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Brooke wriggled excitedly before ducking behind the curtain.

‘Do you need anything else while we’re here?’ she asked.

‘No, I don’t think so. I brought enough clothes with me.’

I hadn’t exactly been thinking straight when I’d stuffed underwear and jeans and T-shirts into my duffel bag. I realized then that I’d probably never see anything I’d left in my bedroom again. That was the first thing I’d felt sad about since I’d left, which made me shallow, and maybe pathetic. It wasn’t like I owned a lot.

I folded my arms across my chest and swallowed hard, trying to keep all the messy emotions inside.

Brooke saved me from my own thoughts by stepping out wearing the pink leggings, a white tank top withsunflowers on it and a black leather jacket slung over her arm.

‘Try this. It’s too small for me,’ she said, thrusting the jacket out.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely.’

I set my dress down on a chair and shrugged into the jacket. I could tell it was real leather – like the seats in the Mustang, it was silky smooth, worn in just the right way.

‘That makes you look so badass,’ Brooke said, so seriously I had to laugh.

‘I’m the least badass person on the planet.’

‘Not anymore you’re not.’

‘Those leggings make you look like eighties Barbie,’ I said, hoping to make her smile.

‘They make my butt look incredible,’ she said, twisting around to check it in the mirror.

‘I can’t argue with that,’ I murmured. I’d thought her butt looked incredible for some time now. But being given permission to look felt different. I pushed my hot, squirmy attraction for her aside. Brooke didn’t need another person leching over her, she got enough of that from the boys – and male teachers – at school.

She laughed brightly. ‘Okay, the leggings are out. You should try this, though.’

She passed something around the curtain. I couldn’t tell what it was at first. It was like someone had taken a dozen bright yellow feather boas and sewn them together.

‘Is that … a skirt?’

‘Yeah. Isn’t it amazing?’

‘Brooke.’

‘Just pull it on over your jeans.’

I was sure even the slightest movement would cause the skirt to explode, but I did it anyway, unable to keep in my giggles. At least the waistband was elastic so I could get the stupid thing on.

Brooke came back out again, now wearing a black denim skirt and an oversized New York Giants T-shirt tied up at her waist.

‘That’s better,’ I said.

‘Yeah, I like it. And your skirt.’

I turned to the mirror and cracked up again. ‘I look like I plucked Big Bird.’

Brooke snorted, then doubled over laughing. ‘All right, all right. You can leave the skirt.’

I wriggled out of it. ‘Thank God. I’m going to have a look at the music.’

‘They don’t haveGraceland– I already checked,’ Brooke said over her shoulder as she went to change back into her regular clothes.