“Come on, Cassidy,” Rose murmured, her finger snaking in between rows of sequins on my bodice. “Think about how lucky you are to be here and give a little chuckle for the photographer so we can leave.”

“No, no, no,” shouted Sven. “Cassy! I said sexy, not sad. No tears!” He stood still, for the first time since we started the shoot, lowering his camera. “Do you need a minute?”

“I know we could all use a break,” said Meredith.

“No, let’s just get this over with,” said Yumiko. “You can do it, can’t you, Cassidy?”

I dashed at the tears that were blurring the edges of my vision and nodded silently, humiliated and ashamed. Jean signaled a makeup artist from the wings to come in and powder us all, soaking up another layer of sweat in a finely milled cosmetic dust.

“Again,” said Sven, and we moved on. Forty-five minutes later, we were changed back into street clothes and pulling off our fake eyelashes in the car, where no one said a word during the drive back. It was so quiet that I didn’t even try to eat the apple I found rolling along the floorboard in the backseat.

But what I said to Alex was a little less depressing. “I was in this sequined jumpsuit that I had no business being in—like seriously, my butt was like two giant disco balls, and no one needs two disco balls.”

“It sounds very eye-catching,” Alex teased.

“The clothes were all awful. And they put Yumiko in all black, with flat-ironed hair. She looked like a goth. It made no sense why Meredith and I were in these shiny clothes and she was stuck in the back.”

“Maybe once the cover comes out it will be more obvious,” he said, trying to sound positive. “Maybe the clothes look bad in real life but great on film.”

“Maybe.” Alex was such an optimist, always seeing the best possible outcome. I wasn’t so sure. I thought about how the stylist ignored Yumiko when she asked about her shoes. “She does have the most beautiful face. They probably put her in black so she wouldn’t overshadow the rest of us.”

“There you go,” he said quickly. I didn’t know what else to say after that, and we both grew quiet.

The last wash of orange skimmed along the edge of the adjacent building, sliding below and out of sight within minutes.

“What ya doing?” Alex asked, when the pause had gone on for a minute.

“Just watching the sun go down. It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time.”

“How does a California sunset compare to a Texas one?”

“It’s different. It’s—I don’t know—brighter?” Texas sunsets are warm and the golden light soaks into treetops and long grass. They herald cicadas before the mosquitoes. This one was almost frosted in comparison. “The view here is terrible though. I’m sitting on my apartment landing. I wish I could’ve seen this from a tourist spot. Maybe see the Hollywood sign all glowed up.”

“There’s so much I miss about Texas,” he said. “The sunsets here suck. The blue lasts forever.”

When I walked back into the kitchen, dusting off the backs of my shorts, I found Yumiko at the plain IKEA table. She cupped a ceramic mug and flipped pages of an aged teen magazine. I could hear the low murmuring of Rose holding a conversation behind another wall. Without tearing her gaze from the dog-eared leaves, Yumiko asked, “Good talk with your friend?”

“Yeah, um, fine.” There was an uncomfortable beat of silence.

She turned another page. “Peter called. We have to go out and mingle again. Let the ‘people know about us.’” She spoke in what was supposed to be Peter’s voice.

I opened the fridge and leaned in to look. Apples, lettuce, skim milk. Meredith had an annoying habit of eating a few bites of something, then leaving the plate and utensil in the fridge and forgetting about it. A withered salad was turning into sludge on the middle shelf. I closed it without taking anything, and then our eyes met.

“Hot tea helps,” she said, lifting her mug off the table in a tiny salute. “It kinda . . . coats your insides, makes you feel like maybe there’s something in there.”

I leaned against the fridge. “I’m so hungry,” I confessed.

“I bought two kinds. Feel free. Kettle’s on the stove.” She turned her attention back to the magazine.

“Thanks.” I flipped the burner on and found a cup. I wanted to feel zen about this diet. If I leaned into it more, maybe I wouldn’t hate it as much. If I made it into a competition with myself . . .

Yumiko snapped her magazine closed and lifted her eyes to mine. “The walls here are thin,” she said. “Rose is probably talking to Viv again.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I knew nothing about the girl I’d replaced. Yumiko studied me for a long moment and then took a quick drink of her cooled tea as she shoved out of the chair. The conversation seemingly over, she retreated to our room.

That night, Yumiko settled into her somewhat squeaky mattress and her deep breaths did not start immediately. “Cassidy?” she whispered, and I could tell she was facing me across the short aisle between the beds. “Are you up?”

I shifted my body weight over so I was on my back, speaking toward the ceiling. “Yeah?”

“I was just curious . . . do you feel lonely?”

My eyes were open now, focusing on the shapes and dollops of light that played across the ceiling as cars moved on the streets below. I didn’t respond.

“Isn’t it weird?” she continued, taking my silence as a yes. “We spend all this time together, and then with all of these people, but it’s like we’re not social with anyone else. It’s like we’re in a bubble.”

“Yeah, I know,” I murmured.

Her springs squeaked again and she resettled herself on the bed. I stole a glance at the lump beside me in the dark. Yumiko was on her side, facing me, her legs balled up under the blanket. I could see the glitter of her eyes from several feet away.

“This must be hard for you,” she whispered. “I’m with my best friends here, but yours aren’t around. Cass, don’t be afraid to become our friend too.”

From then on, Yumiko and I continued soft conversations in the dark. It was easier for us to share anecdotes and thoughts when the lamps were off and the words could breeze across the room, light and fluttering, like autumn leaves drifting from branches.

6.

January 2001

Southwest Leg of the Mall Tour

Cassidy

Texas blurred by in a bright gray-and-yellow carousel outside the bus window. Meredith sat next to me in the back of the bus, rhythmically flicking the ends of her hair with a thumb.

Yumi snapped, “Can you stop?”

Meredith rolled her eyes but released her hair without saying anything.

We’d been traveling for a few weeks now—since the holidays—on a mall tour, and at last we had returned to my home state. I’d been excited to show off Houston but it’s nothing to note in January: cold, gray, with excessive amounts of plastic bags that blow around in the wind. We had visited one mall and then moved on without staying a night. The only positive was that Mom brought Melanie and Katie to the performance, grinning and proud, and I was able to let them hang out with us on the bus for a few minutes before we had to leave for Dallas. The twins had acted as if it was the coolest adventure in the world.