“I propose that our sons need this assembly most of all. Look, these girls have been made to feel less than human,” she went on.

Eve remembered her brother saying the same thing.

Winston’s mom stood tall, her demeanor confident, as if she did this all the time. “To not be on the list, you’re getting the message that you’re ugly. And in our world, where from the age of one a girl’s looks are treated as all-important, a girl being perceived as ‘ugly’ sends her the message that she has less value. And for those on the list, they’re being told that their purpose is to be looked at. Ranked. The poor girl sitting at number one … How does she feel?”

Eve felt her mom stiffen at the same time that she did. No one would make Eve talk, would they?

“Our boys need to hear this. They need to begin to understand their classmates’ pain. I mean, in this context, being number ten, five, or one is not a compliment, okay, girls? Okay, boys?”

“Better than the alternative,” her dad grunted as her mom lightly hit his arm.

“Dad, stop it.” Eve may have whispered aloud, or maybe she just thought it. What did he know about being a girl?

“I think we should hear from each of these girls,” Winston’s mom continued. “Let’s give them a voice. Boys, listen. Girls … speak.”

Eve stopped hearing her. Would they start with number one and go in order? How could she escape?

Winston’s mom made a lot of sense, and Eve agreed with what she was saying, but Eve had never asked to be number one. She certainly never asked to be the spokesperson for this lady’s point of view.

“I gotta go,” Eve whispered to her mom and Nessa, and she stumbled over the laps in her row, dropping some loose papers from her notebook as she went, but not stopping to consider them. She had to leave.

She ran out the door, searching for whatever other room lay nearest to her, where she could hide.

“Hey!” Eve heard a boy’s voice behind her, but she ignored it. “Hey, wait!”

The choir room. Right down the hall.

She pulled open the anchor-heavy doors and let them clamp shut behind her, escaping the voice. She was done hearing from boys right then.

She put her back against the door by the wall and let herself slide to the floor.

The tears came. Rushing out seemingly without end, like the text messages she’d been getting all day.

And as the tears poured, she heard the creak of a choir chair from somewhere in the darkness beyond her.

“Who’s there?” Eve spoke to the shadows.

The shadows spoke back: “Well, isn’t this just perfect.”

“I’ll go.” Eve turned to push the door.

“Who do you think you are?” the voice called to her.

Eve glanced back to see a figure emerge from the depths of the choir room, where the tall kids always sat. And there, with her arms crossed and a sour glare on her face, stood Sophie Kane.