‘I don’t think so.’ I set the dress back on the rail, not wanting to spend money on clothes when we were trying to save it for gas and food and motel rooms.
‘Try it on,’ she said eagerly.
The dress was black, knee-length, with tiny white and yellow flowers and a square neckline. It was pretty – unassuming, but pretty.
Brooke reached around me and pulled out the tag. ‘It’s, like, ten bucks, Mouse. Try it on.’
‘Fine,’ I sighed.
But I was secretly pleased. I’d never had this before – a girl friend to go shopping for clothes with.
A friend who was a girl.
Not a girlfriend.
I’d never had one of those, either. Although I might have had a few fantasies during our Chemistry lessons about Brooke being my girlfriend, of walking through the school holding hands, jumping apart when we spotted any of our Catholic high-school teachers. Fantasies of hiding in supply closets to kiss between classes, of getting a prime spot to watch her play soccer for the school team.
I followed Brooke to the changing rooms that were an alcove with a scrap of fabric stapled over it to act as a curtain. I hated changing rooms, but no one was around except Brooke, and she’d already seen me in my pajamas.
‘What do you think?’ I asked, pulling back the curtain dramatically to show off the black dress.
There wasn’t a mirror inside the changing room, so I had to step out to see myself. Brooke held a finger in the air and twirled it. I obligingly turned a quick circle, the skirt of the dress flaring out around my thighs.
‘It’s super cute.’ She was leaning against the wall, chewing on the arm of her sunglasses. ‘Get it.’
‘Maybe.’
The girl in the mirror looked like me … almost. I recognized myself, even if putting a dress on felt like stepping into someone else’s life.
Brooke smiled, like she could read my thoughts. ‘You look really nice, Mouse.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, staring at myself in the mirror instead of at her, for once.
I couldn’t think of a time I’d ever feltreally nice, and I was super bad at taking compliments, so I didn’t want to look Brooke in the eye.
‘Come on, get changed. My turn.’
I hadn’t noticed the monster pile of clothes she’d collected. ‘You have to be kidding me.’
‘I won’t buy all of it,’ she protested. ‘Probably.’
I shook my head and ducked into the changing room to put my jeans and T-shirt back on.
‘Do you have space in the car for all that?’ I asked through the curtain.
That made her laugh. ‘I told you, I’m not getting it all. But I didn’t exactly leave with my entire wardrobe. I need a few more essentials.’
How the hell bright pink Lycra leggings counted as essentials, I had no idea.
I swished the curtain back open again.
‘Plus,’ she said in a hushed whisper, ‘we havethree and a half thousand dollars.’
I snorted with laughter. ‘Fine. I’m going to look at jeans.’
‘You’re not going to stay for my fashion show?’
‘Okay. I can do that.’ It sounded much better than browsing jeans.