The words from the texts had begun to repeat themselves in her mind on an endless loop, like her favorite poems once did only days ago.

She wondered if Sophie got these kinds of texts. And then she wondered why, after they left the choir room, Sophie had walked toward the street in front of the school, headed toward the bus stop.

Eve turned her phone off and threw it on the carpet. With no phone, no alarm would wake her up in the morning. She’d be late. Or maybe she could just miss school altogether. Maybe she would never go back.

Maybe she was already changing.

17

NESSA

“And so,” Nessa said, launching into an explanation of her life plan over family dinner a couple of days after the choir room meeting, “after I get my college degree in musical theater—”

“Wow. Now that’s a terrible idea,” her sister Delma mumbled into her plate.

“I’ll easily get a couple of regional theater gigs under my belt, and then I’ll have my Equity card—”

“Huh?”

Nessa sighed. “The union. The actors’ union? Anyway. Then I’ll be pretty much set. If you think about it that way, it’s a pretty reasonable career choice, you have to admit.”

“Are you just going to let her chatter all dinner without asking me about my day?” Delma put her fork down and challenged their parents.

Her dad smiled. “You’re right, you’re right. Go ahead, Del. How was your day?”

Delma shrugged. “Fine.”

“See?” Nessa hollered. “She doesn’t even have anything to say!”

“It’s the principle,” Delma whined.

It was a miracle that Nessa’s boring family—a pediatrician dad, an occupational therapist mom, and a math-whiz older sister—created a star like her.

When she took a breath to eat some of her casamiento, her dad asked her if the uproar over the list had died down at all. She told him no, which was true, at least for people who weren’t her.

Nessa was determined not to let the list get to her. Because the thing was, Nessa was fabulous. She knew what happened when she walked onto a stage. The room stilled. And she heard the sound that echoed back into her ears when she sang in the shower. She had a gift. And when it came to the mirror, well, truth be told, Nessa loved looking into it. She loved the freckles her dad had given her, and the thick, black hair her mother had passed down (well, she had a love/hate relationship with her hair, but mostly love).

So what if her Dad’s Irish Catholic parents in Grand Rapids told her she should focus on “eating healthier”? She ate healthy, but also not, sometimes. Just like anybody else. And it was none of their business! Especially when Gram and Gramps were pouring butter all over everything they touched! Geez, they’d probably put butter on sushi!

And when she visited El Salvador every other winter break to see her mom’s parents, they would say the opposite. They’d say to Delma, “You’re too skinny.” To be honest, Nessa loved when they said that. Take that, Delma. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, everyone had his or her own opinions about how other people should look, and those opinions were different all over the world, so how could any one opinion be true?