“No, Abby. I don’t have time,” she snapped. “Between school and dance and that stupid shrink I can hardly breathe.”

“Sorry,” I said.

She sighed. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I just hate these dumb sessions where they want you to talk about your feelings, blah blah blah.” She waved her hand. “I need to be focused on this competition in July. It could be my last chance. Aleksander said someone from the Royal Ballet will be there. I have to be the best, you know?” She stared at herself in her bathroom mirror. “There’s no room for error. I can’t have another Joffrey meltdown.”

I told on you to Caleb, I wanted to scream. I was pretty sure she’d have more therapy coming her way.

“Besides, prom is this weekend,” said Blair. “Which means no weekend rehearsal time. Aleksander is so pissed . . . it’s pretty stupid. Kind of a waste of time.”

“It’ll be so fun, though,” I said excitedly. “Caleb in a tux, and you guys can slow dance. Maybe you’ll be prom queen.”

Blair barked out a laugh. I thought she was going to make fun of me, but instead she gave me a hug. I could feel her rib cage, like if I squeezed her too hard she’d shatter.

“I love you, Abs,” she whispered into my ear. She sounded sad. But maybe a little hopeful, too.

That Saturday was the big day. Mom’s college friend Amber came over to do Blair’s hair. Originally, she wanted it down; she had it up so often for ballet that we all agreed she should try something new. But her hair was so thin. Amber ran a brush through it and a clump fell out. She glanced at Mom, then back at Blair.

“Sweetie, I love you, but your hair is brittle as candy,” she said. “It has to go up.”

Amber was a miracle worker, maneuvering Blair’s hair up in a French twist. Her dress was pink—not Barbie doll pink, but a soft pink—long and flowing with a few sparkles down the skirt. She looked like a princess. She looked like a princess all the time, at a bajillion dance recitals, but this was different. She actually looked happy, not anxious. Like she wasn’t worrying about pointing her toes. Instead of being caked in stage makeup, she just wore a little mascara and lip gloss. We locked Obi in the basement so he wouldn’t jump on her. When Caleb came to pick her up, Mom took so many pictures her phone ran out of memory. Even Jade stuck around for a bit before going to meet up with her friends.

“You be careful, okay?” Mom said nervously, gripping Blair as if she were sending her off to war.

“I will, Mom. I promise,” she said.

We all felt it, watching Blair and Caleb drive off. Hope. The feeling that maybe things were on the upswing. Maybe Blair was getting better. Maybe she could be a normal girl tonight, a fairy princess at the prom, and then she’d dance beautifully at the competition this summer and get offered a spot in the Royal Ballet. Maybe we could all go to London to see her and try to spot Will and Kate.