Now I’m the one trying not to flinch.
Claire follows Hanna toward the dressing room, making her come out after each shirt. They end up selecting three, all from the clearance rack, and a pair of jeans.
I try not to let it bother me.
Money, friends, love.
It’s all luck of the draw for us.
“Ice cream?” Hanna asks.
Claire frowns. “We can split a cone.”
Lenora had given me a twenty-dollar bill earlier. I feel it in my pocket and smile. “My treat.”
Hanna screams. It’s high-pitched and intense. Even after she’s stopped, it bangs around my head.
But Claire just chuckles, rubbing Hanna’s head. “She got into this excited squealing in school. All her friends do it.”
“Right.”
My own screams echo in my ears.
I shake my head.
We go toward the food court, and Claire grips my arm.
She bites her lip. “Remember how you used to talk about Caleb all the time?”
I blush. I didn’t talk about him all the time. But if we were talking about our pasts, which we did often—trading war stories, as it was—then… yeah, I mentioned him.
She gives me a knowing look, and then she’s right back to watching me with an odd expression. It takes a minute to place the emotion on her face, because she so rarely shows worry or concern. But now both are flashing across her features.
We watch Hanna skip ahead of us, then circle and come back.
“I didn’t realize…”
I glance at her. “What?”
“I recognized him.”
Her words aren’t computing. “Huh? From what?”
“I… I don’t know. I’ll keep trying to remember, but it’s weird. I saw a picture of you and him on Instagram, and he just seems so familiar.”
“There’s a picture on Instagram? Of us?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Some girls at Lion’s Head are obsessed with the Emery-Rose lacrosse team. They have a fan page for them. Anyway, they reposted it…”
My mouth drops open. First, that he’d post a picture of us. Second, that he has a fan page. What?
“That’s… weird.”
She shrugs. “He has some pretty rabid fans, if you ask me. Just search his hashtag.”
Hanna slams into me again. I failed to mention my stomach, so maybe it’s my fault that I suddenly can’t breathe. But then Riley is in front of me, gently prying Hanna off.
I inhale, but it’s shaky.
Lenora is slower to come up, glancing between us with concern. “You okay?”
“Yep.” I straighten.
“We’ve got to get going.” Claire takes Hanna’s hand, tugging her backward a few steps. No hug goodbye for us, then. “I’ll talk to you later.”
They make a beeline for the closest exit. They’re pushing out the door, and it occurs to me that I didn’t get to ask her more.
What hashtag? Rabid fans? Where have you seen Caleb before?
We pile in Lenora’s car. I let Riley take the front seat and stare out the window the whole way home. It starts raining halfway there, and I remember to check Instagram. I pull up his profile, biting my lip until it loads.
He posted a photo of us that someone else took a couple weeks ago. His arm is around my shoulder at a football game, and we’re both… we seem happy. That’s probably the most shocking part. I’m grinning, leaning into him, and his eyes are on me.
His eyes are always on me.
I stare at it like it’ll give me the answers I need.
Where has Claire seen you before, Caleb?
32
Friday.
Halloween.
The masquerade ball starts at seven o’clock, which means…
Six hours to go.
Only four before kids start trick-or-treating, but I refuse to think more about that. I’ll be upstairs getting ready with Riley, suppressing flinches every time the doorbell rings.
Lenora picks us up from school after lunch. Most of the girls in the junior and senior classes are leaving early, so it isn’t that unusual. Still, it’s fun to follow Lenora down to the arts department wing. She has a goofy smile, and she admits that she wishes she could visit Robert in his ‘natural habitat’ more.
His whole face lights up when she knocks on his door.
A quick peek into his room, a kiss, and then we’re off.
“I booked you a hair appointment,” Lenora tells me in the car. “It’s at the same time as Riley’s.”
My lips part. “What? You didn’t have to—”
“I want tonight to be great.” She pats my thigh. “So just let me pamper you, damn it.”
Riley and I both laugh.
It’s a whirlwind from there. I quickly sift through pictures for the hairstylist and point to something a little more extravagant than I would’ve been able to do myself. When in Rome, right?
The stylist is a master, making a braided crown intertwined with ropes of gold and pearls. Curled ringlets frame my face.
I’m same, yet different.
Once we’re back at the house, Riley and I lay out our makeup in my bathroom. Our dresses are hanging on the door. I wipe off the day’s makeup and think about a plan. It’s setting in that this is real. This is happening.
The doorbell rings, and luckily I’m still removing my makeup, because I almost jump out of my skin.
Riley throws me a curious glance, then crosses the hall into my bedroom. She returns and says, “The trick-or-treaters are starting to show up.”
I shudder.
“Do you not like it? Halloween?”
“Just some bad experiences,” I say. “I don’t really remember them all.”
After a while, just the association with fear is enough to make me want to hide.
I hold up my hand as she opens her mouth. “No pity, please.”
“Got it. So, music?” She pulls out her phone and opens the music app. “Some fun pop, coming right up!”
Justin Bieber starts playing, and I laugh. “How’d you know I had a crush on him when I was twelve?”
She winks. “Didn’t every girl?”
We do our makeup in silence, occasionally belting out lyrics. Robert or Lenora must be sitting on the porch, since the doorbell has stopped ringing. In fact, the house is almost too quiet for a while.
Riley and I take our time on our makeup. I decide to take Caleb’s words to heart, and I don’t pack on the eyeliner like I’m inclined to do. Instead, I fish out my palette of eyeshadows and create a muted, gray-blue smoky eye. It pairs nicely with my eye color, which can be described as warm chocolate on a good day and shit on a bad one.
I coat my skin with a light layer of foundation, contour the hell out of my cheeks, and add shimmer to my cheekbones and eyelids.
Riley is done at nearly the same time as me. She gets close to my face and swipes lightly just under my left eye. “Perfect. Want to see my mask?” She puts the finishing touches on her lipstick, which is so dark red it’s almost purple.
“Of course!” I’m shocked she didn’t show me earlier.
We go into my room, and she rifles through her bag, finally pulling out a box. She had bought herself the black dress. She lifts the mask to her face, and I grin. It’s perfect.
It’s delicate black lace, patterned like flowers. One side is bigger, sweeping up and back. The other side angles down, ending in dainty lace curls.