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“Get in the car, or I'll burn it.” My boyfriend held a lighter under the only photos I had left of my dead parents. “Connor, please. You know what those mean to me.” “Then stop being selfish. Jenna's getting an award.” I went. At the ceremony, Jenna handed me my album. “Don't worry, Sophie. I took good care of it.” It was soaked in soda. My parents' faces were gone. “I just packed drinks for you,” she whimpered. Connor stepped in front of her. “She didn't do it on purpose.” “They're just pictures,” his friend said. Just pictures. Of two people I'd never see again. Minutes later, a reporter asked Connor if I belonged in their group photo. “No. She's just here to carry our bags.” Then the roof cracked. Everyone screamed. Connor and his friends grabbed Jenna and ran. Nobody looked for me. I made it outside with the ruined album against my chest. My flight to Denver was boarding in two hours. At the airport, I blocked them all. An hour later, Connor finally noticed I was gone. At our graduation photo shoot, my boyfriend, Connor Hayes, and the two guys I had grown up with came over carrying a pile of little mystery boxes. All three were photography majors. They smiled as if they were hiding something wonderful. "Pick one. There's a surprise inside." Assuming it was a graduation gift, I chose one at random and unfolded the slip inside. [Photos by the dining hall lady.] The next second, they pushed Ms. Parker from the dining hall in front of me. Connor clapped and laughed. "Sophie, Ms. Parker will be taking your graduation photos." Ryan Foster pressed an outdated camera into her hands. "Don't worry. Ms. Parker can carry a fully loaded tray without smedicineing a thing. Your photos are in good hands." The three of them grabbed their brand-new equipment, surrounded Jenna Moore, and walked away with her. I couldn’t stop myself from calling after them. "Why didn't Jenna have to pick a box?" "You're a little too ordinary for our standards," C
