After having paced the yoga studio a number of times and making sure the blocks and resistance bands had been stowed away carefully in the cupboard for the umpteenth time, she took herself off to the empty locker room and gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps it was logical that Mia hadn’t recognized her because she looked nothing like the frightened teenager Mia had found such great pleasure in taunting fifteen years ago. Whereas she had been gangly, skinny, and unsure what to do with the too long limbs she carried around back then, now Lou was the kind of tall that went well with the broad shoulders garnered from doing a million downward-facing dogs and headstands. Her muscles had filled out and she moved her arms and legs with purpose.

Lou was probably the only one who could still see that gangly girl when she glanced at herself in the mirror. A girl riddled with spots on uneven, ever-oily skin, with a pair of glasses that kept sliding down her nose, and a skin color that seemed to offend so easily, so ludicrously, whereas up until she was fifteen, it had never seemed to be an issue.

“The beautiful thing about you, Lou,” Angie used to say, “is that you have no idea how beautiful you are.”

Back in the day, when Angie still had time for her, they would have long discussions on beauty standards and on how Lou could never perceive herself as fitting any standard, especially because for one grueling year, she had been mocked so relentlessly about how she looked.

When she glanced in the mirror she saw a woman who might have been the most beautiful girl Angie had ever seen, but was definitely not beautiful enough to keep Angie from choosing work over coming home at a decent time of night to clasp eyes on Lou’s said beauty.

For all of those reasons, Lou didn’t attach much importance to beauty. It was the most subjective thing, anyway. Back in school, everyone thought Mia was the most beautiful girl in their year, but Lou knew how ugly she really was. And sure, Jared had described Mia as hot, and maybe to him she was—because he had entirely different standards for beauty than Lou had—but Lou was sure Mia ceased to be anything remotely related to beautiful after she had told Jared about their history.

“There you are.” Amber’s voice came from behind her. “I’ve asked Mia to stay behind for a minute. Told her you had something to ask her. She’s upstairs. Micky and I are just packing up and will be out of your hair in five minutes.” Amber came to stand next to her and looked at her in the reflection in the mirror. “If you need to come see me afterwards, I’ll be home.” She put a gentle hand on Lou’s shoulder. “Remember, you are not alone.”