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“You do have a way of causing drama, Sutton. But you have to tell me the truth. You really don’t know why my brother showed up in your room?”
“I really don’t. I promise.”
A long beat went by. Madeline inspected Emma carefully, as though trying to read her mind. “Okay,” she said finally. “I believe you.”
Emma let out a breath. “Good, because I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I missed you, too.”
They hugged fiercely. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, but suddenly she got the distinct feeling someone was staring at her. She opened her eyes and looked into the dark parking garage next to the pretzel kiosk. She thought she saw someone crouch behind a car. But when she squinted harder, she didn’t see anyone.
Madeline linked her arms through Emma’s as they rejoined the girls. Charlotte grinned, looking relieved, too.
“I have exciting news, ladies,” Madeline announced.
“We’re throwing a party on Friday night.”
“We are?” the Twitter Twins asked in unison, whipping out their iPhones, excited to break the news to their rabid foll owers. “Where?”
“You’ll know when you know,” Madeline said cryptically.
“I’m only telling Sutton, Char, and Laurel.” She narrowed her eyes on Gabby and Lili. “It’s super private so we don’t get caught, and you guys aren’t exactly good at keeping secrets.”
Gabby’s plump lips popped into their trademark pout.
“Fine,” Lili said with an overdramatic sigh.
Laurel tossed the remnants of her pretzel into a garbage bin wrapped in a bright green poster that read, CAN IT FOR A BETTER PLANET! She adjusted the buckle closure on the strap of her bag. “What can we do to help?
And what’s the dress code? Sundresses?”
Madeline took a long swig of lemon-lime seltzer. “It’ll start at ten, but we’ll have to get there early to set up. Leave the catering and drinks to me and Char. You handle the guest list, Laurel, and Sutton, you put together a playlist.
And as for dress code, maybe shorts, heels, and a dressy top? Definitely something new. C’mon. Let’s get shopping.” She grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her up. Emma smiled, appreciating Madeline’s olive branch. The girls walked to a boutique called Castor and Poll ux. As soon as they passed through the front doors, the smell of new clothes and sugary perfume swirled in their nostrils. Glassy-eyed mannequins dressed in pleated chiffon skirts and herringbone jackets posed with their hands on their narrow hips. Stiletto heels much higher than anything Emma had ever worn lined the perimeter of the store.
“These would look awesome on you, Sutton,” Charlotte said, holding up a silver wedge.
Emma took it from her and discreetly checked the price. Four hundred seventy-five dollars? She tried not to swallow her tongue as she set it back down. Even though she’d been here for a month, she still wasn’t used to the way Sutton’s friends shopped with abandon. The cost of each individual item in Sutton’s closet was close to what Emma normally spent on an entire year’s wardrobe. And that was a good year—when she was fourteen, she didn’t have money for any new clothes. Her foster mother, Gwen, who lived in a tiny town thirty miles from Vegas, insisted on sewing all of her foster kids’ back-to-school outfits on a 1960s Singer sewing machine—she considered herself something of a fashion designer. Worse, Gwen was into gothic romance, which meant Emma started eighth grade wearing long, flowing velvet skirts, cream blouses that resembled corsets, and hand-me-down Birkenstocks.
Needless to say, Emma wasn’t the most popular girl at Cactus Needles Middle School. After that, she’d always made sure to have a job, so she could at least buy the basics.
Lili gravitated to a table stacked with paper-thin tees and tanks, while Gabby made a beeline for a rack of polo shirts. Charlotte steered Emma to a row of minidresses, pointing one out. “That lavender one would look amazing with your eyes,” she offered.
The girls convened in the curtained-off open-air dressing room surrounded by four three-way mirrors. When they tried on matching short skirts and flowing tops, it was as though a dozen Xerox copies were reflected back at them.
“That’s gorgeous, Mads,” Emma offered, eyeing the lime green cotton skirt Madeline had pulled on. It showed off her long, lithe, ball et-dancer legs.
“You should totally get it,” Charlotte said.
“I can’t,” Madeline mumbled.
“Why not?” A wrinkle formed on Charlotte’s brow. “Do you not have money? I’ll buy it for you.” Madeline kicked it off. “It looks lame on me.”
“It does not!” Charlotte scooped the skirt off the ground. “I’m totally buying this.”
“Char, don’t bother,” Madeline snapped, an edge to her voice. “My dad will never let me wear it. He’ll say it’s too short.”
Charlotte let the skirt slip between her fingers, her mouth flattening into a straight line.
The dressing room fell silent. The girls turned away, busying themselves with their piles of clothing and looking anywhere but at Mads. The mention of Mr. Vega had that effect.
Emma pulled a lavender dress over her head, carefully sliding the spaghetti straps over her shoulders. The silk was soft against her skin, and the waist nipped perfectly, making Emma’s rail-thin body look a little curvier than usual.
“Ooh, Sutton!” Charlotte whistled.
“hello, gorgeous,” Laurel trilled, seemingly forgetting her sibling jealousy.
