“Hey,” said Daphne, smiling. “How was your break?”

“Fine.”

“Mine went so fast.”

Claudia did not respond.

“Jeremy, do you know Claudia?”

“Sure,” said Jeremy, hiking up the guitar case on his shoulder. “Everybody knows Claudia Castro.”

Daphne giggled. Oh, God, thought Claudia, she likes him. Jeremy smiled at Claudia, smiled at Daphne. Winked. Claudia didn’t lunge at him. But she thought about it.

“Did you end up going anywhere?” he asked her.

Claudia’s stomach started to cramp. Had she talked about her broken plans? Had she mentioned Ben? Why was he smiling? She shook her head.

“Okay. I’m off. See you ladies later.” He walked backward a few steps, grinning at them both, his arms positioned as if he were playing a guitar. “Practice time,” he said, twiddling his fingers dramatically.

“He’s not my usual type, but I think he’s really cute,” said Daphne. Claudia focused on the streetlight. The red hand blinking, the crosswalk countdown clock: 10, 9, 8, 7 …

“Are you okay?” asked Daphne.

“What?”

“You look a little sick.”

Claudia bent forward and vomited onto the sidewalk. Daphne jumped back. Claudia vomited again. Tears leaked from her eyes and she felt the wet splatter on her ankles. Her face had healed but what Jeremy and Chad did had infected her. She was different now, and they were the same.

PART 2

ONE WEEK LATER

EDIE

“I wanted your sister to be here but she isn’t answering my texts,” said Michelle.

“I haven’t heard from her either,” said Edie.

“I’m sure she feels terrible about missing the birth. She probably needs you to take the lead.”

Edie and her mom were sitting in the living area on the main floor of the family’s Gramercy Park town house. The whole level was one large room: a sitting area with sofas and armchairs, area rugs, and small tables facing a rarely used—but always ready—fireplace. One long, white-painted brick wall connected to the dining area and kitchen, with its marble island and countertops, cut-glass cabinets, and tub-sized farm sink, and then to the double-height sunroom that opened to the back garden. The family’s housekeeper, Olena, who’d been coming in the morning and leaving in the evening five days a week since Edie and Claudia were in elementary school, was upstairs making beds.

The last time Edie had been in this room with her mother was just before Christmas, when her parents announced they were separating.

“We love each other, but we want different kinds of lives,” Michelle had said. “You girls are grown now. You don’t really need us.”