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To my horror, Claire continued the introduction. “This is my sister’s friend, Marcus. ”

Josh turned toward Marcus. “Uh, yeah, ” he said. “How ya doin’? ” Laz gave Marcus a single nod.

Marcus let out a barely audible, “Hey. ” After a lengthy pause, where apparently none of us knew what to do, Marcus said, “I. . . better go get things set up, ” and headed for the back door.

Claire showed the boys to the TV and headed upstairs to primp. I hiked my camera bag over my shoulder and walked toward the backyard, hoping Marcus was serious about staying to help and hadn’t just taken off. I’d barely wrapped my head around doing this just for Claire. I really couldn’t do this whole production on my own.

Marcus stood by the trampoline, and I immediately let out a huge sigh of relief.

“I’m not exactly sure why you need me, ” he said.

My adrenaline rushed with hope that I could convince him to stay. “I had no idea it would be four of them, ” I said quickly. I decided to keep quiet about the fact that my parents were planning to get home early to be in some of the pictures. “Now I really need your help in setting up the shots. ” Before he could jump in with excuses, I rushed into photographer mode. “What do you think for the backdrop? The rosebushes, maybe? ” I walked toward them, tilting my head like I was considering angles, even though I knew this would not make a good background for any full body shots, with the broken lattice jutting out from behind.

But I was baiting him.

Soon Marcus came up behind me and reached forward, touching the lattice. “Over by the oak tree has a nice feel. ”

Exactly my thought. “You think? ”

He nodded, backing away to another part of our yard. “Or actually, with the four of them, you could try in front of the fence. ” He reached out his hands sideways, as if measuring it. “What if we draped something on it? ”

“That’s so perfect! You’re a genius. ”

I rushed into the house and riffled through our linen closet for something I could use. I found a large cream-colored bed sheet, and when I came back out, Marcus had moved the lawn furniture out of the way. He helped me drape the fabric so it hung nicely over the fence. Then I ran inside to grab the tripod my mom had found at a garage sale.

As I set it up, I swallowed hard. It felt like I was a real photographer, doing this for a living. This was beginning to feel way out of my league.

Even more so when the foursome strode out the back door in all their grad-gown glory. Jasmine’s chest looked even bigger in her gown, and Claire looked even skinnier in hers. I didn’t look forward to seeing what one of those did to my frame, come next year.

“Where do you want us? ” Laz clapped his hands together. The boys really were swoon-worthy. Josh wore dress pants and a white button-down shirt that made him look extra tan. He winked at me, and I realized I’d been dazedly staring at him for way too long.

“You got it set up okay? ” Josh asked, motioning to my camera. The camera that used to belong to him!

I nodded and cleared my throat, then motioned everyone over toward the fence. Jasmine and Claire murmured about how nice the fabric backdrop looked. Part of me wanted to give Marcus the credit. But the greater part of me knew that wouldn’t be smart.

I took my time focusing my camera as Claire and her friends hung out and chatted. Marcus stood beside me and whispered ideas about how to frame them, as if he knew how panicked I felt about it. While I made final adjustments behind my Nikon, though, I noticed the twitchy movements of the foursome. They were nervous about this too? That made me feel a little more at ease.

I walked toward them, clearing my throat again.

“So let’s start with you over here, ” I said to Laz. “And Jasmine can stand in front of you. ” I flashed Marcus a quick smile of Thanks for the idea. Then I waved my hand at Claire and Josh. “You two mirror them on this side. ”

I had never thought much about the fact that Claire was dating a younger guy, when she could probably get any guy her age or even older. But today, with Josh in different clothes, their age difference suddenly looked shockingly obvious.

Claire nodded to me with a permagrin plastered on her face. Josh patted her butt, but she swatted his hand away, looking annoyed. My sister was certainly not one for PDAs, even if Jaz and Laz so obviously were, always kissing or groping each other in the hallways at school.

I had to ask all of them to shift their angles until it looked right. When I looked through my lens, I could make better sense of what would work best, and I called out directions without taking my eye from the camera. The four became strangely quiet and obedient. You’d swear I was threatening them with a weapon.

It felt bizarre to have power over these people.

I thought I’d have trouble concentrating with both Josh and Marcus so close, but surprisingly, through my camera I wasn’t distracted at all.

I ended up having to move Jasmine and Claire a little farther apart. Jasmine was proof-positive that beauty and popularity could be bought, but even though her parents had paid for her perfect nose and eyebrows, and I suspected her boobs, every time I saw her beside my sister, she just wasn’t as naturally beautiful.

After a few shots in that position, I organized them in several different combinations and displays, all with Marcus’s help. I sat them in chairs and made them wear sunglasses. Some of the pictures would be bizarre, but I was having a great time watching them run around like puppy dogs after my every command.

After I’d shot all the poses I could think of, I led Claire over by the oak tree. “No, just Claire, ” I said when the others started to follow. I used almost a whole roll of film as I directed her. She was so photogenic, I didn’t want to stop. It was like photographing someone for a magazine cover.

Besides that, all my life, I’d wanted to impress Claire. To have her think I was worthwhile. And I could tell by the way she listened to my direction that this was my moment.

Halfway through my roll, I went over to Claire, pretending to adjust her cap for the shot.

“I think it’s time to take a break so you can fix your hair, ” I whispered.

She went running off, saying she had to use the bathroom. When she came back, it didn’t look any better.

“It still looks a little frizzy, ” I said, adjusting the cap again.

She took off again, this time with Jasmine in tow, and came back ten minutes later looking exactly the same. But now she patted her hair self-consciously every two seconds. Claire’s hair had always been shiny and thick and flawless. But now that I thought about it, hadn’t it been looking a little dull lately?

I decided not to say another word about it, not wanting to kill her confidence. I got back to work and finished the roll.

Shortly after, my parents arrived home. I avoided Marcus’s eyes at first, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at me. I knew he wasn’t crazy about being here when Mom was around, and I suspected it might be even worse with Dad here too. But surprisingly Marcus stayed right by my side and even said hi to them when they came over.

Mom didn’t seem to hear him, consumed with the backdrop and her oldest daughter, decked out in her grad gown. But Dad extended his hand toward Marcus.

Marcus looked down at it for a second, then he lifted his hand to shake it. Dad was pretty good with pleasant introductions. Much better than Mom, anyway.

Marcus’s shoulders relaxed when Dad finally left him alone to go shake the other boys’ hands. When the introductions were over, I said, “I’m ready for you all over by the fence. ”

I took the shots quickly. With such a large group, I didn’t move them around much, so I could be sure to keep them all in the frame.

“Maybe Marcus could take a shot so you could be in a picture, Loey, ” Claire said when I was just ready to wrap it up.

I looked down at my T-shirt and shorts. “I’m not dressed for it at all. ”

“But we need at least one family shot, ” Mom said. She was already taking over organizing this one for me, nudging Jaz and Laz to the outside and leaving a space for me between Claire and my parents.

Great, right in the middle. I glanced over at Marcus. Mom had still made absolutely no effort to say hello to him. She certainly hadn’t welcomed him into “the family shot” the way she had with Josh.

Suddenly that made me angry.

“Hey, Marcus, ” I whispered. “Help me figure out how to set the timer. ”

I’ve never been good when it came to electronics, but Marcus seemed to have a knack for it. As soon as he confirmed it was set, I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the cream backdrop. He stiffened, but he stood back against the fence with me in front of him.

“Wait, wha—” Mom started, but I could tell she was fumbling for words that wouldn’t sound too bitchy.

“Smile, everybody, ” I said. And hopefully they all did, because the flash went off only a second later.

After finishing the group shots, I claimed exhaustion. And really, I probably was, though it was hard to tell, with my pumping adrenaline.

“This was amazing, with the backdrop and the tree, ” Claire said in front of her three friends and our parents. “I have no idea when my little sister became Ansel Adams. ” Claire met my eyes, and there was something so close to admiration in hers, I wanted to cry. “You’re the best, Loey. ” Everyone nodded in agreement, and for that second, I almost believed that I was.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On the first Friday after school let out for the summer, I headed to the Arts Club. I bit my lip when I saw Marcus sitting at “our” table, waiting for me. We had coffee, and he paid without even asking me if I had cash.

“Thanks again for helping me with the grad photo shoot, ” I said. “The pictures turned out great. ” I passed him a copy of the one family picture that had both of us in it. His neck went a little pink. Surprisingly, Mom hadn’t gotten on my case about inviting Marcus into the shot. Hopefully she was softening toward him.

After looking at the photo for a few seconds, Marcus slid it into the front of a car magazine he’d been reading.

“It was weird, feeling like I was the one in charge of the photo shoot, ” I said.

“You were in charge, ” he said with an arched eyebrow, like I was being silly.

“Well, yeah, I know, but. . . ” I had to think of how to explain it to him. “You know how geese always fly in that V kind of formation? I just always thought of Claire as the front goose, you know, breaking the wind for little misfit birds like me. ”

He laughed. “You know that the front bird has to switch out, though, right? And another bird has to switch in. The front bird is always changing. ”

Hmm. He was right. Maybe that wasn’t a good example. Then again, maybe it was a good example after all. Maybe sometimes I did need to switch in and become more of the leader.

When it was time for dinner, I stood to head out. Marcus and I didn’t talk about seeing each other again, so I assumed I would come back to find him there next week. I still had his e-mail address, but for some reason I felt weird about using it.

* * *

I stayed around the house the next few days and watched TV whenever Claire’s soap operas weren’t on, or hung out in my room, listening to her rattle away on the computer down the hall. I thought a lot about Marcus. How often would be too much to drop by the Arts Club? If I went every day, would that seem clingy? And would he be there every day?

Claire interrupted my thoughts from my bedroom doorway.

“Wanna come to the movies with me and Jasmine? ” she asked.

“Sure, ” I said, trying not to register my shock. “What are we seeing? ”

“That new one with Miley Cyrus. ”

Even though it wasn’t my thing, I followed her out the door without complaining. It wasn’t often that Claire invited me to do “friend” things with her anymore, so who cared if it was a little perky for my taste?

“We should get inside, ” I said when I noticed Jasmine looking me up and down outside the theater. The way she kept scrutinizing me, you’d swear I’d worn my bra on top of my shirt today. I didn’t actually care what Jasmine thought, but I hoped her embarrassment wouldn’t rub off on Claire.

Jasmine flipped her enhanced blond hair over her shoulder and led the way, like she couldn’t get in there fast enough.

During the previews, Claire kept whispering to Jasmine about Josh.

“It was a big deal, ” she said. “Trust me, he was mad. ”

I leaned in to try to hear more. Even though I couldn’t make out many of their words, I got the gist. Josh and Claire had had a fight.

“Don’t worry, he still totally likes you, ” Jasmine said with a sigh, like this was barely worth talking about.

“How do you know? ” I blurted, and someone shushed me from behind. Claire and Jasmine both stared at me for a second, like I’d asked the question in Swahili. “I mean, how do you know when a guy likes you? ” I whispered. If someone like Claire had doubts, it had to be confusing. Besides, I didn’t want Jasmine to change the subject if Claire wanted to talk about this.

Jasmine chuckled. “You just. . . know. It’s, like, obvious. ” She looked at Claire with her eyebrows raised. I knew the look. The look that said, Tell me again why you brought your little sister? I couldn’t believe how much she changed when I didn’t hold a camera.

It’s not that I disliked Jasmine. She’d been hanging around since she met Claire in ninth grade. I guess I just wished she liked me.

And I wished I could talk to my sister more, now that there were important things to talk about.

* * *

I met Marcus again the next Saturday at the Arts Club, glad to be able to be myself around someone again.

Armando came up to us right away and asked, “You watch coffee all day? ”

Marcus nodded, so I did too. We didn’t have plans for the rest of the day, and it wasn’t like we had anywhere else to go.

Ten minutes after Armando left, a swarm of customers came through the door. I had never been in on a Saturday, and it caught me off guard. Marcus met the first couple at the counter, and within five minutes, a line up formed and he needed my help. I stood beside him taking orders, surprised at his expertise at making the specialty coffees. Had he done this before? He ground the espresso beans without even looking at them, and moved back and forth between machines with finesse.

Another hidden talent. Which only made me want to learn more about him. We were a pretty good team and worked without stopping until almost noon.

When the last customers had gone, Marcus pushed a silver canister in my direction. “Here. You try, ” he said.

I held the container under the big cappuccino machine and he talked me through making my very own latte. It was actually easier than I expected, and fun to be able to leave my milk under the spout to make it extra frothy. After that, we sat and silently drank our coffees, proud of our work. At least I was.

The next two hours passed without much activity.

“So. . . we’re seniors next year, ” Marcus said. “I guess we should think about what comes next. After high school. ” He paused, but not long enough for me to comment. “I gotta get out of Alder Grove. I started working on the old man’s Chevy the other day. ”

I wasn’t quite sure what one had to do with the other, but I nodded. It was the first time Marcus had ever said a word about his dad, or ever let on that Marcus had a part of his life he was unhappy with.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, ” I said. “But if I’m lucky enough to get into college, believe me, I won’t just throw that away. ” I couldn’t keep the bitterness toward Claire from leaking out in my voice. We’d been off school for two weeks, and she hadn’t been practicing ballet, or really doing much of anything, other than getting in my way and taking over the TV whenever I wanted it. Fortunately for her, I think our parents were too busy at work to notice.

At two in the afternoon, I glanced to the opening door and did a double-take. Shayleen strutted into the café with three guys I recognized from school. She was so busy talking, she didn’t notice me at first. But I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs. I watched her move through the place as though she’d been here many times. When she finally noticed me, she stood too far from the door to nonchalantly make a retreat, and had been looking at the counter for too long to pretend I wasn’t there.

I reached to pat down my hair, suddenly self-conscious. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might see people from school at the café, since I’d never known about the place until Marcus introduced me.

“What are you doing here? ” She pulled her arms across her chest.

“I work here, ” I said, with as much false confidence as I could muster. It was stupid to play this up like it was a real job. She could so easily find out the truth. I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted it to sound like I had more right to be here than she did. This was my and Marcus’s place.

“Oh, ” she said, glancing at the door. I knew she wanted to leave, to tell her friends, “Let’s go somewhere else. ” But at the same time she didn’t like to be pushed around.

“Iced mocha, ” she finally said.

Marcus started to make the drink while I took the other orders and made change. The boy right beside Shayleen paid for her coffee, and I wondered if this was a new boyfriend. And if so, why were the other two tagging along?

“Is it hot out? ” I asked the one guy who kept looking at me. Marcus and I hadn’t been outside the doors since nine a. m. so I had no idea.

“Yeah, ” Shayleen’s boyfriend said. “I can’t wait to get in the pool. ” He was the cutest of the three, but they all had a rough-around-the-edges, uncombed look about them.

Shayleen nudged her guy with an elbow. He stopped talking and they all got quiet. Finally I turned to help Marcus while they stood staring at us.

We brought their drinks to the counter. It didn’t surprise me when Shayleen directed her group to go drink them at the park. I let out a big breath after the door closed behind them. Marcus didn’t seem to notice my stress over the whole ordeal. Or at least he didn’t say anything about it.

Then another lull hit. Marcus walked around the café, talking more about the paintings on the walls, and I followed him. I liked his voice. It was quiet and deep for a seventeen-year-old. He rambled on about his favorite Michelangelo repro.

“And this is a van Gogh, ” he said, moving on to another one. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. The original sold for eighty-two and a half million. ” He nodded his approval toward it.

Then he moved on to the next one. “The Yellow House, ” he said. “By some unknown, uh, Guy Roberts, I think. ” Marcus was already walking away from it. “Worth five hundred, at most. ”

The next painting, a new one—or at least, one I didn’t remember from my last visit—was disturbing. An older man held a young boy down by his throat. With his other hand he held a knife.

“Wh—who’s this by? ” I asked.

Marcus swallowed so loud I could hear it. “Uh, Caravaggio, ” he said. “It’s pretty. . . famous. ” He angled his face away from me, a hardness forming around his jaw. It was a difficult painting to look at, but looking at Marcus was almost harder. I wanted to reach for his hand. But just as I worked up enough courage to do it he headed back to our table, sat down, and started sipping his coffee.

When Armando returned, he shuffled through the door and over behind the counter. Then he came over and dropped two twenties on the table between us. Not exactly top dollar for a full day’s work, but we both beamed anyway. We’d made it ourselves.

“You good kids, ” he said to us in his heavily accented tongue.

We thanked him as he walked away. Then he turned back and said, or asked, I couldn’t tell quite which, “You work Saturdays now. ”

And that’s how Marcus and I got our first jobs.

* * *

I told my parents as soon as I got home.

“Good for you, honey, ” Dad said from just outside the front closet.

Mom, pruning the plants in our living room, seemed slightly more interested. “Hmm. What kind of job? ”

“It’s just a Saturday thing, Mom. It’ll be good experience, and it’s not like I do anything else on Saturdays. It’s probably just for the summer. ” I didn’t know why I felt the need to convince her, since she didn’t seem to be arguing.

Claire sat quietly on the couch. She just followed me around the room with her sad eyes while one of her favorite movies played in the background.

I wanted to say something to her, but I was afraid it would come out in a scream. Why don’t you just get a friggin’ job? I mean, if you’re not going to bother going to college. . .

But before I could complete my ranting thoughts, Claire interjected, “Yeah, I got a job, too! ”

“Oh? ” Dad was about to reach for the front door, but stopped and looked between me and Claire. “Well, that’s great, honey. ”

Mom jumped in, “I didn’t know you’d been applying. It won’t get in the way of your ballet practice, I hope? ” She stopped watering her plants and turned to Claire.

What ballet practice? I wondered. Sure, she’d been going to her summer class once a week, but other than that I hadn’t seen her dance bag leave its spot inside her bedroom door even once since school let out. Not like last year, when she was always dancing in her room or even booking extra time at the studio.

Claire crossed the room toward the stairs, not looking at any of us. “Oh, no, of course not, Mom. But I need to save some money for when I get into performing-arts school. It’s probably more expensive than regular college. ”

The “probably” made it clear, at least to me, that she hadn’t looked into that yet, and part of me wondered if she ever planned on it.

“What schools have you been considering? ” Mom asked, possibly thinking the same thing.

“Oh, there are so many of them, ” Claire said. “I’ll. . . have to order some brochures. ”

With Claire’s vague answers, Mom quickly changed the subject back to Claire’s new job, asking her a million questions about where it was and what she’d be doing.

Claire was halfway up the stairs before she turned back and said, “I’m just starting as a stock girl at Carmine’s Clothing. In the back, ” she added. “It’s no big deal. ”

But of course, it was a big deal that Claire was doing something. Because it was always a big deal whenever Claire did anything.

Even though it felt like everything had changed since I’d worked on the photo-set and discovered my ability with photography, standing in my house with my family, I realized that nothing had changed.

Claire would always overshadow me. My life wasn’t as important as hers.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Most days, Claire didn’t get home in time to eat with us, or said she’d just grabbed something on the way home, but when she did, she spent most of the time moving her food from side to side. She took tiny bites—one pea, or a single grain of rice—then went back to rearranging her plate. I wondered what consumed her, since she still wouldn’t talk to me about anything real. If I watched her for long enough, she started eating normally.

Tonight, though, she stole the chicken drumstick before I even had a chance. Mom always put one drumstick aside for Dad, and Claire and I usually at least discussed who would get the other one, but I’d just assumed that with her new diet, I’d get it this time.

“I thought you were a vegetable now, Claire. ”

She raised her eyebrows. “Very funny. Actually, Loann, I still eat a lot of vegetables. I’m just trying to be smart. I need some protein for my muscles, too. ”

She only called me Loann at home, when she was pissed. So, what, she couldn’t take a joke now either?

Mom didn’t seem to notice the way Claire ate—or didn’t—so the next night, I tried to point it out to her.

“Claire, ” I said pointedly, “can I get you some more mashed potatoes? ” I scooped a big dollop out of the bowl and moved it toward her plate. I don’t know why I felt so antagonizing toward her. Maybe I was just trying to force her to pay attention to me again. To remember who I was and that we used to actually like each other.

“No. Thank you, Loann. ” She pulled her skimpily decorated plate closer to herself.

“How’s your meal, Claire? ” I pressed. “Not much there, huh? ”

Claire’s eyes widened, like she couldn’t believe what I’d said, but it was pretty much just stating the obvious. “Well some of us watch what we eat, ” she snapped back. “Why don’t you look at your own problems, first? ”

I swallowed. She was right, of course. I never really held back from eating whatever I wanted. And because of that, I was too embarrassed to wear a bathing suit without a big T-shirt over my top every summer.

Mom, off in her own world, quietly jabbed at her own dinner, and I had to wonder, Didn’t she care about anything that happened at the dinner table anymore?

* * *

Marcus didn’t show the next Friday at the Arts Club. Even though it had only been a few days, I missed him. I headed home to check and see if he’d e-mailed me, expecting to find the house empty, but Claire sat alone on the couch. She just stared at the wall and didn’t seem to even flinch when I said hi to her.

I walked around the far side of the couch to see her face. Tears streaked her cheeks. Was she still upset over our argument about food last night? Or was it something more serious? I went over and sat beside her.

“You’re not working today, ” I said softly.

That’s when she started to really cry. And not her normal, prim little snivels. Big, snotty, crocodile tears.

“Oh, Loey, ” she said. “Oh, Loey, it was awful. ” With a big flourish, she threw her face into her hands. I reached over and patted her back, expecting her next words to be about getting fired, but then she wailed, “We broke up! ”

It took me a second to catch up. “Wait, you and Josh? ”

She let out an even louder wail, so I rubbed circles on her back as it pulsed up and down. I certainly didn’t expect the two of them to get married or anything, but Jaz and Laz had been dating for so long that I just assumed Josh and Claire would too.

I was also surprised at the relief I felt that they weren’t together anymore. I’d always thought I was happy for Claire, getting the Josh. But maybe. . . I wasn’t.

“What happened? ” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away, but draped her long, slender body over my shoulders in a hug. I moved my hands around to her back and continued circling. When we were younger and closer to the same size, we used to hug all the time or, at the very least, throw an arm over the other’s shoulder. This felt so awkward now. We were such different shapes. But still, I was happy to have my sister needing me.

“It just. . . I don’t even know, ” she finally breathed out between her sobs.

After several minutes of me soaking up her tears with my dark green T-shirt, she inched back to her place on the couch. Then she smoothed her capris and said, “You’re the best, Loey. ”

Even though I hadn’t done anything, her words made my insides flutter. They made me remember long-ago days, when we knew how to help each other. I knew this wasn’t the time to talk about her weird eating, but I also wondered if this was the cause of it. Now that it was over between them, sure, she’d probably be upset for a few days, but then maybe she’d be less stressed. She’s so beautiful and popular, I had no doubt that she’d find a new boyfriend in no time.

Claire stayed in her room through dinner that night, and left early the next day for work. I figured she probably needed a breather from talking about it, so I made excuses to Mom for her. A few days later, I noticed that she wasn’t talking to Jasmine, either. She usually spent her evenings at the very least gabbing on the phone, but these days she just sat on the couch, watching TV with me. Mom and Dad both headed back to their jobs most evenings, if they even made it home for dinner, so Claire and I were left on our own. We didn’t really talk much, and some days she didn’t want anything to eat—not even a salad. I tried to keep the conversation light and happy, to let her know she didn’t have to talk about Josh if she didn’t want to, but she seemed to be in a cranky mood no matter what I said. She flipped TV shows, even when I was watching one. She played cell-phone games with one hand and held a death-grip on the TV remote with the other. Rather than arguing with her, I headed for my room and lay on my bed to think.