And Sofia, armed in bulletproof popularity, moves again, and again, into every new friendship and obsession she can find. And while it is true that people find Sofia Colicchio a little unpredictable (this from her layered and coiffed hallway best friends; this from boys she deigned to go out with, from teachers in whose classes she didn’t live up to her potential), it is also true that she possesses the same addictive magic her father does, so that people cannot help but want to be around her. And while she is not exactly conscious of the fact, it is true that her rotating cast of friends becomes the stuff of clockwork and legend—a regular shuffling, a rhythmic cycle of heartbreak and infatuation. She picks up and falls in love with girl after girl, and drops each of them down just as suddenly. And they line up to be friends with her anyway, because to spend two weeks, or four, or nine, as the object of Sofia’s attention is worth it: to exchange sideways smiles with her, to bask in the laser focus of her sharp dark eyes. Despite the pervasive rumors about her family. Despite the danger that snaps like static in the air around her. Despite the cruelty of Sofia’s wandering affections, the quick way she moves on, the sunlight of her attention slipping under the horizon. To be friends with her is worth it. Oh, it’s worth it.

Of course, it’s worth considering whether it is love or love and the truth is that this has never occurred to Sofia: that for some particularly consuming friendships between teenage girls the line is blurred anyway. And it is fair to say that Sofia in particular falls in and out of love and love with these girls, but she does not name it.

And so Sofia moves again and again, and each time she leaves someone behind she feels a little more like herself. I’m not like that, I’m not like that, I’m not that either. I am made of something else. Always possessed of an inimitable electricity, Sofia begins to wield her power. To test its limits.

Eventually, Antonia mentions to Sofia that she is going to Mass every week, alone. She mentions this offhand, and it is clear she does not care what Sofia thinks the way she used to. Sofia does not ask her why she goes. Antonia hears a rumor that Sofia has let Lucas Fellini, the most boring boy in school, put a hand under her blouse, but dares not confirm it with her, dares not ask her what it was like. Was his hand cold? she wonders. Were you wearing the one with the buttons that stick?