She rolls her eyes. “Love you, big sister.”
“I love you, too.”
“Oh, and please don’t tell Mom and Dad that I was looking at a van.” Her green eyes are imploring.
I pretend I’m zipping my lips shut before saying, “You can count on me.”
I watch as they walk away, Sophie giggling and Mason already pulling her way too close to his side. I go to the cash register and put the two lipsticks on the counter.
“Oh, very pretty,” a woman with a tag that readsTiffanysays.
“I thought so.”
She scans the one for my mom, then looks at the one I picked out for me before her big blue eyes look up at me. “The mauve isgorgeous, but this one—this one looks like it’s made for you. Red is your color.”
I smile softly. “It’s a great red.”
After I’ve paid and Tiffany’s put them in a small orange bag, I leave the store, get into my own Volkswagen, and head back to Dusty Hollow, feeling the permission of the list in my back pocket.
16
SADIE
I’m wearingmy favorite dress. The blue one with small white daisies. It twirls when I spin in front of my mirror, and when I do there’s a vision of a girl I once knew behind my eyelids. I feel a smile melt against my skin.
I can still be her.
When I open my eyes, my cheeks are slightly pink.
I grab the red lipstick and open the cap, staring at the bold color.
I shouldn’t.
I’m going to church.
I can practically already hear Patty and a few of the other older women whispering in the pews, looks of horror on their faces as Sadie Summers plays piano with red lipstick on in front of the entire congregation and Jesus.
I’m not supposed to stand out. I’m supposed to be barely there—just enough to be needed.
I twist the tube of lipstick, a thrill cartwheeling in my stomach. Then I lean closer to the mirror, bringing the lipstick up to my mouth. It glides on effortlessly, as if Tiffany was right—it was made for me.
When I rub my lips together and see the fullness of the red,my eyes widen.
My cheeks have become pinker, my eyes brighter. There’s something about me that feels different and yet the same.
I look at the lipstick and then back at my reflection. I touch the woman’s face in the mirror gently, my fingers lingering against the smooth surface.
Her eyes are clear, as if I can see right through them, and I plummet into their pain.
The pain of giving up who I loved most when I didn’t know any better. The pain of dropping my classes and moving back home. The pain of walking into the accounting office every day to make sure my dad’s business survived after the accident. The pain of Milo still chasing his dreams while mine were fading to dust.
Moments pass before I take my hand away from the mirror and tuck my hair behind my ear.
A true red smile stretches across my face.
I’m still here.
It’s not too late.
