Page 7 of Claimed by the Fallen
The neckline of the top reaches the base of my throat, and the hem barely covers my belly button. I pull up the waist of the leather skirt to hide the inch of skin peeking between the two items, but I stop when I realize doing so shows more leg than Iwant.
I shake my head and wonder why I let my mom get away with this. I’m not a tomboy, but I’m definitely not a girly-girl either. She knows how out of character the tight apparel is for me. I think she still secretly wants me to be a pageant star like she’d been as ateenager.
Janet Garrett won Ms. Texas when she was only seventeen. She enrolled me in one pageant when I was five, but I’d kicked and screamed the entire show. Needless to say, my mom never enrolled me in another contest again. But I’m convinced her pageant-mom dreams hadn’t died thatday.
I enter my closet and look at my meager collection of shoes. I don’t know what to wear with my outfit. My boat shoes and tennis will hardly match the fancyclothes.
A bright pink box on the floor catches my eye. I lean over and open the lid. Inside, I find a pair of black sandals. They have a strap around the heel and connect to the base of the sandal between the big toe and index toe. Faux pearls and diamonds decorate the top of the sandal. The shoes are formal enough for my new outfit, but not as daunting as my graduation wedges. I silently thank my mom for the reprieve before pulling them out of the box and leaving thecloset.
Sandals on, I finally walk to the full-body mirror on the back of my bedroomdoor.
My eyeswiden.
I look…good.
I don’t know how else to describemyself.
The leather skirt isn’t as tight as I feared; you can’t even see my panty line. My gaze moves to the top, and I’m surprised to notice how toned my arms look in the short-sleeve shirt. My kickboxing hobby is payingoff.
Feeling bold, I reach into my lightly stocked makeup bag and retrieve the mascara Annie bought me. I twist the yellow top and remove the brush. I swipe each eye four times before putting the mascara away. I grab a clip and arrange my hair half-up half-down, careful to hide the strand of blonde beneath a layer of ebony hair. Then, I leave mybedroom.
I’m walking down the stairs, and I hear Annie’s voice floating out of the kitchen. I follow thesound.
“Hey,Annie.”
My best friend spins around. “Happy Birthday, Ronnie!” She wraps me in a bear-hug and squeezes tight. She pulls back and eyes my outfit. “You lookgreat!”
“Thanks,” I mumble, tugging on the hem of theskirt.
Behind Annie, I see my dad. He’s looking at me like he wants to demand I go back upstairs and change, but Mom’s nudge renders him silent. It’s times like this when I wish my dad wasn’t so smitten with my mom. Rarely, if ever, does he go against his wife on anything. I can tell he doesn’t like my short skirt or bare midriff, but will he voice his discontent and risk upsetting Mom? Absolutely not. We’re both victims of Mom’scharm.
Dad reaches towards the counter. He grabs his keys. “Ready togo?”
I glance around the room. “What aboutJoey?”
“He’s going to meet us at The Pier,” Annie answers, “so he can drive us to the concertafterwards.”
I wait for my parents to object to Joey driving us an hour towards the city, but they don’t say a word. I eye them, confused. Normally, my parents would never allow me to ride so far with a friend. It’s not that they don’t trust Joey, they are just nervous about teenage drivers. But they remainsilent.
The four of us climb into my dad’s SUV. I buckle as Dad starts theengine.
The drive to The Pier is a little more than ten minutes. My family lives in a nice neighborhood on the south hill, overlooking the lake. We live less than three miles from the popular restaurant. The winding, two lane roads down the hill are the only reason the drive takes as long as itdoes.
As we pull into the parking lot, my eyes instantly land on Joey. He’s leaning against a brand-new ToyotaCorolla.
I scramble out of the SUV before we come to a complete stop. My mom protests, but it’s too late. I’m already closing the door behind me. I rush towards myfriend.
“Is that your car?” I ask, excitedly. Joey’s parents had been hinting he was going to get a big graduation gift. I thought it might be a laptop. Annie was the one who suggested it could be acar.
Joey laughs and pats the side of the blue vehicle affectionately. “Yep, she’s allmine.”
“She?” Annie appears beside me. “You already namedit.”
“You bet. Her name is Sarah. Sarah, meet myfriends.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. Joey and Annie are alsolaughing.
My parents arrive, and my dad congratulates Joey on his new car. The two proceed to walk around the exterior, checking out the vehicle and discussing all of its features. They lose my interest when they start discussing horsepower andtorque.
