I spot a white, sheer one with silver and opal teardrop sparkles that looks like an ethereal wedding gown dream. My fingertips graze the fabric. It’s so soft, almost like silk.

“Go for it.” Chloe presses play on a Lady Gaga song called “Hair Body Face.”

Following Sofía’s lead, I wrap it around my shoulders and start to shimmy with the beat of the song. Chloe hops aboard the ship, and the three of us dance until we can’t breathe, scream-singing that we’re perfect in each other’s eyes and about how much we love ourselves. Sofía whips her long, straight black hair over her shoulders in a display of fierce hairography. Chloe gives Naomi Campbell a run for her money with her supermodel face, and me? I am hand-on-hips, flaunting my curves.

For the first time since Jack, I feel powerful.

But this time, it’s on my own terms.

Chapter 25

25

A plume of gray smoke billows from the exhaust of the idling CIA bus the next morning. After a phone call with Mom where I get the rundown on Turkey Day at home—Taylor spent the morning with Dad and Krissy before going with Mom to see our grandparents, who of course asked if I’d gained the freshman fifteen—I meet Chloe and Sofía outside the campus center, decked in my best ski outfit.

Chloe snaps her fingers at my hot-pink ski pants and snow-white jacket with pink, yellow, and black splatter paint design. “Work! If I’d known this was a fashion show extravaganza, I would’ve worn my ball gown.”

She’s in a full one-piece tan snowsuit with a subtle camouflage print that looks like leopard spots. Sofía also has a one-piece suit, but hers is jet black with silver accents in the seams.

“My sister picked this out for me,” I say, modeling best as I can, though I probably look like a penguin waddling and flailing its flippers.

“Your sister has impeccable taste,” Sofía says.

“She’s excited to meet my friends,” I say.

“Is she coming up for the showcase?” Chloe asks, and I nod.

The bus driver peeks his head out. “Last call for Aguyack Mountain.” He stares directly at us, the last three standing.

We trudge on board and find our seats, which is easy since there aren’t that many other students on campus. As the bus is about to take off, the driver slams on the brakes to pick up some random student barreling toward the bus. He’s carrying a pair of skis and has a boot bag slung over his shoulders.

Nope, not a random.

“Is that …” Sofía begins.

Jack. “Yep,” I say.