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Another burst of laughter erupted from my mouth, because she was right. And that was part of the reason why I could definitely wait.

“But I guess that doesn’t matter,” my friend said. “You don’t see them during sex anyway, right?”

There was a knock at the door. Ava’s mom didn’t open it, but when she spoke, her voice sounded like she was beside the bed.

“Girls, you need to get to sleep. And even if you don’t care if you’re tired on your first day of school, your dad works tomorrow and needs his rest, and Robbie has his first day of school tomorrow, too. ”

“Okay, mom.” For a few moments, we were quiet as we listened to her mother’s footsteps pad back down the hall. After half a minute, Ava hissed, “Are you serious, though? That you don’t want to marry anybody from Dalton High?”

“Yeah.” I kept my voice low as well. We’d been down this road before, threatened for disrupting her parents’ sleep.

“My mom said that, too. That I need to wait until I have a good job and can take care of myself. Then I can get married.”

“I think that’s what my mom wanted, too.” The first tendrils of sleep had begun lacing themselves through my gray matter, and I didn’t fight the yawn that escaped from my mouth.

“I bet I can hold out longer than you can. ”

I had the urge to say ha! and challenge that fallacy.

Ava had always been the boy crazy one, and here she was talking about meeting her future husband tomorrow.

I was excited and hopeful but not expecting anything spectacular.

As for marriage, sure, I knew I’d want to someday, but it wasn’t my top priority.

“To get married? No way. You’ll be married way before me. ”

She sat up in bed. When I opened my eyes, I could see her outline, thanks to the ambient light in the room, but I had to guess at her facial expression. “Nope. I have to get established in my career, and that could take years. A husband and kids would ruin that.”

I could top her, though. It was these competitions that usually kept me feeling better about our relationship, because I sometimes felt like I won these stupid conflicts.

“Me, too.” My secret dream had always been to be famous—whether as an actress or a model or maybe even a newscaster, I didn’t quite know yet.

Even though I didn’t think I was beautiful, I’d seen that cameras were more than kind to me—and when I looked at my picture or a video of me, I felt like I was looking at someone else. “What about a live-in boyfriend?”

“That doesn’t count. It’s not the same thing.”

And I knew that was where I had her. Too bad she couldn’t see my smug nod in the dark.

“Good.” I was surprised she didn’t say anything, because I knew her parents would frown on anything that resembled “living in sin.” I’d spent the night enough and gone to church with them plenty of times to find that they had pretty strict ideas of what was morally okay and what would send you to hell in a heartbeat.

By this point, her parents either thought they had been wonderful influences on me and my immortal soul or figured I was a lost cause.

They treated me nicely enough, but I never knew for sure.

“Actually…maybe it depends on how serious it is.”

“Come on, Ava. You already said—. ”

“No, really. Look how many people have kids and consider themselves permanently together but never officially get married.” Well, maybe not in a tiny judgmental town like Nopal, but I knew there were plenty of celebrities like that.

“So I think it depends on the seriousness. That’s only fair, Dani. ”

“Okay, fine. If there are kids, then it’s like marriage.”

“So that’s my bet. You’ll get married—or have kids—before I do.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“Hmm.” She was having fun with this, and, as usual, I had no idea what the point was of all her musing.

“I think the winner should get…oh, I know! If you get married before I do, then you have to buy me a Fabergé egg. And vice versa. I’ll get you one if I get married before you.

” A Fabergé egg? That seemed ridiculous—but it was a silly bet anyway.

I stuck out my hand in the dark. “Let’s shake on it. ”

I could hear the grin on her face as she grabbed my hand. “Deal.”

“Girls, quiet down in there.”

With her mother’s reminder, we settled our heads onto our pillows and tried to dream about tomorrow. I don’t know how Ava fared, but my subconscious couldn’t conjure up notions about something I had no experience with.

I’d just have to wait.

I felt a little tired the next morning, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle, especially since I was eager.

After we both took turns showering, Ava insisted we eat a “power breakfast” of oatmeal made with fresh apples and cinnamon with sausage links and toast on the side and orange juice.

As usual, I didn’t question her authority in these matters .

The rest of the morning, we spent standing in front of her dresser.

It had a huge mirror, and her parents had installed a bank of lights above it, making it a built-in makeup table.

On top, Ava had all kinds of makeup and hair tools, and the collection grew as we got older.

Me? I had a tiny blue-and-white bag that I toted all my makeup around in.

At that age, I always spent more time on my hair than my face.

So I put my hair up in rollers and then began working on my eyes—eye shadow, liner, and mascara. Lip gloss would be the final touch, but Ava had other plans. “You really need to start wearing foundation, Dani.”

“Why?” I didn’t quite get the point. “My mom says I have a beautiful peaches-and-cream complexion.”

My friend frowned as she blended her foundation with a sponge into her jawline.

When the hell had she gotten so good at this?

I remembered a time when we’d watch women on YouTube doing this technique or that and giggling when trying our own hand at whatever it was they were doing—and now here Ava was acting like one of them.

Guess that was what I got for spending my free time reading.

“Yeah, you do have a nice complexion, but you have those red spots down on your jawline. Foundation would make your skin tone even.”

Geez. She even sounded professional. No wonder I deferred to her for everything.

And no wonder I felt inferior as she pointed out yet another flaw.

“Watch.” Before I could say a word, she dabbed a little foundation on my face and began blending it with the sponge. I closed my eyes as she began moving up my cheek and, after another minute or so, she said, “Look.”

Turning my head back to the mirror, I leaned over to get close. She was right—the ruddy part of my complexion was gone—but so was that peaches-and-cream look my mom had gaped over. It was even, all right, but I looked so… pale . And maybe a little older. Oh, and my freckles had all but disappeared.

“What else?” Now I was all in—and I knew what Ava had been doing all summer while I’d been visiting my grandma and grandpa up north.

“Watch me.”

So I did—and I imitated her every move. Except for the eyebrows.

I learned that day that I needed to pluck them before filling them in.

But when Ava brushed a hint of color on her high cheekbones, I added color to the apples of mine.

When she made her brown eyes look beautiful, she helped me with my blue ones.

Mine would never look as gorgeous as her almond-shaped ones, but her techniques made me feel glamorous.

By the time I was adding actual lipstick, I started feeling like I was fourteen going on thirty.

One area, though, where I had Ava beat was my hair.

Now, even though her short dark brown hair was cute as a button and she used various products to get it to do exactly what she wanted, my mane was my pride and joy.

My mom had cut my hair super short when I was five, and I hadn’t had it cut since.

It had never grown past the middle of my back, even with regular trims, but I didn’t want it short.

In fact, a year earlier, Ava had convinced me my face looked fat when I pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

So today when she tried to take over how I was styling it, I brushed her away—a tiny act of defiance—and asked her what she planned on wearing.

We wound up wasting so much time that we had to run to the bus stop at the end of the block.

But I noticed, as we found a seat close to the back, assessing classmates we hadn’t seen in a year, that they saw our transformation. Just as Ava had always promised me, we were no longer ugly ducklings .

We were now swans.

And our lives were truly beginning.

Speaking of swans, that morning had probably been Ava’s swansong with me. While I’d appreciated her tutelage in the makeup department, I’d been stifled by her for so long that I was ready to break free.

This was my chance.

By the luck of the draw, we did wind up having four classes together—which had been her plan—but that left me with two on my own: Spanish (because she wanted to take French, and I hadn’t budged) and I got lucky and sat in a different section of Algebra, thanks to said Spanish class.

But we had lunchtime together, too. And, while I reveled in what seemed to be the enormity of the school, mainly because I was surrounded by at least ten times the amount of kids I was used to, and enjoyed all the newness, I realized I was still under Ava’s shadow.

At lunch break during that first week, after we ate, we’d explore different sections of the school so we could better learn our way around.

I’d sometimes make eye contact with people I didn’t know, and I felt a shyness grip me that I’d never experienced before.

I didn’t know that I could blame that one on my friend—or maybe I could, because she’d always done my talking for me.

On Wednesday, we came across the huge board on the wall near the front entrance of the school.

It was filled with announcements (right now, it had a huge “Welcome Back” banner at the top), flyers, and the like.

Ava mumbled something about cheer tryouts, something I thought I might like to do but had zero confidence even thinking about it, when a bright yellow poster caught my eye .

Find Your Place and Make New Friends!

As my eyes scanned down the poster, I realized it listed lots of clubs and organizations I could join. Aha. This was how I could find a place to belong.

“Whatcha looking at?”

“This.” Without making eye contact, I pointed to the poster without making eye contact, because I didn’t want to give away my evil plan.

Just as I’d chosen Spanish class to get a little distance between me and my controlling friend, I wanted to do more where I could have a little breathing room.

If I’d said I wanted to be a cheerleader, she would have been with me in a second.

I knew that much. But there had to be something on this list that she wouldn’t care about.

The trick was finding something I’d like that she wouldn’t.

Foreign Language Club? Nope.

Future Business Leaders? No way!

“What the heck is FCP?”

To answer her, I read the first part of the description out loud for both of us.

“Fellowship of Christian Panthers.” As I skimmed through the description, I determined that it was for kids in sports but it was like some kind of church after school.

I was bored enough going to church with Ava on occasion.

Why would I want to do it at school? And I didn’t want Ava trying to talk me into trying out for volleyball.

Again.

So I continued going down the list. “Esports?”

“Boring.” I had to agree with her there…but I tucked it in my figurative back pocket, knowing she wouldn’t like it.

“The Knowledge Bowl might be fun.”

She didn’t disagree, so my eyes kept going down the list.

And I knew I’d discovered the answer before I even said it out loud. “Chess Club.” She didn’t say a word as I read through the short description. “Bring your brown bag lunch to Room 3A in the library every Thursday.”

“Oh, look, Dani. After School Photography Club.” Yep. She suspected she was losing me and this was her effort to rope me back in.

“I’m gonna try the Chess Club.”

I didn’t know if the frown on her face was because I was disobeying her wishes or some other reason. “You know I can’t play chess.”

I also knew she didn’t want to learn, but I could play stupid. “I bet they’ll teach you.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, I do. Sorry, but I’m going tomorrow.”

“You won’t be able to eat in the cafeteria, it sounds like.”

“That’s okay.”

“But…I’ll have to eat by myself.”

She was pulling out all the stops. After coercion didn’t work, manipulation by guilt was a favorite Ava tactic.

But I’d grown good at countering. “You can eat with Kelley or Michelle—or even Becky.” They were all sometimes friends , and Ava knew it.

We’d gone to many a middle school slumber party with many fringe friends and we Nopal kids were still hanging together a little as we settled into this new environment.

Hammering the nail into the coffin, I said, “Besides, it’s just once a week.

” To further assuage her, I added, “And what if I don’t like it? Then it’ll be like nothing happened.”

Ava was frowning, no doubt trying to think of a new tactic, but the more I thought of her trying to change my mind, the more stubborn I grew.

Even if I hated it, I was going to stick it out through…

Halloween, I told myself. Ava needed to know I wasn’t her little puppy dog anymore, and I wasn’t going to come running to her every beck and call.

You know those moments that define your life, those ones that seem so insignificant at the time? That was the moment for me. Chess club changed my life forever, and not just because it got me away from Ava, and not just because I’d begun to assert myself.

Chess club was where I met Zachary Ryan for the first time.