Cora had been fat her entire life. She had been a fat baby, and a fat toddler in swim classes, and a fat child in elementary school. Day after day, she had learned that “fat” was another way to say “worthless, ugly, waste of space, unwanted, disgusting.” She had started to believe them by the time she was in third grade, because what else was she supposed to do?

Then she had fallen into the Trenches (don’t think about how she got there don’t think about how she might get back don’t do it), and suddenly she’d been beautiful. Suddenly she’d been strong, insulated against the bitter chill of the water, able to dive deeper and swim further than anyone else in the school. Suddenly she’d been a hero, brave and bright and beloved. And on the day when she’d been sucked into that whirlpool and dropped into her own backyard, on dry land again, no gills in her neck or fins on her feet, she had wanted to die. She had thought she could never be beautiful again.

Maybe here, though … maybe here she could be. Maybe here she was allowed. Everyone else was fighting toward their own sense of safety, of beauty, of belonging. Maybe she could do that, too.

Nadya was waiting on the porch, examining the nails of her hand with the calm intensity of a dam getting ready to break. She looked up at the sound of the closing door. “You’re late.” The ghost of a Russian accent lingered in her words and wrapped itself like waterweeds around her vowels, pale and thin as tissue paper.

“Miss West was in the hall outside my room.” Cora shook her head. “I didn’t think she’d be there. She’s so quiet for being so old.”

“She’s older than she looks,” said Nadya. “Kade says she’s almost a hundred.”

Cora frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Says the girl whose hair grows in green and blue all over,” said Nadya. “It’s a miracle your parents got you here before the beauty companies snatched you up to try to figure out the mystery of the girl with the seaweed pubes.”

“Hey!” yelped Cora.

Nadya laughed and started down the porch, taking the steps two at a time, like she didn’t trust them to get her where she needed to go. “I only tell the truth, because I love you, and because one day you’re going to be on the front of the supermarket magazines. Right next to Tom Cruise and the Scientology aliens.”

“Only because you’re going to turn me in,” said Cora. “Miss West told me to remind you to bring a coat.”

“Miss West can bring me a coat herself if she wants me to have one so bad,” said Nadya. “I don’t get cold.”