Ma throws stuff into the Ninja: strawberries, pineapple, dates, ice cubes . Like a smoothie will make everything better. Mimi scowls

“Ma. Talk to her.” Mimi throws herself into a chair, crosses her arms. “Please. It’s — it’s not normal.”

Ma is busy at the freezer, so Mimi can’t see her face. “It’s only the first day, Mimi. I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“How can it? Everyone thinks she’s — I mean, it’s just — mortifying. She shows up with that awful trench coat and school supplies from the 1950s. I bought her stuff, why can’t she just use it and look regular, at least?”

Ma throws stuff into the Ninja: strawberries, pineapple, dates, ice cubes . Like a smoothie will make everything better. Mimi scowls.

“And she keeps talking about being my sister, and she tells the teachers the most embarrassing things. Like she started complaining in math class that she learned everything already in ninth grade, and shouldn’t Mrs. Weber be ‘differentiating based on her unique scholastic abilities?’ ” Mimi’s voice rose. “Everyone looks at her like she’s nuts. And then they look at me like I’m crazy, as well!”

“Oh, Mimi, you’ll be fine,” Ma says. The Ninja spins, transforming the fruit into a liquidy, peach-colored swirl. Ma takes out a glass and fills it to the brim, placing it in front of Mimi with a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about your class. They’re going to get to know Kayla, just like we do, and they’ll stop staring so much. It’s going to be okay.”

Mimi’s stomach tightens into a hard, chafing knot.

“I’m going to Ella’s,” she says roughly.

The smoothie is left, melting, behind her.