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Tears prick my eyes.

“Jessie . . .” Rhett gestures to his sister. “Let me introduce you to Cristina, and these are her parents—Willie and Cheryl.”

“He knows our names,” Mom whispers to me.

Of course he does. He knows just about everything about me.

Jessie wraps me in a hug. She smells like jasmine, like the warm comfort of home, like someone who’s always been in my life.

“You are such a doll,” she says when she pulls back and grabs my hands, “and a saint for putting up with this guy.”

I grin so wide at Rhett it feels like my whole body is smiling. “He’s not so bad.”

“The rest of the family can’t wait to meet you. You’re coming to visit after the competition is over, right?”

I shoot Rhett a look. “We haven’t discussed that yet.”

“Tell Mama not to worry,” he says to his sister. “Cristina and I will come for a visit soon enough. Jessie”—Rhett lays a hand on my shoulder—“Cristina’s an artist. She makes little sculptures called Bitty Beings. You’ll love them.”

“Oh?” Jessie’s eyes flare with interest. “What do they look like?”

“I have one with me right now. It’s the first Bitty Being I ever made.”

I fish the sculpture from my pocket and hold it for her to see just as Mina speaks into the microphone.

“And we have another surprise for Cristina Palmer. Please enter!”

Who could it be? I turn to see who’s stepping into the tent. The curtain pulls back and . . . Glen and Faith enter.

Everything slows to the speed of falling molasses.

My bio-parents look exactly the same but older. Glen’s tall and rail thin. Beside him, Faith is heavier than I recall. She pulls a tank of oxygen behind her, and the first thought I have is, She’d better not be smoking with that tank or else she’ll blow herself up.

They see me and smile. Everyone I’m standing with turns as Glen reaches for me.

As he moves to embrace me, my chest squeezes. Blood rushes so loudly in my ears I have no idea what anyone’s saying.

He pulls me into a hug that smells like cigarettes and sweat. I’m limp as he places his mouth to my ear and says, “Great to see you, Kitty Kat.”

It’s the Kitty Kat that does it.

My eyes flit to Rhett as my throat closes. He registers the look on my face, tells me it’s going to be all right.

The lights in the tent are blinding. My brain registers these people—how they never took care of me, how they’re not taking care of themselves now and are looking for a way out.

The man I call Dad steps between me and Glen, trying not to make a scene.

But it’s Rhett who takes over. He squeezes my shoulders and steps between Glen and Willie, lowering his voice so no one can hear.

Faith sidles up to me, rolling her oxygen tank behind her. “Good to see you, Cris. Hope you’re not mad at us about what happened. That was years ago. Let’s put it behind us.”

Her words echo inside my head, like I’m the heroine of a movie re-hearing an ominous phrase spoken by my nemesis. The words bounce, hitting me in the heart, the ribs, the throat.

And it all floods back to me—a little girl in a hospital bed, the strong scent of antiseptic, fluorescent lights that hum and crackle.

I take a breath, but there isn’t any air. It’s not coming.

“Cristina,” Jessie asks. “You okay?”