“So…,” I started, but came up blank. It was hard to make conversation with someone taping your boobs. “Uh… how’s Love Realism going?”

“Harrison and I are divorced,” Laney said, cutting off another piece of tape while I stood there, squishing my breasts together, looking at framed photos of Mrs. Sorenson’s daughters playing with a corgi. Totally normal.

“Bummer.”

Laney shrugged. “We wanted different things.”

“So what happens now? Do you pick someone else and start over?”

“Of course not!” she said, offended. “I’m only fifty-six in my Love Realism timeline. I’m in Argentina right now, learning tango.”

I laughed. “So no hard feelings, then.”

“Nope. Harrison’s pretty awesome.”

“Actual Harrison or Love Realism Harrison?” I asked.

“Actual Harrison. Love Realism Harrison was kind of a moron. But I don’t know, maybe something good will come out of it for Actual Harrison,” she said, smiling.

“Something good?”

Laney shrugged. “Just watch for the programs,” she whispered.

Before I could ask what that meant, Laney gave my boobs a nod of approval and went off to find her next victim.

I pulled my straps up and went back out to the mirror propped against the wall and… wow. Mad cleavage indeed. In my sequined green costume and seamed tights, I looked like a different person. I missed my leg warmer, but I couldn’t wear it for the dress rehearsal. As I stared at myself, the choir room door opened and Ethan and Margot walked in. They looked like an old-timey photo. Margot in a champagne-colored sparkly dress with a white faux-fur wrap. Ethan in a suit, his hat cocked perfectly to one side.

Their eyes went directly to my chest. “She got you,” Margot said. “I literally had to run away.”

“I gave in. I kind of like it?”

“You should. Looks awesome,” Margot said. Ethan nodded as they sat down on the choir chairs. I walked over to sit beside them.

“You guys look awesome,” I said, pointing to their costumes. “Margot, your abuela is going to take so many pictures of you.”

“She’d better. I’m not going dress shopping with her again, so this will have to last her a lifetime.”

We smiled, and then we were quiet.

“Hey, you were right about the Robobitch thing,” Margot said. We’d been running around so much, doing costume fittings, practicing dances, catching a few minutes of sleep whenever we could, that we hadn’t had time to talk about it yet. “It was shitty of me to call you that when your only crime was being serious about pursuing your dream. Same with Diya. Especially since I know girls get called bitches for doing things that aren’t bitchy at all. I mean, I get called a bitch for being awesome, and I hate that. I know it, and I hate it, and I still did it. I’m sorry.”

I smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”