Memories from our younger years were swirling through my head—snapshots of holidays, trips, contests at school, events. How could she think this?
“That’s not true, Daisy.”
“No?” She glared at me. “You should see things from my side. It looks much different than your distorted reality.”
“I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I’m an equal. I’m not superior in any way.”
“Tell that to the bloggers when they’re posting our pictures side by side, when the tabloids get wind that you’ll be joining a competing show. You’re going to be the hot, new, young blood, and they’re going to forget about me.”
She lifted a magazine from the end table and tossed it next to my coffee for me to see—a cover that had Beyoncé on it. “Do you see Solange in that photo? Do you ever see her?” Before I cou
