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“Your mother called me,” I said as I nibbled at the doughnut.
“This morning?”
“Yes.”
She stopped sipping her coffee and put her doughnut down. “Probably after Mrs. Duval let her know what you were having for breakfast. What does my mother expect you to be, her little spy now?”
“No,” I said.
“What did you tell her about our day together?”
“Nothing bad. I told her we had a very nice time.”
She thought a moment and then shrugged. “Whatever,” she said, and went at her doughnut.
After we ate, I put on the outfit she had chosen. It was a pair of slightly destroyed denim shorts with raw cuffs and a tank top that read “Fresh Air Turns Me On.” I was surprised at how tightly the shorts fit. There was something uncomfortable in the rear, and I reached in and discovered a tag.
“You never wore these?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said. “I probably never noticed.” She grabbed some scissors and cut it off. “They look perfect on you.”
“I think they’re too tight.”
“That’s perfect, silly. You don’t want to look like some old lady.”
The top hung loose, however—too loose, I thought. My bra was half out. “I’m swimming in this.”
“I’ll give you a shell to wear instead of your bra,” she said. “It’ll look great.”
When she put on what she was going to wear, I thought she looked more conservative. Her jeans weren’t tight, and she layered a shirt and a top but wore her bra.
“I’m not sure I look good,” I said, gazing at myself in her full-length mirror.
“Trust me, you’re dynamite. Now let’s go find a reason to ex
plode,” she said. Her phone rang. “We’ll be right down,” she said, and hung up. “They’re pulling in. Let’s go.”
We almost left the house without anyone knowing, but Mrs. Duval spotted us just as we reached the front door. “Where are you going?” she asked, hurrying toward us. “Your parents will definitely be home for dinner,” she added.
“We’re going to Disneyland with friends, Mrs. Duval. Didn’t I mention it this morning?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Didn’t I? I’m sorry. We probably won’t make it back in time for dinner. I’ll call you if we can.”
Before Mrs. Duval could respond, Kiera opened the door and shouted at Ricky and the others as they pulled up to the front of the mansion. She grabbed my hand to pull me out, and I looked back at Mrs. Duval. She gazed at me and shook her head as if I were about to step off the edge of a cliff.
It made me hesitate but only for a moment. The boys were howling as we stepped out.
“Who’s that foxy girl with you, Kiera?” Ricky called.
The laughter and shouting replaced my worry with excitement. It hadn’t been that long ago that I was desperate on a street. Now look at yourself, I thought.
You’re a foxy girl.
23
Happiest Place on Earth
