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She opened the door.
The room was dark. Heavy floral-print drapery blocked the windows.
Lauren felt around for a light switch, found it, and flicked it up. Light burst from the overhead fixture.
She hurried toward the closet and put the dress away, then stepped back into the bedroom.
Angie was sitting up in bed, frowning at her in a bleary-eyed, confused way. "Lauren?"
Embarrassment rooted her to the spot. Her cheeks burned. "I--uh--Im sorry. I knocked. I thought--"
Angie gave her a tired smile. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed in red, as if shed been crying. Tiny pink lines crisscrossed the upper ridge of her cheeks. Her long dark hair was a mess. All in all, she didnt look good. "Its fine, kiddo. "
"I should leave. "
"No!" Then, more softly: "Id like it if you stayed. " She lifted her chin to indicate the foot of the huge four-poster bed. "Sit. "
"Im all wet. "
Angie shrugged. "Wet dries. "
Lauren looked down at her bare feet. The skin was almost scarlet colored; the blue veins seemed pronounced. She climbed up onto the bed, stretched her legs out, and leaned against the footboard.
Angie tossed her a huge chenille pillow, then tucked an unbelievably soft blanket around her feet. "Tell me about last night. "
The question released something in Lauren. For the first time all day her chest didnt ache. She wanted to launch into every romantic detail but something stopped her. It was the sadness in Angies eyes. "Youve been crying," Lauren said matter-of-factly.
"Im old. This is how I look in the morning. "
"First of all, its ten-thirty. Practically afternoon. Secondly, I know about crying in your sleep. "
Angie dropped her head back against the headboard and stared up at the white tongue-in-groove planked ceiling. It was a while before she spoke. "Sometimes I have bad days. Not often, but . . . you know . . . sometimes. " She sighed again, then looked at Lauren. "Sometimes your life just doesnt turn out the way you dreamed it would. Youre too young to know about that. It doesnt matter, anyway. "
"You think Im too young to understand disappointment?"
Angie looked at her for a long, quiet moment, then said, "No. I dont. But some things arent helped by talking. So tell me about the dance. Ive been dying for details. "
Lauren wished she knew Angie better. If she did, shed know whether to drop the subject or keep it up. What mattered was saying the right thing to this sad, wonderful woman.
"Please," Angie said.
"The dance was perfect," Lauren finally said. "Everyone said I looked great. "
"You did," Angie said, smiling now. It was the real thing, too, not that fake Im-okay smile of before.
It made Lauren feel good, as if shed given Angie something. "The decorations were cool, too. The theme was Winter Wonderland, and there was fake snow everywhere and mirrors that looked like frozen ponds. Oh, and Brad Gaggiany brought this fifth of rum. It was gone in, like, a minute. "
Angie frowned. "Oh, good. "
Lauren wished she hadnt revealed that. Shed gotten wrapped up in the pseudo-girlfriend moment. Shed forgotten she was speaking to an adult. Truthfully, she didnt have enough experience with it. She never talked to her mom about school events. "I hardly drank at all," she lied quickly.
"Im glad to hear that. Drinking can make a girl do things she shouldnt. "
Lauren heard the gentleness of Angies advice. She couldnt help thinking about her own mother and how she would have launched right now into her own regrets, chief among them being motherhood.
"And guess what?" Lauren couldnt wait for Angie to guess. She said, "I was homecoming queen. "
Angie smiled and clapped her hands. "That is so cool. Start talking, missy. I want to know everything. "
