“Well.” Gloria stood up. “Take a seat.”

Sherri lowered herself onto the chair next to Gloria’s desk. She crossed her legs and set her hands on her lap, feeling more naked than she’d ever felt before, covered in a rash of goose pimples. She could tell that Gloria was inspecting everything about her as if she were a hog at the state fair: her skin, her hair, her bust, her waist, her teeth. “Why were you late?”

“Oh, I got here as quickly as I could. I was waiting for my ride, and—” She just blamed Roberta for making her late. She wished she could push the words back into her mouth. She decided to change the subject. Sherri smiled and fixed her eyes on the bracelet watch on Gloria’s wrist. “I can put a new battery in that for you if you like. That’s why your second hand is skipping.”

Gloria seemed taken aback. “I thought it was broken.”

Sherri repeated something her father had taught her: “Swiss watches don’t break.”

Gloria scribbled some notes. “You have work experience?”

“I brought a résumé. It’s nothing much, but I’ve waitressed—”

“You don’t need a résumé. And we don’t call this ‘waitressing.’” She said it like the word was dirty. “Where’d you work?”

“Inn the Olden Days. In Mukwonago.” Sherri had picked up a few shifts a week while a church deacon stayed with her mom. She worked hard and was lucky to leave with twenty bucks in her pocket after a four-hour shift. There, she’d waited on old ladies who farted and played bridge, and farm-equipment salespeople passing through town who called her “doll.” She never wanted to smell chipped beef on rye again.

“And what do you like to do? Hobbies? Interests?”

At this point, Sherri figured she had nothing to lose by following Tina’s advice—even if you have to lie. She channeled Tina’s people-pleasing personality. “Well,” Sherri said, smiling the way Tina did, and pulling her hair back behind her ear. “I guess you could say I’m your typical small-town girl.” She giggled. “I love to play volleyball and golf and tennis, and I volunteer at the Salvation Army camp as an aide—I just adore kids. And I’m in 4-H, like everyone in my town. Lop-eared rabbits are my specialty.” This was partly true. Sherri had been in 4-H, but her rabbit, an American Dutch named Radio, had bit the judge on the knuckles and was disqualified.