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When he was gone, Devon's smile fell. Taking her seat in class , she realized that her face actually hurt. As if the muscles in her cheeks and around her eyes weren't strong enough anymore to hold something as heavy as a smile.

What could I have done differently? her mom had asked.
Could her mom have done something differently? Was she capable of being a different sort of person? A sort of person who Devon could talk to about important things, about scary things? Grown-up things, even? A person who Devon could depend upon?

Devon watches all of this drama unfolding in front of her, the huge dramatic production that is her mom. It always ends the same way for Devon, the clash of conflicted emotions-feelings of guilt and annoyance, anger and sadness. Helplessness.

Her mom had deserted Devon when she'd needed her most.

You have to look like a winner to be a winner.