I exhale. “Fine.”
There are no mirrors in this dressing room. I manage to close it and let my hair fall over my shoulders. I take a moment to look down at the dress, the color of thunderclouds.
Here goes nothing.
I step out, and they immediately jump up. Riley bounces, a wide smile splitting her face.
“That good?” I ask.
Lenora steers me to the three-sided mirror, and I’ll admit: even my heart skips.
It’s… perfect.
The top is fitted, with mini glass beads sewn in spirals around the waist. It flares out gracefully and stops at my knees. The neckline is high enough that I feel secure, but the fact that it’s backless is sexy. I spin, giggling, because the dress floats around me.
“Beautiful,” Lenora tells me. “Do you like it?”
I stop and stare at myself in the mirror. I try to imagine what sort of mask Caleb picked to make Riley suggest this dress. But honestly, I don’t know. I couldn’t guess.
I feel beautiful. Maybe with my hair up in a braid…
The tag dangles under my armpit. I glance at the price, and my eyes nearly pop out. Anger floods through me. “No.”
“You… don’t?”
I glare at Riley. “Why would you pick such an expensive dress? I can’t—”
Lenora comes over and leans down, reading the price.
Tears prick my eyes. I like this one. I feel pretty for once in my freaking life. And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have fallen in love with a few yards of fabric, but…
“It’s okay,” Lenora says. “I’ve got it.”
“What?” I whisper. I can barely see.
“I’m buying it.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “So wipe those tears, Margo girl. You’re getting the dress.”
I stare at myself in the mirror.
It’s a lot.
My own mother would’ve swatted me away from this whole store. Wouldn’t she? We wouldn’t have gone to the mall in the first place. She was a personal chef. Money was always tight. I got new-to-me jeans and shirts at thrift stores. Shoes on clearance. Toys that had been donated.
We lived in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods, yet we struggled to fill our fridge.
And Lenora tells me she’ll buy a five hundred dollar dress that I’ll wear once. She does it without batting an eye.
Riley pulls me back into the changing room. I step out of dress, still in a state of shock. I blink and blink and can’t think of anything to say.
“This is how they operate,” she whispers. “She’s trying. Money is nothing to them.”
I twitch. “Where does their money even come from? How much could they possibly make on her salary and Robert’s?”
Riley grins. “Clearly, you don’t know your foster parents.”
I raise my eyebrow, but Riley just shoves my clothes at me and slips out the door.
By the time I’m in my clothes, she’s in another changing room. Lenora has my dress bagged and over her arm.
Lenora grins at me, tapping my nose. “I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “I really, really appreciate it.”
Riley’s door cracks open, and she slips out.
We both ooh at the same time.
The fabric is slinky, hugging her body like a glove. She’s as thin as the popular girls, even if she hides it most of the time. The black dress has a deep, plunging neckline and widens below her hips.
She does a little shimmy. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” Lenora winks. “And spicy.”
Riley tosses her hair back. “I think I’ll knock Eli’s socks off.”
He officially asked her while I was home recovering, apparently. And she said yes, amongst a sea of jealous onlookers. It was quite the spectacle. Singing, a marching band, the lacrosse team surrounding Riley and lifting her.
Still, she tries on two more dresses before she declares herself satisfied with the first. We walk out of the store with our arms linked—the three of us, me at the center. There’s a warm feeling in my chest, and it’s easy to ignore the pain in my abdomen.
We get pretzels and browse around a few stores. I hesitate picking out jewelry. There are some things of my mom’s I could get. I’m sure they’re in her room in our old house. Going in to get them would probably give me a panic attack, but…
It would be nice to wear her earrings or necklace. Feel closer to her.
Riley holds up a stunning necklace dripping in crystals. “I’m getting this,” she announces. She tries it on, holding her hair up and turning every which way.
“I love it,” I tell her.
She grins at me.
As we’re leaving the store, someone shouts my name.
A blur shoots past Riley and knocks into me.
Someone latches on to me, their arms around my waist. All the breath is expelled from my lungs. It takes me a few seconds to comprehend that the small person isn’t a stranger—it’s Hanna.
I laugh and wrap my arms around her, rocking back and forth. Screw the searing pain in my stomach. It’s Hanna. My expectation of seeing her again was lower than low.
Claire jogs up, panting. “Jesus, Hanna,” she admonishes. To me, she says, “She saw you and took off.”
Hanna takes a step back, and I brush back her hair. She’s only a few years younger than us, but I babied her more than Claire ever did. Probably because I hadn’t had a kid sister for more than a few months at a time.
“How are you?” I remember my manners suddenly and turn to Lenora. “This is my foster mom. Lenora, this is Claire and Hanna.”
Lenora’s nostrils flare—or maybe it’s my imagination. She smiles at Hanna and Claire, reaching out to shake their hands.
Claire stares at her outstretched hand and doesn’t move.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck in the form of a blush. I’ve been telling Lenora and Robert about my foster siblings, how much I missed them, and here Claire is, shoving that all out the window.
Hanna steps forward and takes Lenora’s hand, shaking it up and down enthusiastically. It makes up for the iciness of her sister.
“Can we steal Margo?” Claire asks. She glances at Riley, then away. “We were hoping to see her this weekend anyway.”
After Lenora bought me a dress, and Riley and I are spending time together? I automatically feel guilty for even thinking that I could break away and go with Claire and Hanna.
I start to turn her down. “Claire—”
“It’s okay.” Lenora shares a look with Riley.
Riley shrugs.
“You go spend some time with them. I’m going to put our stuff in the car, and we’ll meet you in the food court? In an hour?”
Guilt.
It’s all I feel.
I start to say no again, but Hanna grabs my hand.
“Come see this shirt Claire’s gonna buy me!” she says, hopping from one foot to the other. At my nod, she drags me down the hallway.
We end up in a kids’ clothing store, following Hanna around. She excitedly tears clothes off the racks to try on. I glance at Claire, who now smiles openly.
“We get an allowance,” she tells me. “And we’ve been saving up for a shopping spree.”
And my foster mom bought a five hundred dollar dress without flinching.