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She seems to wake from her trance at last with a shrug. “It’s just super rare to have a brown-eyed kid if both parents are blue-eyed.”

I laugh. “Is that why you’re being so weird? I thought you were mad that I brought her.”

Kappy grins. “I love your sister. She’s such a spoiled brat that she makes me look chill by contrast. Yeah, sorry—I was just trying to remember the mutation. I think it’s a de novo point mutation, but I might have the name wrong. I’m actually dying to look it up.”

I elbow her. “Only I would go to a normal school and become friends with the girl who wants to look up genetic mutations on a trip to the mall.”

Eventually we find our way to the dress store, which is full of other girls our age, probably because the dresses are mostly seventy-five dollars or less. Faith demands that she get to try on the dresses too, and I let her do it simply to get a break from her.

“Put the pretzel down first and clean your hands,” I say, whipping a wipe out of my purse—Faith saunters off with three dresses, ignoring me entirely.

Kappy’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“She’s a monster,” I say under my breath.

“It’s that fucking dimple,” says Kappy. “Who could say no to that?”

I’m forced to agree. Faith has the cutest dimple, only on one side. When she flashes it, even I struggle to deny her.

Faith is kept occupied by the destruction of dresses in the changing room, allowing me and Kappy to find dresses of our own. Kappy chooses a skin-tight nude dress for herself—so revealing that I wouldn’t even be allowed to sleep in it. I choose a knee-length navy blue satin with cap sleeves, and barely a hint of cleavage. The Bennett sisters showed more skin in Pride and Prejudice than I’m showing now, but I’m pleased. The navy makes my eyes look electric blue, and the fit of the dress is flattering. Kappy groans when I exit the dressing room. “Only you could make that old-lady dress look totally hot,” she says. “Alex is going to die.”

I take a quick glance to make sure Faith’s little feet are still under a dressing room door twenty feet away.

“I...don’t think I like Alex that way,” I say, haltingly.

I know I don’t like Alex that way. Not when every night I lie in bed thinking about Ford in the library, Ford in the supply closet, Ford saying you’re gonna make me come.

She raises a brow. “Oh my God, tell me you don’t like Ford.”

I freeze. “Why shouldn’t I like Ford?”

She slaps a hand over her face. “Were you not in class the week we read Romeo and Juliet? Don’t you see that it can’t end well?”

I do. But never getting these months with him doesn’t strike me as a better ending either.

When I get home, I model the dress for my mom and Hope. Everyone approves aside from Hope, who’s unbearably sullen the entire time and appears in my room hours later, with tears in her eyes.

“Mom told me I had to apologize,” she says glumly. “Your dress is pretty. I’m just upset that I can’t go.”

I know it’s hypocritical of me to correct her right now—I had a crush on Ford back when I thought he’d tried to burn down my house—but even if Nico were in the church, she couldn’t end up with him. He’s leaving for college while she’s not even in high school yet. “Hope, you’ve got to stop moping over Nico. He’s leaving in a few months, and he’ll probably never be back. And he could be a serial killer for all either of us know.”

“No,” she says. “He’s not. I can tell. I just knew from the minute I saw him he was supposed to be mine.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that kind of logic,” I tease. “You can’t marry him anyway. He’s not a part of the church.”

“I don’t want to marry someone inside the church,” she says.

I gasp and my head jerks toward the door, even though I know my parents are still downstairs. “What are you talking about?” I hiss. “Please never let Mom and Dad hear you say that.”

“None of the married couples we knew in the community seemed happy. My friend here, Shauna? Her parents have so much fun together. The last time I was there, her mom pushed her dad in the pool, and then he pulled her in with him, fully dressed. And they were laughing about it.”

“Just because Mom and Dad don’t act like teenagers doesn’t mean they aren’t happy. Real life isn’t like a movie. Adults don’t go around ridiculously in love forever.”

“When do you ever see Mom smile?” she counters. “Not a fake smile. A real one.”

I frown. “She smiles all the time. She’s probably smiling right now.”

“She smiles for real when she’s with us,” Hope says. “You know when her smile is fake?”