Her mother’s not one to let that kind of thing go either. When Lulu appears in the kitchen to help set the table, her mom pauses her and takes Lulu’s face in her hands. “You don’t look good,” she says. “All this staying inside. You got pale.”

“I am pale, Mom. We’re white, remember?”

Her mother shakes her head. “You should have gone away for break. At least for a week, to get some sun. You’re like me—you look better with a tan.”

“Sorry about that,” Lulu mutters.

Her mother has the audacity to look hurt by Lulu’s tone.

Dinner is awkward. Lulu listens to her fork tines scrape across the plate and the sound of water in her mouth, gulped down her throat. Her mother asks desultory questions: What time will you head back to your dad’s tomorrow? Are you excited about the new semester? Any news about college?

When Lulu’s exhausted her answers (The afternoon, at some point; Sure, yeah; No, Mom), the quiet stretches out, thick and heavy between them.

“Did you—” her mom starts. “It seems like maybe you and Owen broke up again.”

“No. Just once.”

“Okay.”

When Lulu looks up, her mother is looking at her plate. She’s taken off the day’s makeup, and her long, dark hair is pulled back from her face, and just for a moment, Lulu can see her sister in her mother’s features—not a vision, but an echo or a ripple, knowable only in motion. If Lulu spent years thinking Naomi was a stranger, she’s never even bothered to wonder about her mom.

“I got dumped by someone else,” Lulu says.

“Who was he?”

Lulu says, “She.”

“She,” her mother agrees.

Lulu takes a deep breath. So that’s it, huh.

She’s glad her mother isn’t going to make a big deal out of it or anything.

She allows herself a moment to wish it hadn’t felt like a big deal to her to say it.

She tries to imagine what it would be like to live somewhere—to know someone—she wouldn’t have to tell. Who would expect it. Who would have seen it coming, because they’d been there themselves.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lulu says.

“Okay,” her mother says again.

Lulu takes a last bite of her dinner. She chews and swallows it. “Have you ever thought about doing anything other than acting?” she asks.

“What, sweetheart?”

“I was just wondering.” Lulu shrugs.

“Not really.” Her mother touches her napkin to the corners of her lips, even though she’s not wearing any lipstick. “Even if it’s not what you’d call fulfilling these days, it certainly pays the bills.”

“Yeah. No. It just seems like it could get exhausting, being looked at that much.”