After we arrived at the hotel and checked in, we ordered room service. Mom told Blair she needed to eat to keep her strength up for the audition in the morning, but they got in a big fight. Mom had asked Blair to finish her turkey burger and Blair had burst into tears. My fearless sister, the Performer, the Tough One, the Athlete. Queen of double-dog dares and oh yes I can. Crying over a chunk of meat.

To get us out of the drama, Dad took Jade and me swimming instead. I thought Jade would sit on her phone the whole time, but she actually went down the water slide with me, both of us racing to see who could go faster. We floated on our backs and she told me about Nose Ring Dude, who she didn’t really like but just needed for a date to the Valentine’s Day dance. I didn’t say much, because it felt like a spell I could break. Jade talking to me, besides calling me a nerd or telling me I needed a life? It gave that optimism of mine another jolt, kicking his treadmill up a few notches.

The next morning, we walked Blair to her tryout. Chicago in late January is not a great place to be. The snow is all dirty and brown, with everyone’s Christmas trees already dragged off by garbage trucks, and the cold is there to stay. There were soggy ice patches on every sidewalk, and Blair, as she had reminded us a thousand times, couldn’t fall and break an ankle before the biggest audition of her life.

When we got to the theater, we were informed by a guy in all black checking people in that we weren’t allowed to watch Blair try out. It was as if we were dropping her off at CIA headquarters for an interrogation. We waved goodbye, but she didn’t wave back; she just disappeared in her leotard and pink tights, clutching her pointe shoes. Dad went to the hotel bar to watch some basketball game. I wanted to go to the planetarium or the Museum of Science and Industry, but Mom and Jade wanted to go shopping, so that’s what we did.

We were arguing over a scarf when Mom got the call.

“It’s so sparkly,” said Jade. “It’s not you at all.”

“It could be me,” I insisted. “I could be sparkly!”

“Gold sequins? Are you a Barbie doll? I thought you were some science genius. Look, this one has stars on it, at least.”

“That is pretty cool. . . .”

Mom’s phone went off, quacking like a duck, which made us crack up. Jade was always changing Mom’s ringtone when she wasn’t looking. She was still funny Jade, silly Jade, make-everyone-laugh Jade when she wanted to be. Mom laughed, too, until she saw it was Blair.

“Hello? Blair? Are you done already?” She glanced back at her phone, and I knew what she was thinking—we weren’t supposed to be picking her up for another hour and a half.