“Yep. It’s going to be our big break. Lionel Wakefield is on the panel, and he’s famous for investing in businesses that make a difference—that make the world better in some way, however big or small. So I think that’s where we should begin. Let’s diagram the investors and their personalities and interests—and what’s most likely to capture their attention in a pitch.”

“Perfect.” June drew a stick figure holding a trophy in one corner. “I have a really good feeling about it.”

Annika smiled, catching sight of her reflection in the window. She had bags under her eyes, but her jaw was set in a way she really liked. “Me too,” she replied. “It’s about time Lady Luck took our side again.”

chapter three

Some people drank, some smoked pot. Others raced ferrets or composed rude letters in their heads. Annika got her high pretzeling her limbs into odd poses.

She’d been coming to the Breathing Tree Yoga Studio for a whole year now, and she couldn’t dream of giving it up. Even when money was tight, even when the financial wolves were snapping at her heels, she set aside the monthly membership for Breathing Tree just like her grocery expenses. It was cheaper than therapy, and it took care of her body and her mind.

Yoga had started out as something Annika’s dad had talked her into, but cultivating a daily yoga practice was one of the best things she’d ever done.

As a seventh grader, Annika had entered into one of the darkest and most tumultuous phases of her life. That year, it had really sunk in that, unlike all her friends, she would never have a mother to go to with questions about her period or boys. She’d never have that nonjudgmental, unconditionally loving maternal perspective.

It hadn’t seemed like a monumental loss until that year, when hormones and other unknowable adolescent stirrings had kicked into high gear. Not knowing how to cope with something as big and awful as being a motherless teen, Annika began skipping school and smoking pot until the school threatened to expel her. Her poor dad, at his wit’s end, had suggested therapist after therapist, to which Annika had responded with typical teenage scorn. But then one Saturday, he’d dragged her to a yoga class at the YMCA and that was it. She was hooked.

Yoga didn’t bring her mother back, obviously, but it made life a lot less shitty without one. Annika fell in love with the feeling of quietness and tranquility within her soul, which she hadn’t been able to find anywhere else. She loved building her strength—loved knowing her body was resilient and healthy and able to do hard things. She’d kept with it through high school and college and couldn’t ever imagine giving it up.