—Present Day—

I've been staring at my reflection in the standing mirror for almost fifteen minutes, but I can't seem to find the courage to step out of my bedroom.

I rarely wear make-up. Even when I go to a party, I only put on a layer of tinted lip-balm and dab some powder foundation on my face. But like last night, Sophia has turned my ugly duckling self into a—dare I say—beautiful swan for tonight's New Year's Eve party.

The make-up Sophia applied to my face enhances my delicate features. The combination of gold shimmer and different shades of light-brown shadow makes my chocolate-brown eyes pop against my milky-white complexion, my tiny nose appears more sculpted, and my cheekbones seem more prominent than ever.

The golden high-low dress I bought earlier today is sweet and flirtatious at the same time. The sweetheart neckline accentuates my décolletage, while the A-line silhouette emphasizes my narrow waist, drawing attention away from my chubby thighs.

For the first time in a long time, I feel . . . pretty.

Still, the knot of anxiety clogging my chest refuses to loosen.

It's easier to wear a sexy dress when it's dark and no one but my silly best friend is around, especially when I was filled with the desire for revenge like last night. But when other people—moreover, those who used to laugh at me—are thrown into the mixture, I can't help but worry about what they might think of me.

The longer I stare at my reflection, the worse my anxiety becomes. A glance at the Ghostface vinyl figure in the bookcase near the window reminds me of what happened at the studio's Halloween Party five years ago.

Before the party, I thought my Ghostface costume was the most awesome Halloween costume in the entire history of humankind—well, I still think so. But I ended up being the clown of the night because of it.

What if people laugh at me again for wearing a skimpy dress like this? What if I don't actually look pretty? What if it's just in my head? After all, I do have a unique sense of fashion—

Kiki nudges my ankle, wraps her long tail around my leg, and gazes up at me, her round golden eyes shining with admiration. It's almost as if she's trying to tell me that I'm the prettiest human in the whole wide universe.

Smiling, I pick her up and pet the top of her head just the way she likes it. As she purrs in contentment, I coo, "Aww, thanks Kiki. You're the best—"

"Come on, cous!" Sophia bangs on my bedroom door. "What are you doing in there? Are you dead? We're going to be late!"

I wasn't lying when I told Ollie that Ryan invited me to his New Year's Eve party. But since we all agreed that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to invoke the green-eyed monster in Ollie, we decided that I would go to TJ's New Year's Eve party as planned while Mac and Sophia—along with her boyfriend, Dylan Little—would attend the party at Ryan's place.

"Just a second!" I inhale a deep breath and blow it out. "Okay, okay. You can do this, Vanessa. You can do this. Just think about Ollie. By the end of tonight, he'll come crawling at your doorstep, asking you to be his girlfriend."

The thought serves as high-octane gasoline to my blood. A burst of evil laughter bubbles up within my chest as different kinds of best-case scenarios fill my mind. Yes. He'll beg me to never leave him again. In fact, he'll be my love sla—wait.

Why do I sound like Sophia?

Pushing the thought aside, I lower Kiki to the floor and give her one last pat on the head before I open my bedroom door.

"Finally!" As Sophia throws her hands in the air, the sharp scent of her spicy perfume mixed with hairspray stabs my nostrils, causing me to sneeze hard.

"Bless you!" Sophia and Mac say in unison.

"Thanks—achoo!"

Mac takes the box of tissue from the coffee table and hands it to me. "Here you go."

"Thanks." I wipe my nose with a tissue, stride to the kitchen, and rummage through my medicine cabinet for a box of Claritin. While I pop a tablet into my mouth and down a glass of water, my eyes are drawn to the two women getting ready to party tonight.

It never ceases to amaze me how make-up and clothes can turn someone into a whole different person. With her flashy mini dress and long caramel-blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail, the usually modest Mac now resembles a fashion catalog model. And although Sophia always dresses impeccably, her flawless blow-dried curls and her skin-tight sequin silver dress—one that highlights her perfect hourglass figure—can get her mistaken for a movie star.

Hmm. Maybe I resemble a movie star too. Come to think of it, people in Sunnyville used to say I—

"Remember the plan, cous." Sophia stops in front of the standing mirror in the corner of the living room and applies another layer of cherry-red lipstick on her full lips. "Pretend you've been on the best date of your life, but don't overdo it like last night. Just act normal."

"Got it."

Fixing her silver waterfall earrings on, she continues, "I'll be staying with Dylan tonight, so don't bother calling me unless you need me to bail you out of jail."

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" I tease. "After all, I wasn't the one who served forty hours of community service for a bar fight."

"Oh, please. You never get arrested for a bar fight only because your stupid allergy prevents you to go to a club."

True, my allergy makes me steer clear of a place where it reeks of body sweat, hairspray, and cheap perfumes. And yes. Sophia is not the only one who's run into trouble because of anger management issues. But it's all in the past. Now, I'm a perfectly calm and responsible adult.

Most of the time, at least.

"Besides, Dylan and I have a much better plan to do tonight than commit a crime." The naughty smirk curling Sophia's lips brings a chortle from me.

"My phone's on at any time," Mac says to me, "and I'll be staying up all night TweetyTiming with Nate after the party, so feel free to call me if you want to."

While Mac goes to LA to sign a book deal for her self-help book, her photojournalist boyfriend, Nathaniel Woods, spends his year-end holiday covering a story in Mogadishu. The ten-hour time difference between here and there forces them to communicate at the strangest hours. The things you do for love, huh?

"Thanks, Mac." I stride across the room, grab the strappy stilettos I bought earlier today, and plop on the couch to put them on. As I bend forward and fumble with the ankle strap of the metallic shoes, my gaze falls on my thighs—which are pancaked against the couch.

"Eww! Her thighs look like chicken drumsticks!" Nicole the office bully's whiny voice suddenly fills my head.

There's a reason why I've never been comfortable wearing a dress that shows my legs. For a five-foot-four woman who only weighs 108 pounds, I have quite a huge pair of thighs, especially compared to my spaghetti arms.

Shoot, shoot, shoot. What should I—

Panic surges in my chest when I catch a glimpse of stomach rolls bulging underneath my tight dress.

"Don't take this the wrong way, V. But you seem to have gained a little weight. We should go hiking together sometime." The words that my date Zander said three years ago echo in my head, sending a fresh bolt of anxiety through me.

My limbs tremble, and the constriction in my chest grows tighter. Cold fingers of dread scrape down my back as the memory I try so hard to erase seeps back into my head. The next thing I know, I find myself standing in the middle of a crowded party—the star-studded premiere of Cupid's Arrows two-and-a-half years ago.

"Eww. She looks like a duck waddling in high heels," the big-boned woman in purple says. "She should totally cut out junk food."

"Yeah," the blorange-haired woman in the yellow jumpsuit agrees. "Where did she buy her dress anyway? The flea market? It's so hideous."

"Uh-huh. It's a crime to wear a dress that short when you have legs as huge as those. Why did Celia even invite her anyway? She doesn't belong—"

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to return to the present, but the insults that my haters posted on TweetyGram after that event flood my mind instead.

"That yellow Voldemort is like an elephant compared to our Queen."

"No, not an elephant. Big Bird. Ya know, from Sesame Street?"

"Yeah. She's so ugly."

"And fat."

"And—"

I shake my head ferociously and try to lock the memories back into a black box to no avail. The sound of my pounding heart pulses against my eardrums, my fingers and toes feel numb, and sweat breaks out on my palms. No, no, no. It's all in the past. Now think about Ollie. Think about your mission. You can do this, Vanessa. You can—oh screw it. I can't do this.

I spring to my feet and rush back to my bedroom.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sophia catches my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. "Where do you think you're going?"

I lick my dry lips. "I'm just gonna go change into something more comfortable."

She pulls her head back, confusion scrunching her face. "What's wrong with this dress? I thought you loved it. Hell, you were the one who chose it!"

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. And I hate to admit it, but you were right. I shouldn't have eaten that much pork dumpling earlier, and now the dress is too tight around the stomach," I lie, "so—"

"Oh, big deal," she dismisses my remarks with a wave of her hand. "Just hold your breath and suck in your stomach. I do it all the time."

"Well, I can't. So I'm just going to change into something a little bit more comfortable. Don't worry, I have the perfect dress stashed in my closet somewhere." I tug my arm away from Sophia's grasp and step forward, but Sophia moves in front of me, blocking my way.

"No, no, no. We have to make Oliver jealous of a freaking dress, remember? And I've seen everything in your closet. You only have those creepy horror movie sweatshirts and a couple of—"

"I can't wear this dress in front of a star-studded crowd, okay?" I blurt and avert my gaze, frustration squeezing my chest. "They'll laugh at me, cous. I mean, look at my thighs. What do they remind you of?" I gesture at my legs and allow a short pause. "A pair of chicken drumsticks! And this?" I pinch the fat on my stomach. "A stack of Miss Mochi's head! And don't even get me started on my—"

The words die in my throat when I realize Mac and Sophia are staring at me with their jaws hanging open. For a while, the meowing of my neighbor Yuna's thirteen cats drifting through the thin walls becomes the only sound traveling through the night air.

Pointing a finger at me, Sophia shifts her gaze to Mac and blinks in disbelief. "Did she just . . ."

With her mouth still open, Mac gives Sophia a nod.

Embarrassment washes over me like a rainstorm. Numbness covers me like a cloud, an immense pain pounds through my skull, and hot tears prickle the backs of my eyes. They're going to laugh at me too, aren't they? I mean, what kind of a twenty-seven-year-old woman worry about—

"Cous." Sophia steps forward toward me, concern in her blue-green eyes. "Where does all this negative self-talk come from? You used to be the most confident girl I'd ever met. Hell, you were the one who taught me to be confident in myself. So what the hell happened to—" She gasps, a mixture of realization and anger sweeping over her face. "This is because of that witch's stupid friends and fans, isn't it?" She curls her hands into fists. "Oh, I'm going to—"

"It doesn't matter, Sophia." I sniff to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes. "I'm just . . . I'm not going to a star-studded party in a skimpy dress, okay?"

"What are you talking about? Your dress isn't skimpy, mine is." She gestures at her dress, which stops just three inches below her butt.

I chuckle. "Yeah, but . . ."

"V." Sophia puts her hands on my shoulders and leans forward to look me in the eye. "You're one of the prettiest women I've ever met in my entire life. And if your thighs look like chicken drumsticks, then what about mine? An elephant's?"

We glance down at her thighs, and for the first time in my life, I realize they're a bit bigger—albeit more toned—than mine. Yet I've never, not even once, thought that her legs resemble an elephant's or a pair of chicken drumsticks. In fact, I've always thought Sophia has the sexiest legs.

"And everyone's legs appear bigger when we sit down, even hers," Sophia adds, pointing her thumb at Mac.

"Yeah. See?" Mac plops on the armrest of the couch, her slim legs flattening wide against the pink fabric, and her usually flat stomach folding into small rolls under her slinky dress. "We all have fat in our body. There's nothing wrong with that. A healthy amount of fat is essential for the human body to function properly. And besides . . ." A shy smile crawls across her face as she shuffles in her seat. "I'd kill for more fat around here"—she gestures at her flat chest—"and here." She pats the sides of her square butt.

A soft laugh tumbles from my lips, and the tight knot in my chest begins to loosen.

"What society deems to be perfect these days are impossible to achieve, and you shouldn't let it get to you." Mac rises to her feet and approaches me, compassion in her honey-brown eyes. "I know it's easier said than done. I've been there myself. But you need to fight it. You need to fight the voices in your head and regain your confidence. Remember, confidence is all you need."

The familiar mantra awakens the fighter in me and unlocks my memory. I told Sophia that mantra when she came to me for advice eight years ago. I made a lengthy speech about loving herself and ignoring her bullies too. At that time, my confidence level was as high as the Eiffel Tower, but now . . . where did it all go?

A confused chuckle escapes me, and I ask my cousin, "Did you teach her that?"

"Mm-hmm." A proud smirk tugs at the corner of Sophia's mouth. "Mac's right, cous. Anyone who says you're ugly and fat needs to get their eyes checked. Don't let your haters get to you, okay? They're just some crazy teenagers who need to get a life."

"I know," I reply, smiling a little.

Sophia and Mac's concern warms my heart, and slowly, my anxiety dissipates. Yeah. You can do this, Vanessa. All you need is a little confidence.

"So, do you still want to get out of The Sister Zone or what?" Sophia asks.

The mention of this silly zone that Ollie has shoved me into turns the fighter in me into a She-Hulk, giving me the strength to conquer my fears. As determination burns through my veins, I blow out a breath. "Come on. It's time to get the party started."

Author's Note:

Thoughts about this chapter? What do you think happened to Vanessa in her past?

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