She turned her back to me and starting talking again to the two boys I had seen earlier. I stood there, not sure what to do, and feeling kind of dismissed. Was Crystal going to be more like Frida’s frenemy, Luna? I had hoped she’d be cool like Sabine.

Luckily, the boy who had long, curly blond hair pulled back into a messy bun, and reminded me of Arlo and the other eighth-grade skateboarders, introduced himself to me.

“I’m Troy, and this is Malik,” he said.

Malik and I exchanged grins, while Crystal looked bored, staring at her fingernails.

“Did Tenshi give you that haircut?” I asked. “It’s really cool. I like it.”

Malik’s dark hair was parted on the top and had lots of volume, but it was cropped close around the ears, so it had a fauxhawk look going on, like Tenshi’s.

Malik laughed. “Nope. In fact, she saw my hairstyle, and that’s when she started rocking her own fauxhawk.”

Crystal pretended not to hear and instead started whispering to Troy. I ignored her, and Malik and I continued chatting until I felt someone grabbing my arm.

“Devin,” my mom said urgently. “We have to talk. I don’t want you photographed wearing only a bra.”

I felt my cheeks turn red as my mom dragged me back to Tenshi’s room. I avoided making eye contact with Crystal, Troy, and Malik, although out of the corner of my eye, I saw Crystal smiling at my discomfort. Why do moms have to be so embarrassing? I thought. Couldn’t she have said something to me when we were in private?

“Mom,” I whispered, “this is what I wear when I go for a run in our neighborhood. And Crystal is dressed in the same thing.” Crystal was wearing ombré leggings in sky blue with a matching sports bra.

“Crystal is not my daughter,” my mom said. “And this is going to be online and printed in catalogs. It’s not the same as going for a run in our neighborhood.”

I wanted to point out that anyone could snap a picture of me anytime during my run and I wouldn’t even notice. But I decided to keep my mouth shut, because than I might be forced to wear a tracksuit for my runs, the velvet kind, like my grandma wears.

“What’s up?” Tenshi said as we came barreling in.

“I’m not comfortable with Devin being photographed in only a sports bra.” My mom sounded tense, like she was expecting an argument.

Tenshi frowned. “I know the client needs shots of the sports bra for the catalog,” she said. “Let me think. . . . I’ve got the matching windbreaker for that outfit. It’s really cute. Would it be okay if Devin wore the windbreaker open on top?”

“Can I see it?” my mom asked.