The Underdogs by Sara Hammel

Author:Sara Hammel
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374301637
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

Before

One day in late July, Evie overheard something she shouldn’t have. Annabel’s BFF from St. Claire High, Portia, was speaking in hushed tones to Celia as they freshened up in the women’s locker room.

Portia was saying that Annabel was upset about something. And that it was big. Evie recalled it vividly because it was such a surprise to her that someone like Annabel even had problems. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, Portia said, standing in front of a mirror, brushing her long brown hair over and over. She’s been my closest friend since we were in kindergarten. I can tell when something’s up.

Celia had piped up with teenage-girl platitudes: She’s probably PMSing. It’s just a bad day. She seems fine to me! But Portia had shaken her head “in a foreboding manner,” according to Evie.

That’s not it, Portia had said. I’m worried, and I’m going to Europe with my parents tomorrow for the rest of the summer.

Evie had walked away from that with a sixth sense that something was very wrong.

Later that same day, with this encounter weighing on her mind, Evie bumped into Annabel herself. It was an odd twist of fate that the beauty happened to stay extra late on a day when Lucky had completely forgotten about Evie again. My mom was off duty, so I wasn’t even around to keep her company. Evie ran into Annabel in the otherwise empty ladies’ room.

“Hey,” Annabel had said to her.

“Hey,” Evie said back coolly, as she relayed it to me later.

“How’s it going?” she asked Evie.

“Good,” Evie said. “How about you?”

Annabel hesitated. “I’m good,” she said finally, and smiled at Evie, who later described it to me as a sort of hungry expression.

Annabel moved a few feet away from the sinks to the full-length mirror and started examining herself, turning sideways, sucking in her nonexistent tummy. Annabel hadn’t looked quite so perfect then. Her hair, usually straight and shiny, was mussed just the smallest bit, and then Evie saw why. Annabel was playing with it obsessively, brushing it behind her ear every few seconds. The sparkle seemed to be gone from her eyes and her skin looked more pale and dry than tanned and robust like it usually did. She was fidgeting like crazy: fingering her hair, tugging at her shirt, fiddling with her beloved dog necklace.

Evie took a deep breath, turned her back on the sinks to face Annabel in front of that mirror, and mustered up the strength to ask shyly, “Are you sure?”

Annabel froze. “I’m sorry?”

She looked quickly at Evie and then back at the mirror. She started tugging on her pink cotton midriff-baring halter top, staring into that mirror again. Evie had never seen her do that before, not in her bikini out at the pool, not in the lobby, not anywhere.

“Is something wrong, Annabel?”

Annabel faced Evie. Something about the confidence in how Evie spoke got through to Annabel. Her eyes teared up, and the fact that Evie had been right, that Annabel

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