Alile stepped around the garbage of the Somali streets without noticing the filth, her thoughts mostly on the meager amount of money in her hands. She had earned it in the only way a girl her age could, by satisfying the desires of lonely men. Yet, despite the crudeness of her work, Alile was happy. She had finished counting her money. There was just enough to buy breakfast and maybe something special for Teshi’s birthday. He was turning six, and the little carved dog he loved so dearly was worn out, chipped, and falling apart. Alile was going to buy him a new toy. She could already see the look of joy on his face, that smile she adored. It made everything worth it.
    

“Hey, girl,” someone said.
    

Alile looked up. “Sorry, I’m not available right now. Find me tonight if you’re still looking.”
    

He stepped out of the shadows of the alley. He had to be Alile’s age, if not a few years older. Starvation had made him lank, but that was true of many. His clothes were covered in mud, tattered and torn.
    

“I don’t want company,” he said. “What do you have in your hand?”
    

Alile instinctively balled her fists and held them to her chest. As she took a step back, the boy took a step forward. He lunged at her, grabbing her wrist and short hair, and jerked her hand open. Alile screamed and kicked. She had to keep that money. Teshi needed food. The boy slammed Alile’s head against a piece of tin roof that had been laid against a wall. Alile crumbled to the ground, and the boy took her money, running as fast as he could away from her. The sky was beginning to lighten, the sun painting the dark with hues of red, orange, and yellow. Alile sat in the dirt and muck. Her forehead was bleeding, her legs were pulled up to her chest, and her eyes were overflowing with tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing smiley little Teshi hungry, even though he would pat her hand and tell her he was okay. But she had no money. Teshi would have to go without, and it was his birthday.
    

Across the ocean in sunny California, it was also the birthday of LeeAnne, who sat in a comfortable booth, ignored the comfortable A/C, and hated her comfortable life.
    

“It’s my birthday for crying out loud!” she exclaimed. “It should be going my way, and everything is just awful!”
    

LeeAnne shoved her Caesar salad away, crossing her arms and flipping her curly hair with a huff. Her best friend, Callie, scrunched her eyebrows in worry.
    

“What’s going wrong?” she asked.
     

“My diet isn’t working, and this salad dressing isn’t nonfat,” LeeAnne replied. “I can taste the fatness in it. I want to go home, Daddy.”
    

LeeAnne’s dad quickly waved the waitress over and asked for the check. Anything that made his precious princess unhappy had to be fixed.
    

“Why are you on this diet again?” Callie tentatively asked.
    

“Well, look at me! I’m not skinny enough. I was a size two last year, and now I’m a size four. I have to get back down to a two.”
    

“If you say so.”
    

Callie sat back, poking at her grilled chicken with a knife. LeeAnne’s mom put an arm around her, quietly reassuring her that she would be able to lose the weight and that even if she didn’t, she was still absolutely gorgeous. LeeAnne shoved her mom away. She would not be “absolutely gorgeous” until she was a size two again. The waitress brought the check, and LeeAnne’s dad paid. The sooner they left, the sooner his princess would be happy.
    

The company left Olive Garden and piled into the Cadillac that LeeAnne’s dad drove. Silence permeated the vehicle on the way to Callie’s house. “Katy Perry is too cheerful,” declared LeeAnne, so the music was turned off. Upon arrival at Callie’s home, LeeAnne gave her friend a quick hug and kiss on the cheek like all proper, posh young ladies must before Callie got out of the car. Then they drove off. LeeAnne’s immediate reaction once they arrived home was to march upstairs to her room, enter the attached bathroom, and step on the scale. When the three digit number appeared, LeeAnne growled in frustration. She still hadn’t lost enough weight! It was getting on her last nerves, and she was running out of diets to try. With a deep, overly dramatic sigh, she sat on the edge of her bathtub, thinking. There was one thing she hadn’t tried yet, something one of her big sister’s modelling friends used to do.
    

LeeAnne stood up and turned her radio on, then shut the bathroom door. The last thing she wanted was for her parents to think she was sick. Hesitantly, LeeAnne leaned over the toilet and stuck her finger down her throat. It was a less than pleasant experience, but once she had fixed her hair, flushed the toilet, and rinsed the bile out of her mouth, she actually felt better. A bit faint, yes, but better. Skinnier. With a quick sideways glance in the mirror, LeeAnne smiled.
    

“This just might work,” she decided.