“You bet there is,” Taylor says, and Jack’s blush gets darker.

While Jack sets up his lights and the white screen that was in the tube, flicks off the overheads, and shuffles things around, the rest of us start getting into the costume pieces we have. We decide that Katherine will be photographed first.

He starts shooting as Nevaeh brushes Katherine’s curls and pulls them into a tall, fountaining ponytail on her head that she can whip around. She’s so unexpectedly punk rock in her thrift-store stuff. She’s got a poofy black-and-purple petticoat, a tight off-the-shoulder tee, and a kid-size motorcycle jacket that’s just cropped on her. Black pleather fingerless gloves from the internet, plus sparkly purple hot pants and a spangled black bikini top for the grand finale. Wicked black eyeliner, pink mouth. Nevaeh dabs the bow of her lips with a little bit of gloss, and Katherine spins to us.

“What do you think?” She smooths down the petticoat, pulls at the end of her ponytail. She looks just like herself, but even more so.

“Oh, wow,” Jack says, breaking the silence.

“I love it,” Nevaeh tells Katherine, smiling.

“You look great,” Jack says, seeming a little shy for just a second, because his crush looks super pretty, I assume, or maybe just because he’s a little awkward. It’s kind of cute, honestly. And I try not to sigh at myself.

“Want to see me hula-hoop in it?” she asks him.

“Heck yes!” he says, giving her two thumbs up. Yeah, he’s a little dorkward.

I grab the hoop to hand to Katherine, and she spins it into motion around her waist, up her torso, down to her hips, and he’s shooting, adjusting his settings, shooting again, looking at the screen of the camera and adjusting his settings and moving again. Jack gives her directions, and they take shots without the hoop, moving around her, close up, moving back to capture a pose from behind, from the side with her head turned away. She’s confident, melting through poses, elegant arms and wrists, her throat a long line, her leg stretched long and lean. I try not to compare her almost-done costume to the sad bustier and old performance tutu I’ll have to work with.

Nevaeh, Taylor, and I watch shoulder to shoulder against the wall in the shadows thrown by the spotlight. My nerves are building up.

Nevaeh seems perfectly confident and cool. Of course, she takes videos and selfies of herself all the time, is so at ease with how she looks in them. All the parts of her collected, resting easily together. I hope if I stand here, leaning quietly, maybe I’ll soak that up.

“Katherine has such a crush on him,” Nevaeh says in a very low voice, bumping her shoulder against mine. It’s not my secret to tell, but I really want to.

“She’s sweet to everyone,” I say.