Just as Dani starts to knock, the door opens. Laughter spills out, along with a quite inebriated girl. Careful of those Jell-O shots, she warns.

They might get you all f.u.c.ked up.

And she definitely knows from experience. She stumbles toward a leafless hedge, hurls something thick and red. Dani and I go inside.

I Expect Her to Let Go Of me. She doesn't, at least not right away. Her hold is protective, possessive. The front room is packed tightly with people. We work our way through the human mesh, drawing more than a few direct stares. Can't be because we're together. I've never seen so many same-s.e.x couples before.

Not all in one place, laughing, downing drinks, making out in plain view.

Other than the girl-girl, boy-boy thing, it's like any party I've ever been to.

I wish I could say I feel comfortable.

I put my mouth against Dani's ear.

"What's everyone looking at?"

At first, I think she can't hear me.

She doesn't answer immediately.

Finally we push our way through the thick knot of people, into a semi- quiet corner. They're looking at you.

I know quite a few of these people.

They've never seen me with you before, or with anyone remotely like you. We are a topic of interest.

Sure enough, when I glance around, I see people checking us out. Evaluating. "What do you mean, not even remotely like me?"

Dani waves to a girl across the room.

She is tiny. Cute, in a boyish way.

That's Bianca, my old girlfriend.

See what I mean? Nothing like you.

This is all such new ground.

Every spark of self-confidence flickers. Did we have to run into her ex? "Were you in love with her?"

I guess I thought so at the time.

But love is a fragile thing. Easily broken. And what does it matter, anyway? I want to be with you now.

She Proves It With a kiss. Awkward at first, because I rarely kiss with people watching me. Yet I can't stop.

I want this. Want her. Don't care who knows. I thread myself into her arms, invite her tongue into my mouth. Oh G.o.d, it all feels so right, I don't want to stop.

I want to go further. Set no limits.

Dive deeper. Explore unknown territory. Find secret places. Climb steeper cliffs. Higher and higher.

My heart sunbursts in my chest and my eyes quiver open. Surely everyone is staring right now.

But I find only one. "Bianca."

I didn't mean to say it out loud.

Dani smiles. Don't worry. Better she knows about us. Now how 'bout we find something to drink?

I'm Not Much Of A Drinker In fact, I don't drink at all. But I don't need to say so. We start toward the breakfast bar, where a few people are filling their cups.

Dani asks what I want. I shrug.

"Surprise me." She reaches for a tall bottle of rum, manages to pour some over ice, when a voice sharp as snipped tin slices into us from behind.

Well, h.e.l.lo, Dani. I never knew you had a thing for femmes.

Dani turns to face Bianca. Good to see you, Bee. You know I'm not much into stereotypes.

Guess she is femme. Pretty, too.

Wait. Stereotype? What? "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, okay?" Anger flares, and as I start to walk away, Bianca mouths, Fake.

Kendra

Fake Is that what you are if you choose to improve the basic not perfect you?

Add a cup size or two.

Puff up your lips.

Reshape your nose.

Subtract an inch or two from your belly, b.u.t.t, and thighs.

Tighten your skin until what's left behind is blotch free.

Unlined. Then, quick, take a picture or two of you before it all falls apart again and you have to start over.

Two Days Until my surgery. Can't wait. Wish I had to wait much longer. I'm nervous.

Excited. Looking forward to fixing something wrong with me. Why couldn't I just be born with a perfect nose?

One thing for sure. I can't sit here all weekend thinking about Monday.

It being the first day of spring break, there isn't a lot going on to distract me. No lessons. No compet.i.tions. Nothing.

And anyway, I'm afraid to do anything too physical. If I got hurt, I'd have to wait even longer for the rhinoplasty.

But if I sit here at home, there will be a battle going on, with me at the center- fridge (which Mom just filled) vs. mirror.

The Mirror Always Wins But I'm sick and tired of the war.

Doesn't help when Mom brings home ice cream sandwiches ("light" ones, but still...) and (reduced fat, whatever that actually means) peanut b.u.t.ter.

Really, truly doesn't help when Jenna pigs out with one or both right in front of me. She does it to be spiteful. Likes watching my mouth water. Which p.i.s.ses me off, so then we fight, too.

Not up for any of that today.

There's a new Scary Movie playing at the Summit. I want to go. But not alone. Jenna's got something going on, and even if she didn't, she'd want to yack down candy and fake b.u.t.ter popcorn.

Aubree's at her grandparents', Shantell has been really weird and distant lately. And anyway, a movie date should be with a guy, except not someone who will put the moves on me.

Someone like... I pick up the phone.

"Sean? I was wondering if you had plans today. No? Well, I want to see Scary Movie 666...." Silence on the other end. Then a stupid question.

"Of course I'm not setting you up.

Why would I want to do that? Look, no strings. I just don't want to go by myself. Really? Awesome. There's a two fifteen matinee. Do you want to meet in the lobby, say around two? Exceptional."

In A Way I'm surprised he said yes. Maybe he's sick of moping around. It hasn't been all that long, but Sean is used to having someone on his arm. Wow. We do have kind of a lot in common, don't we? Chill, Kendra. Remember that you are good on your own. (Lonely.) Strong. (When people are looking.) In control.

(Hungry. Even though my stomach has almost forgotten how it feels to hold food.) Size two. (Fat. Fat. Fat. Just ask the mirror. It doesn't know how to lie.) Perfect. (Come on. Not surgery, not losing ten necessary pounds, not even implants can make me that. "Just about perfect" will have to be good enough.) Regardless I dress to impress, in a very short skirt plus leggings to keep my thighs thawed, and a too-tight sweater that defines my need for bigger b.o.o.bs. I could maybe go baggy on top, keep 'em guessing.

But that would make me look fat. Can't have that. Better to go for skinny, with a boost from a well-padded push-up bra.

I grab my jacket, start for the door, only for Patrick to whistle me to a stop.

Wait up. Are you going out? (Well, duh.) Were you going to let anyone know?

Obviously not. "Sorry. Just don't want to be late. I'm headed out to a movie."

Alone? What time will you be home?

It's generally polite to ask first, you know.

"Um, Patrick. Is something going on?" Not like he very often takes an interest in what I'm up to. "Because if everything's okay, I really need to go."

He comes closer, studies my eyes as if he needs to find something there.

Okay, look. I'm just going to ask.

straight out. Have you been in our medicine cabinet? Your mother is missing some of her prescription pills.

I could get snotty, but what good would that do? I won't even mention that I know they're Xanax, and that he was the one who did the prescribing.

"Not me," I say, and that's the whole truth. "If I were you, I'd talk to Jenna."

He Is Not The Type To confront, or want to play parent.

Still, he has more to say, if he can just figure out how to say it. I will definitely be talking to your sister.

I also think it's time to call a family meeting. Things seem to be spinning out of control, in totally the wrong direction. Prescriptions disappearing, kids who take off without telling their parents where they're going or when they'll be back. And then, there's you.

He tries to stop himself, but he's on a roll. Have you eaten anything today? I'm worried about you....

"Oh my G.o.d. Not you, too. I eat plenty! Worry about Jenna. I'm fine!"

Anger sizzles at the base of my skull.

I try for the front door, but Patrick stops me with a hand on my forearm.

You haven't answered my question.

Have you had anything to eat today?

I will do an intervention if I must.

Don't blow it. Don't blow it. Lower the blood pressure before you speak.

"I had some oatmeal." It's a flat- out lie, but he seems to believe it.

Wants to believe it. Okay, then. But you really should have some protein.

"I will." Another lie. "And I promise to eat all my veggies, too. May I go now?"

He smiles. I guess so. But I meant it about the family meeting. Over dinner. Tonight.

I Say Fine And he lets me out the door. I hurry to my car before he changes his mind.

My hands shake against the steering wheel, from lingering anger and also because Patrick happened to be right. I haven't eaten anything today.

I reach into the glove box. Grab a diet protein bar, take two bites. Three.

Half the bar should satisfy my stomach growl and keep me thinking straight. I put the rest in my pocket to nosh on while everyone else is eating Skittles and sucking on Slurpees.

By the time I reach the theater, the shakes have stopped too. I park. Buy a ticket.