“Michael made me get rid of the scale.”

Kristin’s head pulls back in horror. “Get rid of the scale?”

“Is this why you’re all blotchy?” I snap. “Because I may or may not have lost weight?”

Although I’m pretty sure I have. Lost weight, I mean. I’m not lying about Michael forbidding me to pay attention to the scale, but my clothes are looser and everything feels less wobbly. I’m not a size two or anything, and I still feel like a jumbo loaf of Wonder Bread next to my sister, but …

“Seriously, why are you crying?” I ask, feeling atypically impatient with her.

Kristin presses her lips together and looks around before nodding toward an out-of-the-way corner.

I follow, crossing my arms and looking at her.

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again and blurts out, “Devon wants to go to law school.”

I stare at her. “And?”

Her lips do an ugly floundering thing. Sissy dearest is really not at her best today. “On the East Coast,” she emphasizes.

I reach up to tighten my ponytail. “Which I know means more long distance for you guys, which sucks, but it’s not exactly a surprise.”

Kristin’s eyes focus on me. “What do you mean it’s not a surprise? He was supposed to come back here and work for his dad’s company in Dallas. That’s always been the plan.”

Your plan, I want to say.

I gentle my voice. “Well, yeah, I know that’s been a likely option, but law school’s always been a dream. Good for him for chasing it, you know?”

For a split second, Kristin looks like I’ve slapped her. “It hasn’t always been his dream.”

Oh my God, I’m so over this conversation already. “Okay, not always, but since, like, sixth grade, at least.”

“He just came up with this stupid law school idea just now!” Her voice is shrill.

Realization slides over me like ice water.

Devon’s never told Kristin he wanted to go to law school.

I’m both shocked and … not shocked.

Anyone who knows Kristin well knows she’s a terror when her boat is rocked.

And learning that the guy she planned to marry was even considering doing anything other than putting a two-carat diamond on her finger and settling down in Texas would definitely rock this princess’s boat.

And yet they’ve been together for years. I can’t believe, in all that time, they’ve never talked about what they wanted for the future.

Because Devon has told me. Bunches of times.

From the horrified look on Kristin’s face, I think she knows it.

“So what’s next?” I ask. “Is he going to apply?”

She gives a harsh laugh. “Yeah, he already did that. Claims he did it on a whim. Like, how can you take the LSAT and apply to Harvard Law on a whim?”

“He got in?”

She looks at me closely. “Why the hell are you so happy about this? I’m trying to tell you that my boyfriend wants to move to Boston, and you’re acting like he won the lotto.”

He did! I want to cry. This is his jackpot.

She sighs. “He was on the waiting list and just got the call this morning that a spot opened up. He has until the end of next week to decide.”

“That’s awesome—for him,” I correct quickly, seeing her death glare.

“I knew I shouldn’t have talked to you about it,” she snaps. “You’re all holier-than-thou and think there’s nothing as important as school, so of course you’d take his side.”

I cup my elbows, a little stung by her sharpness. “Hey, that’s not fair. But I’m friends with Devon, too, and he’s wanted this for a long time. I’m happy for him. And you don’t have to break up—”

“Who said anything about breaking up?” Her voice is quick and maybe just a little shrill.

“That’s what I mean,” I soothe. “It’s just a few more years of doing the long-distance thing, right? And then you’ll be dating a lawyer.”

Kristin would love that shit.

She takes a deep breath. “Right. Right. Okay, well … I’m going to go call Tina. She’ll have some useful advice about how to change his mind.”

“Wait. Change his mind? Did you hear anything I said?”

Kristin tilts her head. “When did Devon tell you? That he wanted to go to law school, I mean.”

Her voice is sweet. Too sweet.

“Umm … I’m not sure. It’s just … well, like you said, I’m a nerd. He probably thought I’d be more interested about it than you would be.”

“Huh. K. Oh, and Chlo?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to see what upper-triceps exercises Michael can walk you through. You’re all flabby up here.” She gestures to my upper arms that are exposed by my tank.

She gives me a fake smile and prances out the door, and I take a deep breath, ordering myself not to let her get to me.

I can see right through her. She’s feeling threatened by the fact that her boyfriend told the wrong sister about his life dreams, and she’s feeling insecure.

Putting me down is the easiest way to get her confidence back up. God knows I’m an easy target.

I reach up and feel the area of my arm she’d been talking about. It is kind of flabby. What was I thinking, getting all bold and wearing a tank top today instead of my usual baggy T-shirts?