“It’s fine, Mom. I said goodbye to her yesterday,” Blair said.

I heard the car doors open and shut a few times. Then Dad’s truck started and pulled out of the driveway, crunching over gravel. Just like that, she was gone.

I stayed there, under my covers, willing everything to go back to how it had been.

But it wouldn’t. Blair got diagnosed with anorexia, which sounded like a person to me: Anna Rexia, an evil witch who hides under your bed and sets your hair on fire. If I had Blair’s artistic talent, I would have drawn her—a super-skinny woman, almost see-through yet covered with fur, with red eyes and spiky hair. Anna Rexia tricked the scale and whispered lies into your ears and pointed out how many calories things were. She tripped you in ballet class and poured salt into your eyes so that you couldn’t see what was real and what wasn’t. Anna Rexia had found my sister and taken her hostage. Even when Blair left, Anna was there—hiding behind curtains, humming softly. If you stopped to listen, you could hear her.

3

AUGUST, PRESENT DAY

Twelve years old

The morning after spying on Dr. Leo Lacamoire, I was woken up by Obi.

“Ugh. Kibble breath.” I hauled him up onto my comforter and snuggled him tight, but he wiggled out of my grip. Obi wanted your love and affection right up until the moment you gave it to him.

“Abigail?” Mom called. “Up and at ’em. I have to run into town, so you need to be in the office.”

“Child labor laws are a thing, you know,” I yelled back.

“Do you have anything better to do?” she asked.

Low blow. But point taken.

I got out of bed and yanked on some shorts and a tank top before quickly brushing my teeth. As I did, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. Tall, white, brown hair, medium weight: a handful of traits that didn’t really say much about me. Blair thought she was fat, even though she obviously wasn’t—she didn’t even weigh a hundred pounds. Did that mean she thought I was fat? I had asked Mom that one time, and she quickly shook her head, saying that wasn’t how eating disorders worked. It was more about control than judging other people. It had never crossed my mind before, except when Sophie and I went swimsuit shopping and sucked in our stomachs in the mirror. I was a normal weight for my height, which was too tall already and kept creeping up when I wasn’t looking. I was probably skinnier than half the girls at school and fatter than the other half.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Blair would think of how I looked.

Obi followed behind like a shadow. We left the house and jogged over to the office.

“We should really get an air conditioner in here,” I grumbled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.