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“I’m joking,” Laura says with a laugh.

I like her laugh.

Olive hands me her pile of clothes. “Try these too.”

“But this works,” I say, touching the blazer.

“You could use more than one nice outfit,” Laura says, shooing me back toward the fitting room. “Go before I change my mind.”

I stagger back with the armload of clothes and a smile. “Okay.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MARGO

I’m tired, more than I’ll admit to anyone. I want to take a nap, but I can’t. Annie is so excited about my date. She won’t stop talking about it. She’s standing in the closet going through my clothes at the moment.

She takes out a white dress. “What about this?” She smiles.

I shake my head. I love that she’s suddenly decided to become my personal stylist, but I don’t trust myself not to spill on it. “What about my blue one?”

She puts the white one back and starts rifling through my clothes again. She finds it and holds it up. It’s a long, flowy dress with cap sleeves and small flowers speckled across the fabric. “It’s cute, but it looks like something you’d wear in summer. Are you sure?”

I nod. “It’s more me.”

“You’re right,” she says. She brings the dress over and sits next to me on my bed. “So, what’s it like?”

I lie down, hugging the dress close. “What do you mean?”

“What’s it like to fall in love?”

I laugh. “What makes you think I’m in love?”

She lies down too and stares at the ceiling. “Your eyes light up whenever he’s around, and you smile whenever you talk about him.”

“Really?”

“You’re smiling right now.”

I touch my smiling lips. I still don’t know if she’s really okay with me dating Daniel or if she’s just pretending. “Oh.”

She goes back to staring at the ceiling. Her eyes water. “I love you, Margo. I’m glad you’re happy.”

I hug her. “I love you too, Annie.” I want her to be happy too, but no matter how much I try to convince myself that she is, I know she isn’t. She’s lonely. She will be lonely.

Annie hops up, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back.” She runs off and my heart aches. I know she’s going to the bathroom to cry where she won’t be seen.

I leave my room and head to my parent’s room where Mama is folding laundry on her bed.

“Mama?” I say.

She’s in the middle of folding a towel, but she sets it down. “Yes, baby?”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

Mama pinches my cheek. “Anything.”

I step closer and find two matching socks to fold. “Could you reconsider letting us go to the concert?” It’s only a week away, and I think Annie’s suffered enough. I want to do something fun that she can look back on.