“We look hot,” she said, standing beside me in the mirror once we finished getting ready. She was right, we did. I’d lost fifteen pounds at that point. I’d noticed the way my collarbone poked out from my shoulder, the way my cheeks and chin were more defined. The way everyone exalted, congratulating me with every pound gone, like this was the accomplishment of a lifetime. But in my old clothes, all of that was hidden. The only time I thought about it was when my underwear started forming into clumps under my pants, too baggy for my new body, but I was too poor to buy more.

Ruthie pulled her makeup out from under her bed, from the spot it had been sitting and gathering dust ever since we started hanging out with Catherine and Annie. She seemed unconcerned that any of it was expired.

She moved all the wands and brushes and sticks over her face effortlessly, like all of this was muscle memory; she’d done it so many times she didn’t need to think. Then she did the same to me—covering my face in foundation, filling my cheeks with blush, lining my eyes with mascara. When she finished, I hardly recognized myself—my eyelashes long and chunky, my eyelids sparkling in brown and gold powder, my cheeks bony and pink.

I could hardly contain my excitement, not just for the party but for Ruthie. There was something about getting ready with her like this—exchanging clothes, making each other look good, smiling side by side in the mirror hanging on the back of the door—that was perfect. Everything was perfect. This was exactly what I’d pictured college to be. And Ruthie was the perfect person to share it with.

“Here.” I twisted my hands behind my neck and pulled off my necklace, my initials mocking me with their permanence. The delicate cross on the other side was like one last warning, one last reminder that I was doing this. I was leaving all this behind. “You should wear this,” I told her, remembering her compliments from our first day. She took it without question, looping it around her neck and clasping it in one practiced move.

“I love it,” she said, her hand lingering over her heart. “Take a picture with me.”

She held her camera out, coiling her hands around to attempt to aim the lens at us. We smiled, the flash stinging my eyes for a moment.

She put the camera in her small purse. “I’m going to immortalize this party,” she said, uncontained glee oozing from her every word. “Let’s freaking do this.”