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Chuckling at Sophia's confession, I said, “You'll see it tomorrow night.” I was excited about my costume. The meaning of it would be lost on everyone but Bastian.
The look on Bastian’s face made my stomach flip flop. “And I'm really looking forward to that,” he said.
***
The night of the dance, I had the pleasant surprise of Deena and Carol appearing in my door eager and smiling.
“Can we help you get ready?”
Despite my aunt's behavior toward me, the girls had always been kind, if a bit distant, but since my uncle vowed that things would be different, the girls were also making an effort. Knowing this, it was still unexpected, but welcomed, when they did. “I'd really like that.”
“Are you a mermaid?” Carol asked, while she fingered the light fabric of my costume from its spot hanging on my closet door.
“A siren.”
“Like the ones who lure men to their deaths out at sea?” Deena asked.
“Yeah.”
The girls didn't get it, but Bastian would. My costume was a turquoise halter dress fitted in the mermaid fashion and even flared a bit at the bottom. I found a pair of jeweled sandals from the local Goodwill to wear with it. I wanted to curl my hair and tuck a few silk flowers into it, but I was struggling with the curling iron.
“Let me do that.” Deena took it from me and with the practiced moves of someone far more acquainted than me with the activity, expertly got to work on my hair.
“Turn to your side so I can work on your makeup.” I noticed the frown when Carol saw my unimpressive collection of makeup. I didn't generally wear it, so I didn't see the need to dip into my savings to buy it. “You've got no foundation or liner. Lark, you don't even have lipstick. I'll be right back.”
With the seriousness of her expression when she left the room, you'd think we were discussing food shortages in third world countries.
“Do you have any preference for where these flowers go?”
My eyes found Deena's in the mirror. “No, whatever you think works.”
“Cool.” She looked almost nervous when she added, “This is fun. We should do this more often.”
The feeling of belonging turned my voice a bit hoarse. “I'd really like that.”
My uncle had offered to drive me to the dance, but he was running late. The girls were now doing homework after having spent an hour helping me get ready. It was nice bonding with them, but it also had me reflecting on the kind of relationship my mom and aunt had shared. Had they been close? Did they paint each other's nails and gossip about boys, and if so, why hadn't my aunt noticed the change in my mom? Why hadn't she tried to understand the cause?
Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, I was just taking a bite when my aunt walked in. The expression on her face was so similar to the one Jennifer Ross had given Bastian on the night of his birthday dinner that I had absolutely no problem understanding what was going on in her head.
“That's a bit revealing for a school function, don't you think?”
Self-consciously, I glanced down at myself. “No.”
“Once you're labeled a slut, it sticks.”
The apple piece I had been chewing on went down the wrong pipe, and as I coughed to get it out, she stayed rooted to the spot just across the kitchen from me. My throat felt raw by the time I was able to breathe again.
“Are you sleeping with that boy? You must realize that boys don't take girls like you seriously.”
Rage and hurt warred inside me. “And what kind of girl am I?”
She gestured with her hand, “Pretty on the outside and shallow on the inside. You're the girl they play with, not the one they marry; my girls, on the other hand, are prizes. You keep that boy away from them because once he's had his fill of you, he'll set his sights on them. He's nowhere near good enough for them.”
And it was comments like this that drew into question her sanity. Was she serious? The idea that Bastian was only using me, or that he would move from me to the girls, who were so much younger than us, was so ridiculous I couldn't bring myself to be angry about that comment. However, I did object to her opinion of me. “I'm not shallow.”
“That's what your mom said too, and look how that turned out.”
I slapped her hard across the face. Really, I didn’t, but the image in my head was so life-like, it was oddly satisfying, watching her head snap back from the blow. I didn't know if I was more angry at the idea that she could sound so blasé about her sister, or because she compared me to my train-wreck of a mother.
