Page 51 of P.S. I Hate You


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“Ooh, girl, you’ve been busy! Give it here. Let’s see ’em.”

I slip my pack off my shoulder to find my notebook. She flips to the first page. A mockup of the window is roughly sketched out with two wire bodice displays sitting at different heights on a long table. “See. If we ditch the mannequins and put up something like this, it could give the store a hip, boutique vibe. I bet the girls would love it.” I turn to the next page. “Moving the purses up front instead of in the back might be a good way to move more product. Like, imagine coming inside to get a closer look at that adorable little bag in the window. Then you need an outfit to go with it, right?”

Jolene’s lips press in a thin line. “You’re full of good ideas, ain’t ya?”

My lungs expand. For the first time in days, I feel a little bit like myself again. But my moment of pride comes to a screeching halt when she continues to flip through.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh, um. Those are just some ideas I had.”

I try to take the book from under her watchful eye, but she won’t allow it. She scans the sketches with clipped brows. “You think you can make these?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish. I went to a sewing clinic my freshman year of high school. We learned the basics of pattern making, different stitches, and made our own piece of clothing at the end. I grew up hand-making outfits for my Barbie dolls, but I’ve never made anything of actual sale quality. “Maybe?”

She looks up through her mascara-caked lashes. “If you can bring me some inventory, I’ll give you a small corner of the store to try out your designs. We’ll split the profits sixty-forty.”

My pulse begins to race. “S-Sixty-forty?”

She cocks her head. “Sixty for you, forty for me.”

My lips part, but it takes a whole second for me to find my voice. “Yeah. I mean … sure … I can do that.” I bounce from foot to foot, stammering like a fool while my inner diva screamsbe cool, bitch!

It’s a tacky store with wall-to-wall polyester, but even Ralph Lauren had to start somewhere—and he only sold ties, for Christ’s sake!

I leave Boots n’ Bangles floating on air. Ten years from now, I’m going to be at Paris fashion week telling reporters how I got my big break at that little store in east Texas that took a chance on me. Maybe I’ll even bring Jolene with me! I hop on my bike and howl into the afternoon sun. This is it. This is everything I’ve wanted for as far back as I can remember.

Myownfashion line.

I can’t wait to tell … Jace.

My happiness deflates like a balloon. The biggest news of my life, and I have no one to share it with. I thought Jace believed in me. He encouraged me to move forward with my ideas and made me feel as if I could actually achieve something. Now I know it was all a lie. He only wanted to humiliate me in the worst way possible.

“Ellie, is that you?” Cindy calls from the kitchen, her voice battling the rush of the faucet.

“Yes.”

“Somethin’ came for you. I put it in your room.”

“Thank you.”

I pull the band off my wrist and sweep my hair into a messy ponytail, then close the door behind me. A literal mound of roses sits on my dresser, their long green stems reaching all the way to the end. I pluck the card from the pile and hold it up. Two words are scrawled in dark blue ink:I’m sorry.

Maybe I’m not as alone as I thought. Troy messed up, but so did I. I may never forgive myself, but I can find it in my heart to forgive him.

When I lift the bouquet to bring it to my nose, the light tinkling of something hitting the floor steals my attention. I drop my gaze, my eyes widening, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I can barely breathe.

There at my feet is my mother’s ring.

My free hand springs to my mouth as the tears plummet from my eyes. I can’t believe he did this. How? Where? With trembling fingers, I pick up the lost piece of jewelry and slide it back where it belongs. The diamond chips sparkle in a way I’ve never seen before. This ring showing up now is a sign. Things are gonna happen for me. Just when I’m feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt, she shows me that she’s beside me.

Slipping my phone from my pocket, I scroll to Troy’s last message.

Me:You made my day. Thank you. <3

I fire it off and wait. The dots bounce as he forms a reply. A second later, it comes in.

Troy:I never want to fight with you again.

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