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At night, she fixated, pulverized by her own manic doubt. She tried to remind herself of all the things she hated about Esme. The fact that she didn’t have a sense of humor, too consumed by her own dilemmas to laugh at someone else’s jokes. She was rude to her mother, pushing out her lower jaw and …

“I’m pretty tired,” she said instead. She faced Mitty and gave her a painfully polite smile. “Give me a hug?” She opened her arms and Mitty, unable to muster an argument, stepped into them, resting her chin on Esme’s shoulder. She swallowed, attempting to drown out her urge to cry. Esme pulled away…

Mitty couldn’t be certain if what they did was sex because she had nothing to hold it up against. She hadn’t yet learned what sex looked like between two girls, if sex was even possible without the burst of semen into the tip of an expired condom. With a boy, the act would’ve been obvious, marked b…

“You’re not going to hurt me, you know,” Bethel says flatly. Mitty almost believes her. Her eyes are watchful, disappointed. Usually, Mitty would at least have to fight off the urge to apologize. But there’s an unusual absence of remorse. So much that she finds herself searching for it, wanting to …

Lena has never been to a funeral. She’s embarrassed by how unprepared she feels for the event, how many questions she wants to ask before they arrive. Will it be an open casket, even though the death was violent? Are there seating arrangements based on relation? Is she expected to cry? What if she …