“And you can use the black satin gloves,” Nevaeh adds, peering into the bag. Katherine bought them before she decided to go with the short gloves.

“I think there’s a necklace in there too,” Taylor says. “Here, let me look—”

Katherine pulls the bag away. “I can look!”

“You don’t have to take pictures if you don’t want to,” Jack says softly to me.

“I’m nervous,” I find myself admitting to him. “About not having a costume,” I add quickly.

“We don’t need a whole costume,” he says. “You’ll be beautiful. I mean, it’ll be fine. Great.”

I laugh. His voice is rumbly and reassuring and kind, and it helps.

I slip into the long crystal earring drops and the large crystal neckpiece, keep my leo on but climb into my tutu. Nevaeh poofs me with glittery powder, adds eyelashes, eyeliner swoops, and red lips. She’s biting her lip and working fast. It’s the fastest behind-the-stage costume change I’ve ever been a part of.

“Hm,” Jack says.

“Thanks,” I say, with my hands on my hips.

“Oh! Oh, no, no, I was thinking about how to capture—you look great, I mean.” He’s a little flustered.

I take a deep breath and move in front of the light, which is bright enough to make me blink. Then I turn and look at him lifting the camera and realize I don’t know what to do with my hands. I try to remember what the others were doing, besides looking graceful and totally comfortable in front of a camera.

I move into fifth position, pose with my hands above my head, and he clicks. I drop my arms and turn and look over my shoulder, and he clicks. I spin, so my tutu flares out, and he clicks. I stop. I’m out of ideas. And I know I’m stiff. I’m flushed with embarrassment, hating not being good at this, everyone watching me be not good at it, feeling underdressed and awkward.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Can you—can you maybe tell me what you want me to do?” He’s the photographer. He ought to have a vision or something, right?

He looks at the screen of the camera, looks back at me.

“Can you dance for me?”

I hesitate. But, oh, dancing. Oh yes, I can do that. I nod.

“Music!” Nevaeh says, and grabs Taylor’s phone. She’s still using her phone for selfies. They put their heads together over his music app.

Jack comes close, lifts his hand, hesitates. “Can I?”

I nod.

He adjusts a curl at my ear, his fingers gentle, and nods to himself, then steps back.