“What interview?” she said in place of a greeting.
“Hi, Alex,” I said.
“You had an interview with Chit Chat?” she shouted, loud enough so anyone near her would have heard. I wondered who she was with.
“The reporter even bought me these incredible muffins and a Nutella latte.” I tried to steady my voice.
“I want to hear everything. I’ll be back at the apartment in ten minutes.”
We hung up.
Eight minutes later, a key turned in the lock. Alex—long, lean, and wearing her trademark high blond ponytail—marched through the door with a backpack slung over one shoulder. She wore designer workout clothes, purchased at a 40 percent discount from the athletics store where she worked part-time. She tossed the bag onto the floor and sat across from me on the couch. Sometimes I couldn’t believe how little she resembled Mrs. Stone. Alex used to sneak me candy when my mother wasn’t looking.
She grabbed me by the knees, something she hadn’t done since I’d told her about Mom. I resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her ponytail.
“Tell me everything,” she commanded.
I spent the next hour describing each painstaking detail of the interview. Alex hung on my every word. I decided to forgive her for ignoring me the past few months. I could tell she cared—she had even silenced her phone.
“That must have been so hard for you,” she said when I was finished, twirling her ponytail, deep in thought. “I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there.” She squeezed my knee. I wished I was wearing shorts—I had shaved my legs that morning, and they were silky smooth. I thought back to Mrs. Stone’s bathroom ten months ago, when I’d applied shaving cream for the first time.
I gave her a closemouthed smile, though I was grinning inside. “I was tired of being the victim,” I said, borrowing Vinny’s words.
“So when does the issue come out?” Alex hopped off the couch and walked to the kitchen. “Smoothie?”
I’d never tried a smoothie before. “Sure. And in a month or two, I think.”
Alex looked disappointed.
“But I get to do a photo shoot soon,” I lied. Vinny had made clear they’d use one of the photos they already had of us. “Nothing with my face,” I added. “Maybe my profile or something.”
Alex nodded. “You don’t need people hounding you more than they already do.”
“Or for the entire country to see how ugly I am.”
Alex didn’t say anything. I took notes on my phone as she added half a bag of frozen strawberries, one banana, ten ice cubes, and a splash of milk to the blender. Now I could try the recipe at home. I watched the long blond ponytail bob while she worked, imagined cutting it off and gluing it to my own head.
She brought two pink smoothies back to the couch and handed me one. “Your face is not ugly,” she said. “It’s unique and it’s yours.”
I stared at Alex, wondering if anyone had ever told her that she had a “unique” face. Probably not, or she wouldn’t have thought it a compliment. I sighed and took a sip of the smoothie, surprised by how refreshing and creamy it was.
“When is the photo shoot?” she asked.
“In a week or so. Vinny said the photographer would call me.” For the second time that day, I marveled at how effortlessly the untruths flowed from my mouth. If I wasn’t careful, this could become a habit.
“Can I come?”
Alex was so excited, so eager. She had never beamed at me this way before, as if I had something to offer her. My stomach clenched at the thought of disappointing her.
“I don’t know, Alex.” I hesitated. “The more people there, the more awkward I think I’ll feel.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “I can help advise on hair and makeup stuff. That way you won’t end up looking like a total stranger. I mean, you want to look like yourself.”
Sometimes I wondered whether Alex and I had anything besides a hometown in common anymore. We had been so compatible when we were little: making roller-coaster rides out of odd stuff around the house, pretending the living room carpet was lava, hosting dog pageants with Alex’s Puppy in My Pocket toys. Friendships were easier when you were a kid.
She was waiting for an answer, and it wouldn’t be no. I could make up some reason they’d canceled on me later. “If you really want to,” I said.
“Yes.” Alex clapped her hands together. “Oh my God, this is so exciting. Chit Chat!”
I smiled, hiding my teeth behind the smoothie glass. I owed Alex this, after everything she had done for me.
She picked at an imaginary split end in her ponytail. “How’s my mom?”
I realized I hadn’t been to Mrs. Stone’s in at least a month. I vowed to visit once I got back to Deadwick. She had helped me through so much.
“She misses you,” I said. “You should come home more often.”
“Why?” she said to the strand of hair she was examining. “Now that she has you, there’s no time for me.”
I was stunned for a moment—Alex had never said anything like that before.
“That’s not true,” I protested.
“She used to call me every day until your mom went away.” Alex glanced at me and shrugged. “I mean, no big deal. I get it.”
I didn’t know what to say. “You should go home and see her.”
“I will,” Alex said.
No eye contact, bowed head: I was starting to learn how to read body language. I wasn’t the only liar in the room.
* * *
• • •
Later that night, Alex and I met her friends at a bar. Alex had told me on the ride over that she knew the bouncer, so I wouldn’t have any trouble getting in, even though I was only eighteen. Sure enough, he was too busy flirting with her to check either of our IDs. We walked inside. The floors were sticky, the crowd was loud, and the bartenders were unimpressed.
I was nervous because we’d seen four white cars on the ride over—a bad omen. Plus I had stepped on a crack when I got out of the cab.
We stood in a tight circle by the door, taking turns getting jostled. Alex introduced me to the group: three guys and two girls, one of them Whitney. “This is my friend from childhood, Rose Gold. She’s going to be on the cover of Chit Chat.” That wasn’t even close to true—I’d be a two-page interview at the back of the magazine—but I didn’t correct her. My heart pounded when they all turned to look at me. I gave a small wave and remembered not to smile.