So what if her new friends asked for free swag at the lunch table or to tag along to book talks and signings? It was fun, and friends had fun together. And then, one day, in the girls’ restroom, Maddie overheard the two Kimmys—the alphas of the popular clique—talking.

“We keep this up, we’ll be at the premiere,” brown-haired Kimmy had said.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” blonde-haired Kimmy replied. “I mean, she’s as boring as a goldfish, but at least she doesn’t talk all that much.”

“True. But I was hoping to get her to do my math homework. Sucks she’s just as bad as I am. That’s like false advertising, you know?”

Maddie had been only a little older than Sadie. Unable to discern if the tightness in her chest was more from the stereotype or being used. She didn’t tell anyone. She’d wiped tears she vowed never to let fall again and retreated into herself, her art, her family, knowing they were the only ones she could trust. Until her parents took that away from her too. They’d promised to be better, to not let differences over how to run the business, be it client relations or expansion or travel, spill into their home life. And yet still the hostility spread like a virus, poisoning them all.

“Look!” Sadie shoved her phone into Maddie’s face. “Pulse 10! Double duh. Of course she’s a 10, she’s Esmé Theot. But it’s not like she needs all that stuff.”

Maddie shook off the ache unfortunately now entwined with Gumberoo and said, “What stuff?”

“You did come from ValleyStart, didn’t ya?”

Maddie nodded.

“And you’re asking me about Pulse?” Sadie squinted. “You messing with me?” Clutching her phone, Sadie asked, “Handle?”

“Don’t have one.”

“How is that possible?”

“I decided the only pulse I need is the one that keeps my heart ticking,” Maddie joked the way she would with Danny.

“Don’t let Ryan Thompson hear you say that.” Sadie jumped. “Oh my God, you’ve met him, haven’t you?”

“Unfortunately” almost slipped from Maddie’s lips.

“He’s, like, soooo hot,” Sadie said.

“Eleven-year-olds shouldn’t know who’s hot.”

“Eleven-year-olds have eyes, Maddie. So, yeah, he’s hot just like all the Level 10s. Because triple duh, of course he’s Crushing It! Here, look.”

Sadie handed Maddie her phone and showed her how to flip through all the Level 10s. A black woman sporting a fancy watch in the front row at Wimbledon, a dark-haired white guy pointing to a TV the size of a car, a blonde woman smiling and holding a first-class airline ticket, another woman at a runway show, one more turning on a fancy stove, more and more and more, each 10 more beautiful than the last.

“Aren’t they amazing?” Sadie whispered. “My goal is two years.”

“For what?”