Salem’s not listening to a single word—he’s parked himself next to me with earbuds in his ears and a book open in front of him—but Sabrina and I listen with rapt attention as Maya tells us more acts we can expect to see, including a senior who sings opera, a freshman who’s rumored to be a speed-painter (no idea what that is, but assuming it’s as advertised), an impeccable hip-hop routine from the Dance Club that Kayla assures us will star Ashleigh front and center, and, incredibly, a junior ventriloquist.

“This all makes me feel very talentless,” Sabrina jokes, and I’m glad someone else said what I was thinking, but one thing I will not be doing is making myself sound subpar. I may not have a talent for the show yet, but I will come up with one. And this seems like the perfect opportunity to dig into whether Isabel and her friends have anything I can somehow glom on to.

“Does anyone else do dance routines?” I ask casually. “Or, like, a lip-syncing kinda thing?” Yes, I Googled “talent show ideas for people without talent.” Lip-syncing is shockingly popular. And also not a thing I am good at. But I figure if there’s anything I can pick up in a couple of weeks, that’s a solid one.

“God, that’s the cheesiest,” Sabrina cuts in, dragging her fork through the sauce on the plate. “When did we start pretending that required multiple brain cells?”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh, the way my cousin does it is definitely a real talent,” Heather says earnestly, turning to Kayla. “Remember those videos I showed you? She’s so good.”

Kayla nods and smiles, and all I can think is that there exists a girl so pure of heart, she proudly shows off her cousin’s lip-syncing videos, and I made out with her boyfriend.

Yeah, I’m once again the Girl Who Wasn’t Chosen, but once upon a time, I was also a Nice Girl—maybe not Heather level, but nice. Sweet. And we’re both living proof that sweet is not enough. Even if it gets the guy, it doesn’t keep the guy. Because the guy will always eventually get lured away by shameless flirting and sexy clothes and, above all, a willingness to do what the sweet girl won’t.

Even if the girls are sisters.

Ask me how I know.

“A freshman did tap last year,” says Maya. “She slipped and fell on her butt in the middle. It was not pretty. Let’s just say she does not go here anymore.”