I was barely paying attention when the elevator came to a stop. I followed Miller down the hall, one with the same plush carpet that had been in Felix’s apartment’s hallway. And when we reached a door that had an uncanny resemblance to the ornate front doors of Empire High, I was 100 percent certain I was in Felix’s building. It made me significantly less scared to enter the Pruitts’ evil lair.
I was expecting it to look completely modern like Felix’s apartment, but the Pruitts had gone in a different direction with their interior decorating. Everything inside looked like it was an antique. There was art in gold frames, fancy vases on display, and even a statue in the middle of the foyer. I just stood there, afraid to move in case I broke something. It reminded me more of the decorating in Matt’s huge mansion. Is that why he came over here to hang out with her? Because it felt like his creepy vampire-esque home? I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to live here. I already knew I’d have nightmares and never be able to sleep. Even if it had been homey and quaint, I’d still have nightmares living down the hall from Isabella.
“The stylist is upstairs,” Miller said. “I’ll give you a tour after your fitting.”
“Okay.” My voice echoed around me. The thought of being alone in the foyer was enough to pull me out of my thoughts. I hurried after him up the stairs. We passed a few rooms and the smell of fresh paint hit my nose. He guided me to the room all the way at the end of the hall. I peered inside. There was a woman with thick glasses and wiry hair standing in the middle of the room with a long rack of clothes. It was an odd sight, but I was more shocked by the room itself.
The room didn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of the house at all. Everything inside was light and airy. There was a white fourposter bed with pristine white sheets and a poofy white comforter. There was a matching nightstand and dresser. A huge window was on the far wall with a view of the city. But the most shocking thing of all was that the whole room was painted bright yellow. Almost the exact shade that my mom’s kitchen had been.
“Sorry about the smell,” Miller said. “The painters just left.”
“It’s yellow,” I said.
“You didn’t choose a color when Mr. Pruitt asked your favorite, so he chose for you.”
“He chose this color?”
Miller nodded. “If you don’t like it, you can just choose a new one and I’ll call the painters back tomorrow.”
“No. No, I like it.” Actually, I loved it. The yellow hue couldn’t be a coincidence. Yellow wasn’t exactly a safe choice for a teenager’s bedroom. Mr. Pruitt knew my mom’s favorite color. He chose it because he wanted me to feel like this was home. Right? The thought made my chest ache. What else did he know about my mom? What else did he know about me?
“We don’t have much time,” the stylist said. “I have another appointment in three hours.”
Three hours? What was she planning on doing with me for three hours?
“Miller gave me a guess on your measurements so you’d have a few things to wear this weekend. But come, come, so I can get you fitted perfectly.” I swore it looked like she pulled a measuring tape out of thin air.
I looked up at Miller. He’d guessed my measurements?
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said without looking at me and closed the door.
I turned back to the stylist. Her eyes were magnified by her glasses and it seemed like they were about to bug out of her head. She hurried over to me and started measuring every inch of my body. She rapid fired questions at me about styles I knew nothing about. I wasn’t even sure how she was talking because there was a handful of pins sticking out of her mouth.
She forced me to try on every single item on the garment rack she’d brought in, even though I insisted I didn’t need anything. And the whole time all I could think about was how did she get this rack of clothes up the stairs? It looked like the metal beam holding all the hangers was about to snap from the weight of all the clothes. She said it was just for stuff to wear this weekend. How often did the Pruitts change in one day?
She tightened a skirt around my waist and put a pin in it. “Perfect, perfect,” she mumbled. “I’ll alter that one but the next one should fit fine.” She handed me a dress to change into.
I stared around at the comforting yellow of the walls as I pulled what felt like the hundredth garment over my head. I stared at my reflection in the floor length mirror. I’d never worn anything so beautiful in my life. My fingers traced the sequins on the shoulder.
“A perfect fit,” the stylist said.
I smiled. For just a second, it felt like this random woman was my fairy godmother. And that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
“Wear that one tonight,” she said. “Mrs. Pruitt loves red.”
The idea that this was my fairy godmother quickly disappeared. Because all I could think about was that Mrs. Pruitt loved red. A shiver ran down my spine. Red was the color of blood. No matter how hard I tried to shake away the image, I couldn’t.
Chapter 8
Friday
I sat down on the edge of the bed and practically sank into the cushiony mattress. My butt had never touched something so soft before. I sighed. Half my closet and a few of the dresser drawers were already filled with the most expensive clothes I had ever touched. I should have been grateful. But all I felt was…empty.
I ran my fingers across the white down comforter. I didn’t need a soft mattress or nice things. All I needed was a home where I was loved. And this would never be it.
I pulled over one of the boxes that had been stuffed in the closet. There were a few school books, some pictures that had been on my walls, and… It felt like something was caught in my throat as I pulled out Matt’s varsity jacket. I’d never even gotten a chance to wear it. I’d never even gotten a chance to go to any of his games.
There was a knock on the door and I shoved the jacket back into the box. “Yes?” I said. I didn’t know who was on the other side of the door. The last thing I needed was an impromptu torture session from Isabella. Wasn’t eating all our meals together enough? And I didn’t even want to think about what she’d do if she saw this jacket. I closed the flap of the box.