Cara slid her best friend a skeptical look.
“Come on,” Tori pressed. “We’ll say you’re staying with me, and we’ll crash in Jared’s basement. That way nobody has to drive.”
In other words, they could get wasted. The prospect of chugging warm, watered-down beer to the point of sloppy-drunken oblivion had never appealed to Cara. What was the point? To feel buzzed for a few hours until the hangover set in? “I’ll pass. It would be a security nightmare, anyway.”
“Talk to me.” Tori delivered a light nudge. “You sounded like death when you called, and now you’re saying no to a party. What’s wrong?”
Cara blew out a breath and hoped she could hold the tears inside. She didn’t even know if Tori would understand.
“It’s the A-licker, right?” Tori pointed at Cara’s sweatpants and ratty garden clogs. “This has ‘broken heart’ written all over it.”
“We had a fight.”
“Everyone fights. It’s a good thing. It means you’ve got fire.”
Cara shook her head. “Not that kind of fight. I don’t think we can come back from this. It’s too—” Her throat swelled with grief until it choked her next words. All she could manage was a whisper. “It’s over.”
She expected Tori to say “good riddance” in her own colorful way, but that’s not what happened. Instead, Tori took one hand off the wheel to clasp Cara’s palm. She gave it a tight squeeze and promised, “You’ll feel better after a new pair of jeans and a triple fudge meltdown. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll watch Magic Mike.”
Cara laughed as tears welled in her eyes. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“How about some trashy gossip?” Tori said. “You’ll feel like a million bucks compared to the train wrecks at Midtown High.”
As they made their way onto the interstate, Tori filled in Cara on what she’d missed since last winter: Brandi Greene got caught drinking Boone’s Farm at a school dance and was thus banned from prom. Murphy Finn was banging four freshmen, but none of the girls knew about one another because they attended different schools. Principal Ferguson busted the band teacher smoking weed in the back of a school bus. The stories kept coming, but Cara didn’t feel like five bucks, let alone a million. If anything, the gossip added to the heaviness inside her, though she couldn’t figure out why.
They pulled into the mall parking lot, and Troy explained how the security detail would operate. He’d stay by Cara’s side at all times, except in the dressing rooms, and the plain-clothes soldiers would scout each store before she was allowed to enter. If anyone recognized her, the group would have to leave right away because the unit wasn’t large enough to handle a mob. Fortunately, Cara had kept her arrival date vague, so nobody knew she was here.
“Let’s start at Neiman’s,” Tori said, her high heels clicking against the asphalt. “So you can help me pick a prom dress.”
Cara pressed a hand to her heart. “I forgot all about prom.” The image of frilly dresses brought a smile to her lips. Maybe she’d try one on, just for fun. An eager bounce lightened her steps as she tugged open the door to her old stomping grounds, but the vibrating wall of noise that greeted her on the other side had her twitching to run back to the car.
Holy sensation overload.
An indistinct pop tune blared through the ceiling speakers, competing with the throbbing bass of club music that wafted from the entrance to Hot Topic. With spring break in full swing, every teen in the county was here, each one laughing and shouting over the din while their fingers flew across their cell phone screens. The cloying scent of perfume leaked from the doors of Hollister in clouds so thick it forced Cara to cover her nose, and when she breathed through her mouth, the residue seeped inside to coat her tongue. How could anyone stand to go in there? Or any other store, for that matter? The shops were teeming with people rudely nudging one another aside as if their lives depended on scoring this season’s trendiest belt.
The scene inside Neiman Marcus was marginally calmer, but Cara had to keep reminding herself to unclench her jaw. So much for a leisurely day of shopping. Leaning toward her brother, she said, “Can you have someone bring me a bunch of jeans while Tori’s trying on prom dresses? We’ll finish quicker if we multitask.”
Troy didn’t need further convincing. “What size?”
“Somewhere between a four and a six, I guess.”
He used his phone to tap a text message. “I told him to grab a few shirts, too.”
“Good thinking.”
She scurried to keep pace with Tori, whose mahogany eyes locked on to the formal wear department with the single-minded determination of a girl with a raging case of Prom Fever.
“Puta madre,” Tori breathed, gravitating as if entranced toward a backless ivory gown with a side slit cut clear to the hip. With its satiny fabric and barely there straps, it looked more like lingerie than a dress. Tori reached out with reverent fingers and held the gown in front of her. “What do you think?”
Honestly? Cara thought her friend would be very cold in that dress. “Um, the color looks great with your skin.” And given how easily it’d slip off at the end of the night, Eric would love it.
“I’m gonna try it on.”
Cara followed to the dressing rooms, where a young soldier balanced a stack of folded jeans on one arm. He made an apologetic face. “I did the best I could, but it’s redonk over there. I didn’t know if you wanted cropped, boot-cut, straight-leg, skinny, flared, low-rise, high-waist, or jegging.” He leaned in, shell-shocked. “And that’s just the cut. Then there’s dark wash, medium vintage—”
“That’s okay,” Cara interrupted. “I’m sure one of these will work.” She took the pile of denim into the fitting room and emerged ten minutes later with three pair of jeans that fit and one pair she could actually afford. Suddenly the L’eihr uniform didn’t seem so bad.
“Ta-da!” Tori sang, opening her dressing room door. She hitched up her gown and strode to the three-way mirror, then began checking out her butt from different angles. “Nice, huh?”
She really did look nice. Overly exposed, yes, but tame compared to what some girls would be wearing. Cara gave a teasing wolf whistle and checked the price tag. Her mouth dropped open. “Did you see this, Tor?”
Satisfied with her reflection, Tori turned from the mirror and strutted back to her dressing room. “Yep.”
“You’re gonna drop this much on a gown you’ll wear once?”
“I’ll put it on my card,” Tori said, as if she weren’t spending real money that way. “I need shoes and a bag, too. What do you think about strappy nude heels?”
By the time they reached the shoe department, Cara thought strappy nude heels were as unnecessary and overpriced as the plastic-wrapped gown draped over Tori’s shoulder. Cara lifted a butt-fugly leopard-print platform pump and gasped at the price sticker affixed to the sole. Maybe if humans didn’t spend so much time and money on useless crap, they wouldn’t need the L’eihrs to save the world for them.
“Cute,” Tori said, nodding at the monstrosity in Cara’s hand. “You should try ’em on.”
“Yeah. Or not.”
Tori wrinkled her brow and studied Cara over a display of sandals. “Retail therapy isn’t working, is it?” She set down a glittery clutch and nodded toward the exit. “Let’s go. Time for that triple chocolate meltdown.”
“Dig in.” From the other side of the table, Tori pointed her spoon at the plate between them. “If you let me finish this by myself, I’ll never fit into that kick-ass dress I just bought.”
The mere sight of hot fudge pooling out from the center of a gooey chocolate cake was enough to turn Cara’s stomach, but she took one for the team and shoveled in a bite. She swallowed as quickly as possible before washing out the taste with unsweetened iced tea.
“What the hell?” Tori asked. “It looked like you were chewing razor blades.”
“Sweets make me kind of sick now.”
Tori’s black brows shot up. “You’re not preggers, are you?”
“No,” Cara said with a humorless laugh. “Zero chance of that, trust me.”
“Huh.” Tori chewed the inside of her cheek and stared at their dessert. “The mall was a bust, and chocolate isn’t working. This leaves us with only one option…”
“Oh, no. Not Magic Mike.”
“Then give me an alternative. Tell me what’s going to make you smile.”
That was a good question, but Cara didn’t know the answer. She thought back to the last experiences that had brought her joy—snuggling with Vero, mastering the intermediate track, glimpsing the colony for the first time, placing her hand in Aelyx’s strong grasp.
Cara sighed and poked at the cake. “Nothing on Earth.”
They fell silent for a while, fidgeting with bendy straws and silverware, until Tori said what they were both thinking. “You’re different now.”
“Yeah, I am,” Cara said. And she had a feeling things would never be the same as before the exchange. She peeked up from beneath her lashes. “But I still love you.”
Tori’s face broke into a bittersweet grin. She reached across the table and took Cara’s hand, her touch somehow both familiar and foreign. “Right back at’cha. That’ll never change.”