SOPHIE
Monday morning smells like industrial floor cleaner and somebody's too-strong body spray, and I'm standing at my locker not actually looking for anything, just holding the door open so I have somewhere to put my face.
"You've been staring into that locker for like a full minute," Avery says, appearing beside me with her coffee thermos clutched like a security blanket. "Either you lost something important or you're having a moment. Which is it?"
"Neither. I'm fine."
"Sophie."
"I'm fine, Avery."
"Okay, first of all, you only use my full name when you're lying to yourself, not me. Second of all, your face is doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look like you're doing complicated math and none of the numbers are adding up right." She leans against the locker next
