“Four percent isn’t a chance. It’s a sentence.” Her eyes welled dup again, and then she shook her head like a dog drying itself, Like she could shake off her tears. “I need you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t let anyone tell them they aren’t beautiful. You, too, Ollie.”

“Four percent isn’t a chance. It’s a sentence.” Her eyes welled dup again, and then she shook her head like a dog drying itself, Like she could shake off her tears. “I need you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t let anyone tell them they aren’t beautiful. You, too, Ollie.”

— Sophie Gonzales