Shonda said, “Filler gets a bad rap because when it’s bad, it’s really bad. But most people have it, you just can’t see, you know?”

“Okay,” I said, “one syringe.”

The needle was small, but when it met my mouth, it spread pain through my face like a burn. “Perfect,” Shonda said. She wiped the blood away, handed me an ice pack, a mirror. I looked to the glass and that’s when I saw it: instant growth, instant healing, instant transformation. Like a drug, straight to the vein. And instantly, I wanted more.

I said, “What would happen if we put another syringe in?”

“Knew you’d love it,” Ella said. “The swelling is the best part.”

“For that reason, best to wait,” Shonda said. “See what you think once the irritation goes down.”

“Baby steps,” she added. “Lips should be built, but slowly, not in a day. Like followers.” I was disappointed to hear it, a little ashamed, as if everyone could tell my appetite was bottomless. But I said no problem and slid from the chair.

“Looks so good,” Ella said as Shonda walked us to the lobby and took her place behind an iPad, fixed with a credit card swiper. I had somehow forgotten we had to pay. Hanging out with Jake made me forget the cost of things. Maybe Ella would pay for me. She forked a thick black credit card between her pointer and middle fingers, then passed it to Shonda but looked at me.

“You can always get more,” she said, taking the card back. Shonda turned the iPad toward me. I owed $1,200. “I gave you our friends and family discount, Miss Anna,” she said, and winked. I fumbled in my backpack for my debit card. I didn’t have the money. But I handed the card to Shonda anyway and she swiped fast. The pad dinged and I looped my initials across the screen. Just like that, my account was overdrawn. I was entirely dependent upon Jake. I checked my phone for his name, the bubble of a text, saw only a missed call from my mom. I cleared the notification, locked the screen, and followed Ella out the door.

SHONDA’S OFFICE HAD been pink-lit, cast in a womblike glow. On the street, the sun harshed everything. We walked Roxbury Drive, ice packs pressed to our mouths, and Ella flipped her phone, filmed herself, swollen, wet with melt.

I said, “You share this?”

She lowered the phone. “Why not?”

“I guess I thought it’d be a bigger deal than it is,” I said.

“I felt that way before I got implants.”

“Wait, what?” I told her about Jake, what he’d said.