Now I’m smaller than a grain of sand. I’ve reached subatomic levels.

I look over my shoulder with a bitter taste in my mouth, and lo and behold, there’s Pedro Molina standing on Sugar’s doorstep with Seu Romário.

I know it’s not exactly his fault, but I can’t help but feel a wave of resentment for the way Mom always scolds me when she thinks he’s doing better than me at school. It doesn’t matter if other classmates occasionally get higher grades than me. But, God forbid Pedro Molina does, it’s like the end of the world to Mom.

I watch him trying to entice uninterested passersby with a tray of bolo de bacia samples, the golden cakes catching the blinking lights behind him. He looks like he’s in pain. He presses a hand to the small of his back, trying to stretch, and when he thinks no one’s looking, he slouches, resting his back against the wall. But then Seu Romário pokes him in the ribs and Pedro quickly goes back to standing at attention.

Some of my resentment wanes. Just some, though. I guess his family can be strict with him, too.

“Alice, don’t be so hard on her,” Dona Selma says, patting me on the hand to comfort me. “She’s number one. That’s a good thing, isn’t it, Lari?”

I try to smile, but I feel like a banana peel that’s been tossed, slipped on, cursed at, and pushed to the curb.

“She’s doing well because I watch her all the time,” Mom goes on. “She has no responsibilities other than school, but if I don’t tell her to study, she just sits around. So lazy. I don’t know who she takes after. Her grandmother was like a working ant. Never stopped. And so was her great-grandmother.” She pauses, her nostrils flaring a little. “And so was her father.”

Now that hurts. Mom’s bringing up the whole family to make a point of how useless I am?

“I’ve offered to help you at Salt,” I say.

Mom frowns at me.

“Who’s talking about you working at Salt? What can you even do here? You can’t bake.”

“If you taught me—”

“You’re a student!” Mom cuts me off. “Your job is to study. I make sure that’s your only concern. And you should count yourself lucky, instead of looking so miserable! Do you know how many kids your age don’t have the same privilege? Your own father didn’t!”

I don’t know when I got off the stool.

But in the next moment, I’m already out on the sidewalk, Salt’s door slamming shut behind me.