She said “harassment” with an emphasis on the first syllable—hairissment—and a few snickers could be heard around the room.

As she continued, every time she said “hairissment,” which was a lot, the giggles grew louder and louder.

Eve took out her notebook, pretended to take notes, and instead secretly scribbled poems.

When the bell rang, Mr. Flynn called her over. He waited to speak until everyone was gone.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Eve felt herself blush. She always blushed, even if she wasn’t embarrassed. It was like her face was trying to tell the rest of her body to hide.

“I’m fine,” she answered.

The thought of Mr. Flynn looking at her face and thinking about how someone had called her the prettiest girl in the school filled her with dread. Was he thinking, “How could this awkward kid be prettiest?” Was it weird of Eve to even wonder that? Was he judging her just like everyone else was? Did he think she wrote the list herself?

“I just wanted to remind you that the counselors are available to talk. That’s their job, you know.” His eyebrows furrowed in that kind of ultraconcern that you never want to see on a grown-up’s face.

“Yup,” Eve mumbled.

“Okay … And Principal Yu is available, too,” he added. He seemed to want this conversation even less than Eve did.

“Thanks. I’m fine, though.” Eve held her notebook and schoolwork tight to her body and rushed out the door into the gawking crowds.

Out of the corner of her eye, Eve saw that sparkly blond hair again, reflecting glints of hallway light. And Eve gasped aloud as she saw that underneath the tips of Sophie’s hair, a piece of paper had been taped onto her dark red shirt, the loud black Sharpie on it yelling out #2.

6

SOPHIE

Sophie felt a hand on her back and turned around to see the short, mousy Eve Hoffman standing before her.

It was bad enough that Eve Hoffman even felt she could talk to her in the first place, but for her to touch Sophie? That was over the line. Who did she think she was?

Sophie had learned a long time ago, on the rare times her dad came to stay with them and was super upset with her or Bella for something, that silence could be more powerful than yelling. So she just glared.

Two enormous brown eyes looked back up at her.

“This was—was on your—your…” Eve Hoffman made a motion toward Sophie’s back.

Eve Hoffman held a Post-it reading #2.

Sophie snatched the paper out of her hands and crumpled it up.

“I’m so sorry. Someone must’ve…” Eve Hoffman didn’t seem to have the ability to finish a sentence.

Eve’s hair was a disaster. Bits of it peeked out from every corner of her skull, covered in a light layer of frizz. She wore some kind of navy blue sports shirt and black jeans, the colors clashing. Even while dressed in a glorified bag, Sophie could see that she had what Brody called “a body.” He always talked about celebrities and said some had “a body,” or sometimes he’d say, “Ugh. She doesn’t even have a body.” Sometimes when he said this, Sophie thought, “Brody, we all have bodies. It’s called … existing.” But she kept this to herself.