Even when her parents were still married Rose didn’t have to avoid talking to her father because he was rarely around. And when he was around he wanted everything to be done the right way—which meant his way. Rose says it is because he’s so used to being in charge at work. Which could be true, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Some days, I’m convinced that Rose continues to be my friend because I am one of the few people who genuinely couldn’t care less that Mr. Webster works in the Public Awareness and Outreach Office down the hall from the mayor or that her mother is the editor in chief of the most popular fashion magazine in the country. Almost everyone in school and most of their parents subscribe for the fashion spreads, feel-good makeover stories, and lifestyle tips. Just tap any picture and acquire what you need to brighten your own world!

When I was little, I had no idea how important Rose’s mom’s magazine was or where her dad’s office was located—which is the reason we are friends now. Had we met in high school instead of knowing each other most of our lives, I would never even have tried to speak to her.

Not that she would have noticed. There are a million others lured into her orbit by her glamorous parents, her stunning beauty and smarts and stature. Rose has no lack of people who would be happy to go to parties with her and gossip about boys and clothes if I disappeared. Yet she puts up with my moods and withdrawal. She tolerates my obsession with my mother’s painting and doesn’t ask questions that I know she must have about why I won’t let her near my father. She insists on being my friend even when I’m terrible at returning the favor. Thank goodness, because she’s the only person I know I can count on, even when I find myself not wanting to count on anyone.

Taking a deep breath, I ask, “The committee—do they actually like my work or are they interested in seeing more because your father asked them?”

“Does it matter?” she asks. “You want to learn more about your mom so you can finish her work. The best way to do that is to talk to the people who might know what inspired that work. Do you really care if having connections is what got you through the door?”

Resentment bubbles thick and black because I do care. The idea that someone would pretend I am talented in order to curry favor with Rose’s father makes my stomach turn. But I bite back my indignation because this is Rose. She wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. And when I set aside my ego and think about her words, I realize she isn’t wrong. If finishing my mother’s work is important to me, then the only thing that matters is arriving at that goal. And having my work submitted means I might still have a chance.