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“Well, that’s a fresh take from you,” I say.
“I’m just saying…we were all a lot happier after my parents got divorced. Even though now I have to live with Devon, and you know how disgusting he is,” she says as we pull into the parking lot.
“Not really,” I say.
“Not really? You don’t think he’s disgusting?”
“I mean, I don’t really know what that’s like,” I tell her, getting out of the car.
“Well, it’s like if your mom married the dad of some…goth reject loser, and then you had to deal with him being loud and repulsive and perving on you and your friends all day. I can’t even walk around my own house without a bra on because he’s always there staring at my tits and my ass. The way he follows Audrey around when she’s there is even worse. And then he even does it to you.”
I feel like I’m going to be sick. She’s lying, right? But why would she? Maybe he does watch her like that—he probably can’t help it, and I shouldn’t be having a fucking anxiety attack over it walking into this department store. I’m sure it’s not anything like how she tells it.
Or…maybe he is like that with Darci and the other friends she brings to the house, hoping to get laid, and I’m just the easiest target.
What I want to tell her is that Idoknow what it’s like to have to be conscious of what you’re wearing and what’s showing and eyes on your body when you walk around your own house. But I can’t do that.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” I say instead.
“Why are you bringing that huge bag inside?” she says. “It looks weird. Why don’t you just leave it in the car?”
“Um, habit,” I tell her. “Something I picked up from living in bad neighborhoods. I never leave anything in the car.”
“Oh…well, that makes sense,” she says, accepting the answer.
I follow her around the department store while a sales associate helps her grab a few gowns in her size and takes them to the dressing room.
“What do you think of this one?” she asks, modeling a backless pink gown with sequins around the low v in the front.
“It’s pretty,” I tell her. “I still like the black one the best.”
“Of course you do,” she says. “It wouldn’t kill you to wear some color yourself.”
“It might,” I joke.
“I like this one,” she says. “I like how it makes my boobs look.”
“You look good in everything,” I say.
“You should try on the black one.”
“Oh…I don’t need to do that. I mean, I’ll never really be able to go.”
“Come on,” she says. “Do it for me…for your bestie. Don’t you want to make me happy?”
I smile. “Fine. But don’t tell anyone. And no pictures.”
I step inside the dressing room, lock the door, and strip down to my underwear. I turn toward the mirror and choke back a sob. I don’t have a full-length mirror at home. I’ve never seen it all like this in front of a mirror before, and definitely not under fluorescent lights.
They look worse than I thought—the scars. If my mom ever sees this, she’ll be so hurt.
I turn away from the mirror and take several deep breaths to steady myself. The black dress in question is strapless with a fitted bodice that laces up in the back. It has a floor-length tulle skirt with a high slit on one side, but not high enough for any of them to show.
I hold the dress against my chest with my hands and step out into the dressing room.
“Oh my gosh, yes!” Darci says, rushing over to tie up the back before I can even ask her. “This is why I can’t get this dress, Ally. It was made for you.”
She finishes the tie and ushers me in front of the main mirror. “You look amazing.”
