed phone calls and locked doorsthat had kept my mother distracted for weeks. I was just starting to processwhat it meant, when Joe Solomon strolled into class—five minutes late.

His hair was slightly damp,his white shirt neatly pressed—and it'seither a tribute to his dreaminess or our education that it took me two fullminutes to realize he was speaking in Japanese.

"What is the capital ofBrunei?"

"Bandar SeriBegawan," we replied.

"The square root of97,969 is …" he asked in Swahili.

"Three hundred andthirteen," Liz answered in math, because, as she likes to remind us, math isthe universal language.

"A Dominican dictator wasassassinated in 1961," he said in Portuguese. "What was hisname?"

In unison, we all said"Rafael Trujillo."

(An act, I would like to pointout, that was not committed by a Gallagher Girl, despite rumors to thecontrary.)

I was just starting to getinto the rhythm of our little game, when Mr. Solomon said, "Close youreyes," in Arabic.

We did as we were told.

"What color are myshoes?" This time he spoke in English and, amazingly, thirteen GallagherGirls sat there quietly without an answer.

"Am I right-handed orleft-handed?" he asked, but didn't pause for a response. "Since Iwalked into this room I have left fingerprints in five different places. Namethem!" he demanded, but was met with empty silence.

"Open your eyes," hesaid, and when I did, I saw him sitting on the corner of his desk, one foot onthe floor and the other hanging loosely off the side. "Yep," he said."You girls are pretty smart. But you're also kind of stupid."