“Norman picked up a sketch, glanced at it, then put it back down on the table. "I saw Bea Williamson this morning," he said in a low voice. "Lurking about looking for cut glass." "Oh, of course," Mira said with a sigh. "Did she have it with her?" Norman nodded solemnly. "Yep. I swear, I think it's almost gotten ... bigger." Mira shook her head. "Not possible." "I'm serious," Norman said. "It's way big." I kept waiting for someone to expand on this, but since neither of them seemed about to, I asked, "What are you talking about?" They looked at each other. Then, Mira took a breath. "Bea Williamson's baby," she said quietly, as if someone could hear us, "has the biggest head you have ever seen." Norman nodded, seconding this. "A baby?" I said. "A big-headed baby," Mira corrected me. "You should see the cranium on this kid. It's mind-boggling.”

“He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.""Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony.""It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look."I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time.And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky.The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful.Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home."Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?""Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.”

“Meow,' Cat Norman said simply, parking his big butt by my foot and looking up at me. 'Meow.' 'I hate you,' I told him. He didn't even flinch.”

“Morgan sighed. "I," she announced, "am so pathetic.""You are not," I said."I am." She went over and straightened the cling wrap, corner to corner. "Do you know how many times I've brought in devilled eggs? This is, like, the only time I haven't been sobbing and that's only 'cause I cried all night. And Norman," she said, her voice rising to a wail, "sweet Norman, always just acts so surprised to see the eggs, and pleased, and he never, once, has ever acted like he knew what they meant.”

“Guess what?" Maggie said as soon as I walked into Celmentine's."What?"She clapped her hands. "I have a date to the prom!""Guess what?" I replied."What?""I don't." Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, and," I added, "I bought a bike.".... "Okay, let's just slow down." She held up her hands, palms facing me. "First things first. What do you mean, you don't have a date?""Just that," I said, sitting down at the desk. "Jason bailed on me.""Again?"I nodded."When?""About twenty minutes ago.""Oh, my God." She put her hand over her mouth: her expression was so horrified, like someone had died. "That's the worst thing ever.""No," I said, swallowing. "It's actually not.""No?"I shook my head. "The worst thing is that right afterward, I marched right into the bike shop and asked Eli to go with me, and he said no."She threw up her other hand, clapping it over the one already covering her mouth. "Holy crap," she said, her voice muffled. "Where does the bike come in?""I don't know," I said, waving my hand. "That part's kind of a blur.”

“So look," he began, leaning over the desk, "I was—""Excuse me?" Bethany said. Her voice was loud, even.Wes turned and looked at her. As he did so, I watched his profile, his arm, that little bit of the heart inhand peeking out from his sleeve."We can help you over here," Bethany said to him. "Did you have a question?""Um, sort of," Wes said, glancing at me, a mild smile on his face. "But—""I can answer it," Bethany said solidly, so confidently. Amanda, beside her, nodded, seconding this."Really, it's fine," he said, then looked at me again. He raised his eyebrows, and I just shrugged. "Okay,so—""She's only a trainee, she won't know the answer," Bethany told him, pushing her chair over closer towhere he was, her voice too loud, bossy even. "It's better if you ask me. Or ask us."Then, and only then, did I see the tiniest flicker of annoyance on Wes's face. "You know," Wes said, "Ithink she'll know it.""She won't. Ask me."Now it wasn't just a flicker. Wes looked at me, narrowing his eyes, and for a second I just stared back.Whatever happens, I thought, happens. For the first time, time at the info desk was flying."Okay," he said slowly, moving down the counter. He leaned on his elbows, closer to Bethany, and shesat up even straighter, readying herself, like someone onJeopardy awaiting the Daily Double. "So here'smy question."Amanda picked up a pen, as if there might be a written portion."Last night," Wes said, his voice serious, "when the supplies were being packed up, what happened tothe big tongs?"The sick part was that Bethany, for a second, looked as if she was actually flipping through her mentalRolodex for the answer. I watched her swallow, then purse her lips. "Well," she said. But that was all.I could feel myself smiling. A real smile.Wes looked at Amanda. "Do you know?"Amanda shook her head slowly."All right," he said, turning back to look at me. "Better ask the trainee, then. Macy?"I could feel Amanda and Bethany looking at me. "They're in the bottom of that cart with the brokenback wheel, under the aprons," I said. "There wasn't room for them with the other serving stuff.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?' I asked her.'You know,' she said, 'when you say stuff like that I just want to slap you.''What?''You heard me.' She picked up her beer and took a swallow, still watching me. Then she said, 'Colie, you should never be surprised when people treat you with respect. You should expect it.'I shook my head. 'You don’t know-' I began. But, as usual, she didn’t let me finish.'Yes,' she said simply. 'I do know. I’ve watched you, Colie. You walk around like a dog waiting to be kicked, and when someone does, you pout and cry like you didn’t deserve it.''No one deserves to be kicked,' I said.'I disagree,' she said flatly. 'You do if you don’t think you’re worth any better.”