Evie's sprawled across your carpet, painting her nails with a color she lifted from the store earlier. The room smells like acetone and cherry lip gloss.

"Hold still," she says, grabbing your hand. She paints one streak across your nail, misses half of it, then laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"Beautiful," she says, blowing on it like she's some pro. "Boys would pay for this kind of manicure."

You snort. "Boys would pay for anything if you look at them twice."

She grins, eyes flicking up to you for half a second, then back down. "Yeah. That's the point."

Music's thumping out of her phone speaker, way too loud for your mom not to complain. But neither of you turn it down.

She lies back, polish still open, and says, "We're sneaking out tonight. Don't even argue. You're coming."