The Prettiest

by Brigit Young

  Silver Ledge sat at the border of town, teetering between school districts. The rent was high, way higher than if they moved a few streets away to the apartments in Oakwood, but Sophie knew her mom stayed there because she wanted Sophie and Bella to go to the better public schools, even if it meant extra night shifts. Her dad sent money sometimes, and that helped, too, when it came.

  As the bus rode farther into town, the houses grew bigger and bigger, until eventually they passed by Brody Dixon’s place, which was practically a castle. He not only had a bedroom for each sibling, and an office for his dad’s fancy job, and a room with a huge TV with every video game you could think of, he also had a room that—no joke—only the dog slept in. A dog room.

  She’d noticed it last week, on a day he’d invited her over to do homework, back when she’d been the prettiest. A day when he’d leaned toward her, his mouth all puckered and hopeful. And pushy.

  As they passed by his mansion, Bella elbowed Sophie and made smooching noises.

  “Oh, shut up.” But Sophie smiled.

  Bella did this nearly every day.

  Would she stop doing it if Brody started ignoring Sophie? Would he ever ask her over again? Would he be too embarrassed to go to the Halloween dance with number two?

  Sophie pulled out her cracked pocket mirror and checked her face. She swiveled her profile side to side. The full inspection. Perfectly even foundation, blended down to midneck. Perfect, bright eyes. Lips painted a perfect pink. Perfect.

  She ruffled Bella’s hair as her sister hopped off at the elementary school.

  And as the bus pulled up to Ford, she gave her reflection one last glance in the window and headed into battle.

  5

  EVE

  The crowds parted for Sophie Kane, like a queen among peasants. Eve could see the back of her yellow hair, bouncing behind her. Was it possible for hair to sparkle? Sophie’s did.

  And then, as Eve and Nessa waved bye to Eve’s mom and climbed out of the car, something strange began to happen. The crowd parted for them, too. Small groups split off and tightened, whispering to one another as Eve and Nessa walked by the bust of Henry Ford and through the school’s enormous front doors.

  Eve slouched her shoulders forward, attempting to sink in her chest and disappear into Abe’s Detroit Pistons T-shirt.

  “What do you think they’re saying?” she murmured to Nessa. “Do you think they think I wrote the list? It really bugs me that Curtis thinks I wrote the list.”

  “Who cares?” Nessa answered. “This, too, shall pass,” she mouthed to Eve as they parted ways for homeroom.

  Easier said than done. Why didn’t Nessa get that?

  As Eve headed down the hallway, she felt her phone buzz and saw a text from an unknown number. It read: u look real good today

  Eve checked all around her. Who had her number? Who was watching her?

  Inside Mr. Flynn’s class, the bright overhead bulb made it feel like an interrogation room. No one was crying this morning. Instead, they stared at Eve. Miranda Garland smiled and waved. Eve saw that Miranda wore a necklace with a gold hamsa on it. How’d she get one so fast? Why’d she get one?

  A woman in a tight pencil skirt and a white blouse stood at the front of Mr. Flynn’s desk. Behind her, Eve saw a PowerPoint presentation had been set up.

  WHAT IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT? it read.

  The boy next to her jiggled his knee and bit his fingernails.

  The woman introduced herself and launched into her routine. “I’ve been brought here today, along with my colleagues currently in the other classrooms, to talk to you all about an incident that occurred yesterday. Who here knows what sexual harassment is?”

  She said “harassment” with an emphasis on the first syllable—hairissment—and a few snickers could be heard around the room.

  As she continued, every time she said “hairissment,” which was a lot, the giggles grew louder and louder.

  Eve took out her notebook, pretended to take notes, and instead secretly scribbled poems.

  When the bell rang, Mr. Flynn called her over. He waited to speak until everyone was gone.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  Eve felt herself blush. She always blushed, even if she wasn’t embarrassed. It was like her face was trying to tell the rest of her body to hide.

  “I’m fine,” she answered.

  The thought of Mr. Flynn looking at her face and thinking about how someone had called her the prettiest girl in the school filled her with dread. Was he thinking, “How could this awkward kid be prettiest?” Was it weird of Eve to even wonder that? Was he judging her just like everyone else was? Did he think she wrote the list herself?

  “I just wanted to remind you that the counselors are available to talk. That’s their job, you know.” His eyebrows furrowed in that kind of ultraconcern that you never want to see on a grown-up’s face.

  “Yup,” Eve mumbled.

  “Okay … And Principal Yu is available, too,” he added. He seemed to want this conversation even less than Eve did.

  “Thanks. I’m fine, though.” Eve held her notebook and schoolwork tight to her body and rushed out the door into the gawking crowds.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Eve saw that sparkly blond hair again, reflecting glints of hallway light. And Eve gasped aloud as she saw that underneath the tips of Sophie’s hair, a piece of paper had been taped onto her dark red shirt, the loud black Sharpie on it yelling out #2.

  6

  SOPHIE

  Sophie felt a hand on her back and turned around to see the short, mousy Eve Hoffman standing before her.

  It was bad enough that Eve Hoffman even felt she could talk to her in the first place, but for her to touch Sophie? That was over the line. Who did she think she was?

  Sophie had learned a long time ago, on the rare times her dad came to stay with them and was super upset with her or Bella for something, that silence could be more powerful than yelling. So she just glared.

  Two enormous brown eyes looked back up at her.

  “This was—was on your—your…” Eve Hoffman made a motion toward Sophie’s back.

  Eve Hoffman held a Post-it reading #2.

  Sophie snatched the paper out of her hands and crumpled it up.

  “I’m so sorry. Someone must’ve…” Eve Hoffman didn’t seem to have the ability to finish a sentence.

  Eve’s hair was a disaster. Bits of it peeked out from every corner of her skull, covered in a light layer of frizz. She wore some kind of navy blue sports shirt and black jeans, the colors clashing. Even while dressed in a glorified bag, Sophie could see that she had what Brody called “a body.” He always talked about celebrities and said some had “a body,” or sometimes he’d say, “Ugh. She doesn’t even have a body.” Sometimes when he said this, Sophie thought, “Brody, we all have bodies. It’s called … existing.” But she kept this to herself.

  Eve Hoffman clearly wanted to add something, but once again it came out in disjointed stammers.

  Actually, on second thought, maybe Eve Hoffman wasn’t so mousy. Her eyes were Disney-princess big. Her face had that Snow White quality about it, all fresh and super pale, but in the creamy way, not the vampire way. Her mouth and cheeks had a natural reddish blush to them. Was she not even wearing any makeup? She just … glowed?

  And in an instant, in a sudden shift that so often happened to her, Sophie hated herself with intensity. She hated her own limp, straight hair that needed a curling iron, her tired complexion that needed a makeup base to look good, hated how her upper lip was so skinny that it disappeared when she smiled. She hated her muscular body, how her shoulders, arms, and legs looked like a boy’s from behind. She had a body, sure, but not “a body.” She was too tough-looking. And much too flat.

  She was no Eve. No number one. The list was right.

  Sophie clenched her fist around the Post-it. Her nails dug into her palm. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything to dismiss Ev
e Hoffman, Brody walked by.

  Sophie allowed her frown to transform into a broad smile, though she tried to push her top lip out as she did so, to make sure it wouldn’t fade into her teeth.

  “Hey!” She lifted her hand to give him their typical high-five greeting. He usually smacked her hand, then put an arm around her shoulder and strode down the hall with her that way until a hall monitor yelled “No touching!”

  Brody smacked her hand, but he didn’t put an arm around her. Instead, he turned to Eve Hoffman.

  “There you are, Eve. Eve Hoffman.” He grinned.

  Eve’s mouth remained open, words still not coming out. She looked exactly as spacey as Hayley had reported.

  Brody put his hand on Eve’s arm and guided her toward the side of the hall, leaving Sophie behind. Sophie scrambled to hear what they were saying. She put an earphone in one ear to muffle the hallway chaos and leaned her other ear in their direction.

  Sophie caught Brody saying: “Would you think about…?”

  Then she heard nothing except a gaggle of theater kids running by her, singing some obnoxious song.

  In the quiet that came after, she made out: “It’ll be fun.”

  And it dawned on her what she was witnessing.

  “Okay, I’ll wait. Just let me know.” Brody winked as he walked away from Eve. He gave Sophie a light pat on the back and said, “See ya, Soph.”

  As Sophie fully took in that Brody had just asked Eve Hoffman to the Halloween dance, she knew with an immediate certainty that Eve wanted to take her place. She’d probably written the list herself. She’d been trying to put that Post-it on Sophie’s back. It had all been a plot to get Brody’s attention.

  And as Eve slunk away and out of her sight, Sophie stared at her hard enough to let her know that she would never, ever get away with it.

  7

  EVE

  Text message, walking into lunch, a new unknown number:

  u r so perfect. Go to haloween dance w me or no?

  its curtis

  Text message, five minutes later, same number:

  sorry about yesterday u mad?

  8

  SOPHIE

  Sophie couldn’t wait for school to end, for blessed track practice, where she could run and run and just keep running, faster than everyone else, and win the race. It was also her only time away from the Sophies. She’d convinced them long ago that they shouldn’t join the team. At first Hayley had resisted, but Sophie informed Hayley it might conflict with swimming practice and the swim team was sure to get into regional competitions that year. Sophie had breathed a sigh of relief when Hayley bought that argument. Track was Sophie’s thing.

  At lunch, her whole table sat quietly. At one point, out of nowhere, Rose Reed, who had somehow popped up only a few seats away from Sophie, turned to Sophie and said: “Hey, don’t worry. First is the worst, second is the best, right? We’ve been told that, like, forever!”

  “Did I say I’m worried? What are you, ten? It’s been a whole day, and we’re all moving on, okay?” Sophie snapped before returning to her mashed potatoes. They gave huge portions at school. It was awesome. You didn’t even have to worry about making a big dinner if you ate your whole lunch.

  God, who would put Rose in the top ten? She wore capris in the winter with high socks. It was like a joke! Maybe that was exactly it. Maybe if Eve wasn’t behind the list, then someone wrote it as an actual joke.

  But the problem was that the rest of the school had to see it that way.

  She tried not to look at Eve, practically glued to her theater friend at their corner table, but she couldn’t help it. And she felt a strange satisfaction at seeing Miranda Garland stand by Eve, pestering her with questions. Miranda had always done everything Sophie did—copying her clothes and hairstyles nearly day by day. It was almost amazing to see her do it to someone else.

  And then it wasn’t. Because what would that mean for the next day? And the year ahead? If no one copied Sophie, then there were no more Sophies. And then there was no more Sophie Kane.

  The boys joined them midlunch, as always, but, once again, Brody didn’t put his arm around her. And Sophie wasn’t stupid. Sophie saw clearly that within only a day, everything had changed.

  9

  EVE

  Text message, after fifth period, unknown number:

  i know you stuff your bra

  10

  NESSA

  Nessa knew that life was about waiting for the right moment—your moment. Not every moment could be yours, but then when it came, it was so sweet.

  Nessa got it. She got the lead, the role of Marian the librarian, like she knew she would.

  The cast list hung on the choir room door.

  “Two lists in two days,” she heard Erin O’Brien grumble behind her. “Just great. I’ll probably be Woman Number Three in the chorus.”

  But when Erin arrived at the list, she saw that she’d been cast in a big role and she spun around in circles in her purple wheelchair, getting high fives from everybody.

  “Congrats!” Nessa beamed as Erin smacked her palm. Well deserved. Erin had an alto voice to die for.

  Yes, Nessa assumed she would get the lead role, but you never knew for sure. You never knew if no matter how good Nessa was, that they’d go for the “pretty, stick-thin girl” as the lead and the “big and talented girl” for the funny mom. But it was Nessa’s voice that was so big that, in a just world, nobody could deny it. Plus, she was going to rock that librarian costume. She’d look so cute.

  Nessa looked over at Lara Alexander, who had come back to school that day, and couldn’t help but feel a little good that Lara was disappointed with her part. At callbacks, the role of Marian had been between Nessa and Lara, and girls like Lara got so many other things. This belonged to Nessa.

  Did thinking that make Nessa a horrible person?

  Nessa went over to Lara, and even though Nessa hadn’t said anything mean out loud, she tried to make up for her own nasty thoughts.

  “Lara, you’re going to be hi-lar-ious in your part. I can’t wait to see you do it. Oh my gosh, the audience is going to go bananas.”

  Lara smiled, and that was good.

  And Nessa smiled, too, because both their names were on the only list that mattered.

  Behind her, Nessa heard a group of boys’ voices.

  “I have to kiss her,” one voice complained.

  Brody. Brody Dixon. He’d gotten the other lead, the part of Harold Hill, the guy she had to fall in love with.

  Look, she wanted to say, I’m not so thrilled about it, either, slimeball.

  The other boys laughed. “Dude, I’m so sorry.”

  Was that Caleb? Caleb Rhines? What a traitor. She always helped him in jazz band when he lost his spot in the music.

  Brody must have known she could hear him. Right? Who would say something like that when they knew people could hear? Nessa turned to look right at him.

  Brody met her stare and strolled up to her, acting like he’d said nothing. He smiled his symmetrical smile and put a hand on her shoulder. She tried not to grimace.

  “We’re going to be amazing,” he said to her.

  He waited, as if she was supposed to smile or giggle or bat her lashes in response. Nessa raised an eyebrow at him. “We’ll see.”

  His grin stayed plastered on his face as he added, “It was really nice of Mr. Rhodes to choose you for the part. He’s such a good guy, right? You’ll be great.”

  What in the world was that supposed to mean?

  Brody walked back toward his friends, and they laughed about something—maybe her—as they headed toward the school’s front doors to leave.

  “You think my dad is gonna waste his time at a ‘community meeting’ tonight?” Nessa heard Brody joke as he led his boys off.

  “It was really nice” to choose her? It wasn’t “nice”! She had earned it! Brody got his part because he was handsome in that actory way. The boy couldn’t sing his way out of a pape
r bag! Good thing most of the Harold Hill songs were talky and he could fake his way through them!

  Oh man, was she angry.

  Nessa tried to think of what her mom liked to say. Find your center. Her mom’s center was probably Jesus. But for Nessa, it was some other feeling, some other strength within her that she didn’t have a name for yet and only felt when she sang.

  Find your center, Nessa.

  No luck.

  Mr. Rhodes was a “good guy” for casting her? What?

  Why did she have to exist in a school with boys like Brody in it? And why did his ridiculous opinions have to gnaw at her so relentlessly? Maybe it was because she worried that his opinion mattered the most. If not to her, then still to the rest of the school. The world.

  She wanted to scream, but instead she texted Eve.

  Got the part! ☺

  Then she took a breath, made her face match the smiley emoji she’d just sent, and turned to the other theater kids, ready to celebrate and to pretend that nothing ever hurt.

  11

  SOPHIE

  As her feet slammed against the dirt of the track, an electric shot of pain ricocheted from her heels to the back of her knees. But the pain didn’t matter. It felt good to move so fast.

  Just keep running, she told herself. Beat your time. Win. Her legs pulled her ahead of every other kid on the track.

  There must be proof somewhere that Eve Hoffman created the list. Evidence. Or maybe Sophie didn’t even need that. Maybe she just needed to start a rumor that Eve wrote it. Everyone would turn on little Eve Hoffman and think, “Of course some freak put Sophie Kane as number two so they could be number one. Because Sophie Kane is obviously number one. And everyone wants to be Sophie.”