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It’s perfect.
My eyes well up with tears. I do look pretty. Somehow, the dress fits us both like a glove. I think about what it would be like if I could go to prom—if I could buy this dress and spend the day getting my hair and makeup done with my friends, if I could dance with my boyfriend.
But none of that will ever happen.
I shake my head. “I feel stupid. I’m going to take it off.”
“Nuh-uh,” Darci says, closing her hand around my arm. “Not yet.”
“What? Why not?”
“You need to do something for me first,” Darci says. “Twirl.”
“What?”
“Twirl first, and then I’ll let you take it off.”
I feign annoyance and twirl once in front of the mirror for her.
“Satisfied?” I ask.
She reaches out for me and runs her hands down my bare arms.
“You reallyarebeautiful, Ally. Does anyone ever tell you that? Does anyone ever touch you? You deserve that.”
“No,” I reply. It comes out as almost a whisper.
“Ally, I have a secret,” she says. “I think you do, too. If you tell me yours, then maybe I could tell you mine, and it would have to be okay.”
“I don’t…I don’t have any secrets, Darci,” I lie. “Can you untie this, please?”
She sighs, visibly frustrated. She places her hands on my shoulders, turns me around so my back faces her, and then unties the dress as I asked.
“Thanks,” I say and rush back into the changing room.
“I’m getting the pink one,” she announces when I come back out, her demeanor changed.
“Good,” I tell her. “You’ll look great.”
“Let’s go.”
It’s tense as we walk to the checkout and even more so once we get back into the car. She starts to drive without saying a word or turning the music back on.
“Can we listen to something?” I ask. “I never get to listen to music at home—”
“Devon’s mom lives in that shitty neighborhood over there,” she says, pointing toward a familiar exit.
“Oh…does she?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Darci, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, wiping tears from under her eyes. I’ve never seen her cry before, and it’s uncomfortable now. I’m not much of a hugger; I don’t have much experience comforting other people, so I’m not quite sure what to do.
“I love you, Darci,” I tell her. “You’re my best friend.”
“Am I?” she asks.
