Eve sent a mad face. IT’S SO STUPID! she added. And she knew better than to say Nessa wasn’t big. Nothing annoyed Nessa more. If Eve protested, “You’re not ‘bigger’!” it implied there was something wrong with being big. And there wasn’t. At all.

You are beautiful! Eve texted. Ugh. Was that the right thing to say, or did she sound like she was trying too hard?

Maybe there was no right thing to say. She opened the picture of the list on her phone and stared at the absence of Nessa’s name.

It had been a horrible day, but that absence was the worst part.

As if reading her thoughts, Nessa responded, if you feel bad for me, you’re making it worse. i mean it, okay? i. don’t. care. i can guarantee you i am the one person in that school who will win an oscar (no offense) and you’re all going to wish you were me, so it doesn’t really matter what sophie kanes little boyfriends think right now

I’m hugging you. Eve smiled and pressed the phone to her cheek.

me too number one. omg my mom is downstairs praying for us right now hahaha

I’m sure mine is, too! Eve wrote. Sigh.

That night, as Eve’s mom surely lay in bed whispering the Sh’ma, Nessa’s mom would be praying in front of her altar, laying down some freshly bought flowers before the cross.

They had always shared this, their God-fearing moms. Their God-neutral dads.

And, like Nessa’s mom, Eve’s mother was always full of concerns: about Abe, that he wasn’t humble enough, about Hannah, that she cared so much about her looks. And, until today, she’d worried that Eve kept her head in her books and out of the world. But now, she’d probably worry about Eve’s newfound status as “the prettiest.”

Eve wished she could just go back to being nobody, back to her usual spot as the quiet middle child, as the silent sidekick behind Nessa, and not shift to somebody, her name croaked out by the frogs into the bog of Ford Middle School.

4

SOPHIE

The next morning Sophie woke to the sound of her sister’s snores.

She slipped out of their shared room, down the hall to where her mom lay fast asleep after a long night of work.

Sophie crawled under her mom’s covers. Her mom’s arm draped over her.

“Hey,” her mom whispered into Sophie’s hair.

“Hey.”

Sophie’s mom still smelled like french fry grease and coffee grounds.

“You okay, sweet girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Got some email from Ford,” her mom mumbled, turning onto her back, her eyes still closed.

Sophie propped herself up and looked at her mom. Her mom was so beautiful, even all smelly from the diner and with her dark brown roots starting to show. Her lips reminded Sophie of the way little kids drew mouths on faces, in a heart shape. She looked like she should be in one of those old movies with a scarf wrapped around her head, big sunglasses on, wearing a white, billowy dress. One time, when her mom was in high school, a modeling talent scout had given her his business card. Even though nothing came of it, Sophie loved that story.