“I was thinking about how much we look alike,” said Bird. She held up the photocopy. The astronauts smiled from the paper. “Don’t you think?” The crew studied the photo. “I guess,” said Jessica Diaz. “But she’s pretty.” The words came out casually. But she’s pretty. Bird heard it again. But she’s pretty. That word—“but.” What did that mean? “I mean, it’s not that you’re not pretty, Bird,” said Jessica, quickly. “Just . . . well.” She looked at everyone else in the circle. “Being pretty really isn’t your thing.” She shrugged, as if this concluded the whole conversation. Not her thing? “Being
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