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“I’m trying to French braid it.”
“French braid? What is she, twelve?”
Tess grabbed a flat iron and bumped her sister out of the way as she plugged it in. Shrugging, Dia plopped down on the bed as Tess undid the sloppy braid. Once the flat iron was warm, she straightened Haven’s hair, smoothing the waves that had never before been so tame. Tess pulled the top half back, securing it with a clip, before unplugging the flat iron and going back to her side of the room.
Dia showed Haven to the bathroom to put on her dress. Haven slipped into it and glanced in the mirror, not recognizing the girl staring back. Her hair was bone straight and shiny under the glow of the light. The dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her newfound curves.
Curves. She pinched her hips with awe, wondering where they had come from and how she hadn’t noticed them before.
She headed to the bedroom, pausing near the doorway. Tess gazed in her mirror again, applying another coat of lipstick, while Dia slipped on a pair of black combat boots.
“Don’t you have to get dressed?” Haven asked Dia as she dropped a pair of gold flats in front of her.
“I am dressed.”
Haven put on the shoes as she surveyed Dia’s clothes. She had on a black skirt and a vibrant blue tank top with rainbow-striped tights. “You are?”
“She is,” Tess said. “To Dia, that’s dressed up.”
* * *
The hairs on the back of Haven’s neck stood on end the moment she stepped into the grocery store alone, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Self-consciously, she put her head down and walked swiftly to the soda aisle. Bending down to grab a twelve-pack of Coke, her skin prickled as a presence approached.
“What do you call cheese that doesn’t belong to you?”
“I’m not sure, Nicholas.” She picked up the soda and turned to face him, stunned to see him wearing a black suit. It was the first time she had seen him without his flip-flops and baseball cap.
“Nacho cheese.” He grinned. “Get it, nacho, not yo’? Not yo’ cheese, since it isn’t yours?”
The moment it clicked, she shook her head. “That’s cheesy.”
He laughed at her attempt at humor. “Funny. My kind of girl.”
She blushed. “Thank you. I see you’re dressed up.”
“Of course I am. It’s prom.”
“You’re going to the dance? You don’t go to school here, do you?”
“Neither do you.”
“But I have someone to go with.”
He sighed dramatically. “Yeah, well, so do I. I may not be a pretty boy like Carmine, but I can still pull my fair share of ladies. Speaking of your boyfriend . . .”
“Don’t start.”
He held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I was just going to say I’m surprised he’s letting you in public by yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t he? I can go to a store alone.”
“Can you?” The seriousness to his voice sent her nerves flaring. Could she? Considering this was her first time doing it, she had a hard time answering yes.
“Sure,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. He couldn’t know the truth. Carmine would have warned her.
“That’s nice,” he said. “You know, you have a fascinating accent.”
She was taken aback by the shift in conversation. “I have an accent? I think you do.”
