“I think it’s bold,” Dani says.
“Here we go,” Molly says in her eye-rolling voice.
“What’s bold?” I ask.
“Your look. It doesn’t follow the rules, but… it’s like you’re just one step over. That’s how new trends happen. I like it. Especially the scarf as a blindfold. That’s brilliant.”
I lean toward Faith. “The professional likes my style.”
“Here, stand up and step back a bit,” Dani says. “And stand up straighter.”
I do. I’m ready for anything.
“Have you thought about hanging your scarf down front instead of behind?” Dani asks. She touches my shoulders and then adjusts my scarf and drapes the tails, about a foot long, down the left side of my chest.
“You’ve got some curves and this highlights your contour. There. Your sex appeal just went up a whole number.”
I stand perfectly still. No one says anything. I don’t want to be the first to speak.
“Damn,” Sarah says. “Let’s go shopping.”
For days I’ve thought more about seeing Jason than this shopping trip, yet here it is almost five o’clock and I want to stay with the group. Everyone except Faith was on my side about my jeans and black running shoes being okay, but now I’m in a different blue top, with a V-neck that stops just north of my white sports bra, and over that I’m wearing a light-blue plaid shirt unbuttoned… which I’m still not too sure about but everyone, Faith included, said was perfect and exactly my style as the girl who usually wears an open army vest every day. I also have a new scarf that’s longer than my usual: a solid navy blue that Faith said was too dark but Dani said was striking and that settled it. Molly is helping me out by holding my old clothes for later. I can’t really explain it but in my new outfit I even feel a bit taller.
I try to keep track of what everyone buys but it’s hard to remember just being told once and having no reminders of what stuck and what didn’t in all the chaos. I do know Sarah bought a few pairs of yoga pants under the premise that they’re as comfortable as sweatpants but, as Dani said, easier on the eyes.
“Who do you normally shop with?” Molly asks while we wait for Dani, who’s doing God-knows-what.
It takes me a moment to answer. “My dad.”
The silence tells me the conversation isn’t likely to continue, but then she asks, “How was he in the fashion advice department?”
I laugh. “He just described things. Colors, shapes, whatever. He’d tell me what other people were wearing, though I know he only told me what he liked, or at least didn’t hate. I also get help from salespeople, looking for my size and then talking about what to get.”
My phone beeps—my reminder.
“I have to go,” I say. “Where is everyone?”
“Dani’s holding court by the makeup counter. I bet those people never saw so many guys stay by the counter this long before.”
“Sarah and Faith?”
“Basking in her light,” Molly says. Then she shouts, “Hey! I’m walking Parker over. Back in a few minutes.”
The chorus of goodbyes and good lucks in a higher pitch than I’ve ever heard out of Sarah especially disturbs me as we walk away.
“I know you don’t need my help,” Molly says. “I just need a break.”
“Actually,” I admit, “I’ve gotten so turned around I don’t know where we are. Walk me to the fountain and point me in the right direction. I can take it from there.”
We don’t talk as we navigate out of the department store—Macy’s, I think, or maybe Nordstrom—an obstacle course of clothing racks designed to stop you from walking in a straight line. I’d set my reminder to give me plenty of time, figuring I’d be solo, so once we’re out in the main mall we relax and stroll. Okay, maybe not relax. My stomach is tightening up and I’m feeling shaky, but we’re walking slowly at least.
To distract myself I say, “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be Dani.”
“I can,” Molly says in a voice that’s, well, kind of dark.
“You can’t be jealous,” I say lightly. “That’s like being jealous of Einstein or Mozart…” I immediately regret this. In my head it sounded like comforting perspective.
“Jealous?” Molly says. “I feel sorry for her. All those guys talking to us today—”
“That was only because of her.”
“But they weren’t talking to her, either. Sometimes they were talking to the four of us—Blind Girl, Sweatpants, Tubby, and… I dunno… Fashion Insect—but they were really just trying to get to Cheekbones. If they could get her without having to talk, they would.”
“Some of them, sure. I guess it could get annoying—”
“No. Imagine winning a billion-dollar lottery and suddenly everyone’s talking to you, being nice, seeking you out, constantly, all the time, never a break. One day nobody, next day everybody, just because of your bank account. It’s not annoying, it’s… it’s like drowning.”