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At breakfast the next morning, Frankie tells me, “I need different clothes.”

“We just got you different clothes in September.”

“They don’t fit me anymore.”

I look her over, trying to figure out if that can possibly be true. It hasn’t even been two months, but maybe she’s changing without me noticing.

“What doesn’t fit, your pants? Shirts?”

“All of it.”

“You’ve got nothing that fits.”

She nods her agreement.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Caroline telling me you had a real shitty Halloween, would it?”

“No.”

“Because she says—”

“I just need new clothes,” Frankie insists. “I’m too fat for all the clothes you bought me.”

Then she dumps what’s left of her breakfast in the trash, sets the plate in the sink, and walks out.

I watch her go. Her pants fit just fine. The shirt’s maybe a little shorter than it was when we bought it? She’s got hips now. Boobs I try not to look at, because I can’t get used to them on my kid sister.

“Where do you want to go?” I call to her back.

“The thrift store.”

“I can buy you new clothes,” I say, exasperated. “It’s not a problem, only I’m trying to understand—”

“Just drive me to the thrift store, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

I have reading to plow through for Russian history first. Frankie spends the morning on the couch watching cartoons and drawing pictures of horses.

After lunch, we go shopping. She piles my arms high with jeans and sweatshirts. Everything she picks out is huge. Leggings she has to roll at the waistband, Putnam College hoodies that come down below her butt.

“This shit doesn’t fit you,” I say.

“You’re the one who’s always telling me my clothes are too slutty.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I couldn’t wear my costume without a coat over it.”

“That was a costume, not your clothes,” I tell her. “And it wasn’t your fault—all the costumes are like that now. I should’ve looked before we bought it.”

She pushes a sweatshirt into my arms. “This is what I want.”

I’m trying to make eye contact. Trying to connect with her. “If something’s going on with you at school, we should talk about it.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

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