Eventually I stop even trying and just join them in practicing the little things like hip bumps and bump and grinds and step ball change and shimmying our hips and shaking out our hair and headbanging with our fists in the air, and yelling, “Fuck the haters! Long live Dirty Little Secret!” They’re all varying degrees of undressed as we dance, laughing as they try to be graceful while stumbling over their pants leg or getting an arm stuck in their sleeve, but I keep my pajamas on until it’s time to call it a night.

“I do not snore,” Nevaeh says, heading into the back room, where our sleeping bags are laid out. “For the last time.” She whacks Katherine with her hair wrap.

“You sound like a truck,” Katherine says, following her.

“Come to bed,” Taylor says to me, pulling me by the hand. “Stop worrying about it.”

“I can’t,” I say.

“You won’t,” he says. “But you should.”

Carmen Go said brag about the thing you like best. My mom said you’re the size you are for a reason. Somewhere between there, I’ll find an idea.

I flick off the light in the living room and follow them to bed.

9

We have boxes of ball gowns, sheets, and an old sewing machine to load into the car this morning, thanks to Nevaeh’s mom. Nevaeh told Virginia they were for a fundraiser—which is true, I remind myself.

“Promise me you’ll visit us more often,” Virginia says to Nevaeh. Her hair is silky brown and tucked behind her ears, and her lipstick is a dark maroon. She looks so much like Nevaeh, and not much older than her. “Your dad and I miss you.”

“I will, Mom,” Nevaeh says.

“You too, sweetheart,” she says to Katherine. “You are my favorite of all the girls she brings home. Don’t tell my daughter.”

“Oh my god, Mom!” Nevaeh thumps the trunk closed.

Virginia presses a kiss against Nevaeh’s cheek and murmurs, “Love you, baby.” Then she hugs us all, tells me how glad she is my bangs have finally grown out, makes Taylor put on his hat, kisses us all goodbye again, and reminds us to be safe and not to forget to get gas and text when we get there.

Back on the road, Katherine flips to another notebook page to write more lists of things we have to think about next and figure out next and do next and find next.

“I’ll organize it all into a spreadsheet!” Taylor says.

“What do you know about spreadsheets?” Nevaeh says.

“What don’t I know about spreadsheets?” He tries to snatch the notebook from Katherine, but she whisks it away from his grabby hands and he sits back, grumbling.