“You’re quiet today,” Fina says at lunch. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Totally fine.”

“Did you have another dentist appointment this morning?” Ruby asks. “Do you have a cavity or something?”

“No,” I say slowly, trying to decide what to tell them. “I—”

But just then Fina’s head cocks to the side. She’s staring at me.

“What’s that?” She points to my mouth.

“What’s what?” I ask, running my fingers over my lips, feeling for sandwich crumbs. But there’s nothing.

“You have this little white spot,” she replies, “right there at the corner of your mouth.”

My heart stumbles, then falls, like a runner who’s just been tripped.

“Um,” I murmur, “I don’t know. I—I need to go to the bathroom.”

I whip out of the cafeteria, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Please, no, I think. Please let it be a spot of sunscreen. I check to make sure no one else is there, and then lean close to the mirror above the sink.

There it is. My newest spot, hovering just above the left corner of my lip.

Tears spring to my eyes.

I can’t hide my mouth with a strategic haircut—unless I want to become a bearded lady. Why is the vitiligo spreading so quickly? Why does it have to be on my face? Why me at all?

A really mean thought crosses my mind.

Which is that I wish this were happening to someone else. Anybody else but me.

“Emma?” calls a voice. Fina is standing in the doorway, Ruby right behind her. “Are you okay?”

For some reason, her question makes my tears multiply. “Um,” I say, my chin all wobbly, “I don’t really know.”

In an instant, Fina is there with her arm around me, hugging me tight. Ruby stands just to the side, watching wide-eyed and biting her lip as I cry.

“It’s okay, Emma,” says Fina. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, I swear!”

I’m not sure how she knows this, because she doesn’t even know what’s wrong yet. But it still helps me to stop crying. And then instead of tears spilling out, it’s words.

I tell both of them about seeing the first spot at Gram’s funeral and then the next ones in the dressing room at the mall. I tell them about seeing Mom’s face out in the hall with Dr. Howard, and how I knew then that I really did have vitiligo.

Fina nods as I talk, and Ruby’s frown grows deeper and deeper until she wears a panicked look, like I’ve just told her that I’m dying.

“Oh my god,” she says when I’m finished. “That’s awful, Emma. I’m really sorry.”