CHAPTER Twenty-Six
The parking lot at the mall is crammed with cars. Samantha parks at the far end. I climb out of the car at the same time Mattie pops out of the back. I feel as though I’m doing a death march as I walk toward JCPenney.
I’d rather be doing anything else than letting Samantha dress me up as her own personal Barbie doll. Well, I suppose hanging out at home with Lydia would be worse. So at least there’s that.
Samantha leads us to Forever 21 and makes a beeline for a display of baby tees. She selects a silver top, while Mattie fingers a purple one. They are talking, laughing. It’s good to see them carefree for a change.
“What do you think of this?” Mattie asks, holding up the shirt.
“I don’t think . . .”
The clothes in this store are most definitely not me. But Sam and Mattie don’t pay any attention. They prance around, picking out a pink tank top and a lacy white button-down to put over it with a very short jean skirt.
Mattie pushes me toward the dressing room.
“Seriously?” I ask.
Samantha gives me a stern look. “Trust me.”
I roll my eyes and carry the garments into the dressing room. Shimmying out of my torn jeans, I glance in the mirror. My legs appear to be thinner—they’re almost bony, with knobby knees poking out. When I pull off my T-shirt, I am struck by my lack of a chest.
An annoying thought buzzes around the back of my brain: You know who has a great body? ANNA. I tell my brain to shove it, but it does no good. A feeling of self-consciousness has settled over me as I think about going to the movie with Rollins and Anna tomorrow night. He only likes her as a friend, I remind myself, pulling on the skirt and top.
When I emerge, tugging at the uncomfortably snug clothing, Mattie claps her hands. “Yes,” she cries. “Just, yes. You have to get this.”
Samantha nods her approval. “My work here is done.”
I turn and study myself in the full-length mirror. The girl looking back at me seems familiar, like a girl I once knew but forgot long ago. Her long, blond hair falls around her face in wisps. Her cheeks are the same pink of the tank top. Her legs look kind of silly in a miniskirt and Converse shoes, but lovely just the same.
Mattie puts her hand on my shoulder. “It’s perfect.”
“You think so?”
Samantha opens her purse and whips out a credit card. “Vee, let me buy it for you.”
“Don’t you mean let your parents buy it?”
She shrugs. “I get a clothing allowance. This won’t even make a dent in it. Besides, I didn’t get you anything for your birthday this year.”
I don’t want to make waves.
“Whatever,” I say. “That’s fine. Let’s just get it and go.” Mattie and Samantha beam, irritating me. “I’ll go change.”
When I return, Samantha is at the register with Mattie and an armload of clothes she seems to have gathered in the thirty seconds I was in the dressing room.
“Could you add these things, too, please?” Samantha sweetly asks the clerk. She takes the clothes out of my hands and puts them on the counter.
The saleslady folds the outfit neatly, slips it into a plastic bag, and hands it over to Samantha, who in turn passes it to me. I hold it at arm’s length.
“Shouldn’t we be getting home soon? Dad will be wondering where we are,” I say. I can’t wait to get out of this place.
Mattie checks the time on her phone. “Oh, you’re right. Let’s go.”
As we pass by the food court, I get the strangest feeling that someone is watching us. My eyes pass over the line of teenagers at Cinnabon, the haggard mother dragging three children behind her, the man eating Chinese and reading a paperback novel, finally coming to rest on the fountain in the center of everything.
There’s someone on the other side of the fountain.
A woman with graying hair pulled into a bun.
She is now standing and grabbing her purse and ducking her head down, probably hoping that I don’t recognize her. But I do.
It’s Diane.
Again.
What is she doing here?
She turns away before I can call her name.
Sitting in the back of the car, I tune Mattie and Samantha out as they excitedly discuss tomorrow’s plans. The outfit that Samantha bought for me is draped over my lap. I dig my fingers into the plastic, trying to make sense out of what just happened.
Why would Diane be following me?
I must have a strained look on my face because my sister glances back at me and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I try to smile. “Oh, nothing. I just realized I have a Psych test on Monday. Totally haven’t studied for it.”
Samantha looks at me in the rearview mirror but doesn’t say anything.
“Well,” Mattie says breezily, “you have all weekend. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah,” I say.
It was just a coincidence, I tell myself. Nothing more.
Deep down, though, I know I’ve seen Diane too many times in the past week for it to be a coincidence.
Saturday night. I stare with dismay into the full-length mirror on the back of my door. Against my better judgment, I let Samantha do my hair and makeup. She’s curled and teased my hair within an inch of its life. It literally does not move when I touch it. Eye shadow is layered from eyeball to eyebrow. She even pressed on fake eyelashes, which are itchy. Every time I fiddle with them, though, Samantha yells at me.
“What do you think?” Samantha asks, standing back to admire her work.
“It’s . . . great,” I say.
“You look gorgeous, Vee,” Mattie says. She’s wearing some skinny jeans and a low-cut tank top.
“I feel like a different person.”
And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
The doorbell rings.
“That must be them,” Mattie says excitedly. She grabs her purse from the top of my desk and checks herself in the mirror one last time before opening the door. Samantha and I follow her downstairs, where my dad is standing with Russ and Rollins.
For a split second, I am nearly paralyzed with guilt. Here I am, about to go to a movie with my friends, while Scotch is lying unconscious in the hospital—because of me. I shake my head to make the thought go away. There’s nothing I can do for him now.
Not tonight.
Rollins’s eyes sweep over my body as I come down the stairs, then back up, resting on my face. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face is unreadable.
“Remember your curfew,” my father warns. “Midnight. Not one second later.”
Mattie gives my dad a kiss on the cheek, and we all head outside. Russ’s and Rollins’s vehicles are both in the driveway. Mattie opens the passenger door of Russ’s silver pickup. Samantha walks to her own car, which is parked in the street.
“We’ve got to pick up Anna on the way,” Rollins says. He climbs into his car and turns the key. I get in and pull the seat belt over my lap, trying not to notice the way my boobs are practically popping out of my shirt.
“You look different,” Rollins says.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask.
“I guess I mean . . . You look the same as everyone else. I can hardly recognize you under all that makeup.”
A bad thing, I think.
“Samantha gave me a makeover,” I say.
“Ah,” Rollins replies, looking over his shoulder as he pulls out of the driveway. He doesn’t say anything else on the way to Anna’s house.