“If you wouldn’t squirm so much, Lily, this wouldn’t take so long,” Ms. Bush was saying. Willy grimaced and tried to hold still as her makeup brush jabbed into the skin at the corner of his eye. He wanted to open his eyes so he could see what she was doing—but he’d warned to keep them closed, and he didn’t fancy the idea of getting powder in his eyes. Worse than that, his nose was itching and he desperately needed to sneeze—but he didn’t, terrified that a single sneeze would blow off all the powder and he’d have to go through the whole ordeal all over again.

“Okay, ladies, let’s line up!” Coach Anna’s shout ricocheted off the walls of the Emerald Gymnastics Academy gymnasium, multiplying until there seemed to be not one coach, but dozens. Jenny snapped out of thoughts and dreams of her unintentionally cross-dressing boyfriend and darted forward with the other gymnasts. Dozens of pairs of bare feet, her own among them, slapped the blue foam mat as the girls rushed to take their positions in a blur of pumping limbs, bouncing hair, and brightly colored leotards.