Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s hard to focus on school when Monday comes. With Mom being home, the last thing I want to do is spend six hours of my day at school. It sucks. I wish I could just take time off while she’s here, but there’s no way that will fly with Fallbrook or Mr. Saltzman. This week is full of dress rehearsals, and I’ve been warned against missing a single one of them.

Somehow, I manage to get through homeroom, break, and my first set of classes without too much moping. When the lunch bell finally rings, I make my way to the cafeteria. The smell of lasagna fills my lungs, making my mouth water. I grab a tray and get in line.

“Hey, Dot.”

I glance over my shoulder. It’s Mabel, wearing a hopeful but subdued expression. The collar of her uniform peeks out from the neckline of her sweater, and her brown hair is in two braids draped gracefully over her shoulders.

I lift my hand. “Hi.”

“It was nice seeing you at Nickel City. ” The words hold a soft note of caution, like she isn’t sure if I’m willing to talk to her or not.

“Same here.” I hesitate before continuing. It’s hard to be mad at her for distancing herself. After all, if she’d ditched Meredith to hang with me and Rue, Meredith wouldn’t have had either of them. But that doesn’t mean I liked it. “To be honest, Mabel, I’ve missed hanging out with you.”

At that, the corner of her mouth lifts. An invisible, arbitrary barrier between us seems to fall away. “I have too. It seems like forever since we’ve caught up.”

“I know. My mom came back home for a few weeks. She’ll be here to see the play.”

Her eyes widen. “What? No way.” She reaches up and touches my arm. “That’s amazing.”

Before I can answer, Meredith approaches us, cutting in front of the line that’s formed behind us as she stands next to her sister. Her gaze is somehow both accusing and indifferent as it lands on me.

Mabel elbows her. “Dot’s mom came home to see the play.”

“How nice,” says Meredith. “Especially since you’re playing the lead.”

Mabel claps. “Are you going to the Winter Formal on Saturday? I ordered my dress a while ago, but it’s not going to come in time. We should all go dress shopping after school.” Her eyes flit to a spot at my right. “You too, Rue!”

My eyes dart up to find Rue hovering next to me. I didn’t even see her come over here. Her cheeks flush red, deepening when her gaze flicks to Meredith’s before landing on the floor. “Um, I don’t know. I already have a dress,” she says.

“You should come anyway. It will be fun,” Mabel insists. “Just like old times.”

I want to tell her how much I doubt that will be the case, and I also don’t want to miss out on any time with Mom while she’s here. She just got back.

But the last thing I want to do is stir the pot when things are finally opening back up between us. So instead, I grin. “I haven’t bought mine yet. I’m in.”

I set my lunch tray down between Zayne’s and Lenny’s. Before I can take a seat at our table, Lenny hones in on my side of coleslaw. “Are you going to eat that?”

I remove the bowl of coleslaw from my tray and push it across the table toward him. “I’m going dress shopping with the girls after school,” I tell Zayne.

He arches an eyebrow. “Wow. I thought for sure Meredith would try to have you kidnapped if you talked to her again.”

“I know right?” I snicker. “She didn’t seem pleased but she didn’t protest, either.”

“Wait, dress shopping?” Zayne’s eyes round in feign confusion. “Does this mean we’re going to the dance together?”

I suppress a laugh and pretend to look around. “I could always ask Carlton if you’re not down.”

“Oh, yeah?” He shakes his head, biting back a grin. “That’s too bad. Because I already got our tickets and picked out a corsage for you. Guess I’ll have to give it to Lenny.”

His brother swallows his latest bite of coleslaw and says, “As long as it’s not made with daffodils. I’m allergic.”

I laugh. “He’s kidding, Len. At least, he better be.” I lean closer to Zayne. “Because I’m really looking forward to going with you.”

A dimpled grin flashes across his lips before he closes the distance between us with a kiss. I shift my body on the bench to face him, hitching my knee up and over the seat so I can wrap my arms around his neck. He parts my lips, and I melt a little. Kissing Zayne feels like the sun hitting my skin for the first time after a rainy day. I tighten my arms around him. His hands travel from my waist up my back before landing on my knee.

Lenny’s voice cuts through my senses. “Does kissing with food in your mouth make it taste any better?”

Zayne breaks apart from our embrace to glare across the table at him. “You really know how to kill a moment, man.”

I laugh. “Your kisses always taste like coffee and fresh cake.” And then I blush, because the words kind of just slipped out.

But he chuckles. “That would be Mimi. She always gives us leftover restaurant sweets for breakfast.”

“Did you invite her to Thanksgiving yet?” Lenny asks Zayne.

“Believe it or not, I was getting there.”

Lenny pauses and taps his chin. “I believe it.”

Zayne turns back to me. “My mom and Mimi are cooking up a storm for Thanksgiving and they would love for you and your family to come.” He half smiles. “There will be coffee and fresh cake. You won’t even have to kiss me to get a taste of it.”

I play with his hand, still resting on my leg. “And what if I want to?”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’d love for us to come, but let me double check with my parents,” I say. My parents. It’s the first time in so long I’ve been able to ask for their permission as a unit, instead of just Dad’s.

His half-smile transforms into a full-force grin. My heart thuds a little unsteadily in response.

When we’re finished with our lunches, we spend the rest of the break running our lines back and forth, right there at the lunch table. At first it’s embarrassing. I don’t like the way random pairs of eyes from around the cafeteria seem to watch us, but Zayne makes a good point, stating, “If you can’t do it in a noisy cafeteria, it will be even harder once you get onstage and everyone’s paying attention.”

Lenny chimes in occasionally, disrupting my train of thought, but by the time the bell rings, I feel a sense of accomplishment. Zayne is such a good teacher, it will be impossible to mess up my lines during the play. But even more than that, I feel a sense of freedom. It’s crazy how pretending to be someone else can make me feel more myself than ever.

My remaining classes pass in a blur, and dress rehearsal goes smoothly. I ignore Carlton and he ignores me. It’s like a civil, mutual understanding between us after our talk. Mr. Saltzman actually claps after one of my scenes with Meredith, and she—dare I say it—cracks a smile at me.

Zayne walks me to my car after rehearsal, and Mabel and Rue walk along with us. “I’m just going to go home and change first,” I tell the girls, “and then I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the dress place.”

“Sounds good.” Mabel beams.

After she and Rue leave, Zayne tugs me against him by the hand. “What color dress are you going to pick?”

“I have no idea. Probably yellow, since it’s my favorite color.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” He smiles and kisses the end of my nose.

I jerk the lock open in the front door when I get home. I half expect the smell of Mom’s cooking to float through the entryway when I step inside, but I’m met with nothing but silence and an empty hallway. “Mom?” I walk through the tidy kitchen to the living room, where she’s on her hands and knees. My heart thuds at the sight. “Mom, are you alright?”

She straightens when she hears my voice, standing up like the floor just burned her. “Hey, baby,” she says. The words tumble out in a hoarse rush, but she smiles and meets my gaze without effort. “How was school?”

“Fine.” I chew my lip as a sinking, unwanted suspicion strikes me. “What were you doing on the ground? You’re not…having a hard time, are you?”

Her eyes widen. “No! Of course not, sweetie. I was just looking for my earring. Darn backing came loose. It must have fallen off somewhere around here.”

I nod, wanting to believe her. Wanting so badly, but unable to shake my fears away. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

“Dot, honey, I’m fine.” Her smile wears thin.

“Okay.” My brain scrambles for a change of subject. “Guess what? Zayne’s family invited us over for Thanksgiving. I told him I’d ask you first.”

Her face lights up. “Really? That sounds lovely. Tell him we’d love to come.”

I smile faintly. “Okay. And there’s a dance at school on Saturday. Zayne’s taking me, and my friends want to go dress shopping in a few.”

“Dress shopping?” She straightens her spine. “You should let me take you. This is your first school dance, Bardot. This is a big deal.”

“Oh.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “But my friends want to take me. I think they’re finally ready to start talking to me again.”

She frowns and places her arm on my shoulder, and together we walk to the kitchen. “Honey, those friends of yours sound manipulative. I don’t like it.”

“What?” My stomach churns with a sense of disappointment I wasn’t expecting. My mom’s reaction seems off kilter. I thought she would be happy the twins are ready to be friends with me again. “They’re not manipulative. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“ I’ll take you dress shopping. That’s the end of it, okay?”

Her tone and words stun me into silence. Lips parted, I stare at her. Study her. I have no idea what to say. She’s never acted like this with me before. Controlling. Unreasonable. I don’t recognize her at all.

Mom ushers me toward the front door. “I’ll meet you in the car. I just need to grab my purse.”

My brows draw together in confusion. “We’re going right now? I just got home. I’m not ready. I need to change first.” There’s no way I’d be caught dead at the mall still wearing my school uniform.

“If we leave now, we’ll beat traffic.” She all but shoves me out the front door, grabbing my cardigan for me off the coat rack in the entryway. My heart hammers in my chest as the realization sinks in. She’s lying. She is having a hard time.

Still on the doorstep, I take out my phone and text Beau. Part of me wants to hide her behavior from him, if only so he won’t be able to say, I told you so.

But there are more important things than being proved wrong, and this is one of them.

Me

Where are you?

Beau

Just left detention. Texted in class. Please don’t tell Mom or Dad.

Detention? Seriously?

Me

Won’t the school tell them anyway?

Beau

I gave the school your number so you’ll probably be getting a call at some point. What do you need?

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, trying to focus on the matter at hand. I hesitate, staring at the screen before typing the message.

Me

Mom is acting strange. What should I do?

Beau

Just play it cool till I can get ahold of Dad or Aunt Lucille I guess.

Me

Wait, don’t tell Dad. He seems so happy that she’s back. I don’t want to worry him in case it’s nothing.

Beau

K.

The front door opens behind me and Mom comes out with her purse slung across her body. She grins at me and walks past me to get to the car. “Let’s go.”

I follow her and get in the passenger seat. Play it cool. Just play it cool.

“Thanks for taking me.” The words come out almost as light as I intend them. If she detects any traces of unease in my tone, she doesn’t show it.

“Absolutely. Do you know what color dress you want? I’m thinking an ice blue or forest green would look lovely on you.”

I abandon my ideas of yellow and offer her a weak nod. “That sounds perfect.”

We drive toward the mall. I stare out the window, watching the occasional dog and owner walk by, or a kid on a bike as we draw nearer. The day is warm with a cool breeze, and I pull down the sleeves of my mustard cardigan from my elbows to my wrists so I can fiddle with the edge. I send a group text to Mable and Rue.

Me

Not going to make it. Sorry guys. :(

Mabel

What??

Rue

How come?

Me

My mom wants to take me. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. I feel bad, I’m sorry.

Rue

Oh. That’s okay, Dot.

Mabel

Have fun with your mom and send us pics of your dress!!!

I feel an immense sense of relief that they aren’t mad. I release my breath and try to stay positive. There might not be anything wrong with Mom. Maybe she’s just in a funk.

When we reach the mall, Mom finds a parking spot near the entrance of her favorite department store. We make our way toward it through the parking lot. Under different circumstances, I’d find this outing exciting. After all, a shopping day with her would have sounded like a dream come true to me yesterday, or last week. Part of me is happy to be spending time with her at all, but the overwhelming worry surging through me right now is much stronger than any positive emotion.

The automatic doors open for us as we step into the brightly lit, colorful store. Special occasion dresses adorn the walls in a seasonal display, and the smell of expensive perfume tickles my nose. The hum of chatter buzzes in my ears as we gravitate toward the nearest cluster of dresses.

“Look at this one, Bardot,” Mom says, pulling a ruby red gown off the rack. “You would look exquisite in this dress.”

The compliment warms me, but still I’m on edge. “What happened to ice blue or forest green?”

She clicks. “You should at least try it on. I’ll hold onto it while we keep looking.” She folds the dress over her arm and sucks her lip in concentration as she shifts several garments around on the rack. She shows me a strapless black gown made of a sleek, silky material, and a baby pink dress covered in shimmery sequins. We even find a sparkly yellow one that makes my cheeks lift into a smile. When she finally finds dresses in her coveted color palette, we go to the dressing room. For a moment, it feels like old times, when she’d take me shopping for outfits resembling those I’d find and fall in love with online and in fashion magazines.

Mom hangs up the dresses on the hook in our stall and I slip out of my school uniform. We have the kind of relationship that prevents me from being embarrassed to undress in front of her. But apparently not the kind that allows her to be honest with me.

“You can never go wrong with classic red,” she tells me as I pull the thick fabric up my body. “It’s the ultimate eye-catcher.”

I look in the mirror once the zipper is in place. The dress is indeed eye-catching, almost loud in a way that screams, Look at me!

“I don’t know,” I tell her, fiddling with the thin shoulder straps. “It seems like a bit much.”

She shakes her head. “No such thing. Bardot, this dress is the one.”

“But it’s the first one I’ve tried on.” I gesture to the others still hanging on the wall. “Let’s at least see the rest.”

She sighs, her shoulders drooping on her exhale, but she hands me each dress, and I try them on one-by-one. The black, silky one is “too mature” and apparently the forest green dress washes me out. To my surprise, I’m not a huge fan of the way the yellow dress looks once I’m wearing it. But as soon as the ice blue gown is in place, my insides flood with warmth. “Mom,” I whisper, “I love it.” I take out my phone and capture this moment on my camera for the girls, hitting send .

The dress is the perfect shade of blue, understated in a way that highlights my features, hugging all the right places. It’s made in a comfortable, stretchy fabric that also appears to be high quality.

“It’s not as good as the red one,” she states.

I spin away from my reflection to face her. “What are you talking about? It’s perfect!”

But Mom is shaking her head, a troubled expression plain on her face. “No, no, it’s no good, Bardot. I’m not letting you go to that dance in anything less than what you deserve.” She stands and picks up her purse before reaching for the red dress hanging on the wall. “I’ll go pay for this while you change.” She rushes from the dressing room before I’m able to process her words.

“Mom!”

But the door closes behind her and as her footsteps retreat, I’m left staring at my stricken face, glossy eyes, and parted lips in the mirror.

Is she for real?

I half expect her to come rushing back to the dressing room, apology fresh on her lips, ready to buy me the dress I’m currently wearing. The dress I actually like. But instead, the silence surrounding me is a presence heavier than the pit in my stomach.

I study the beautiful, ice blue garment on my body as if I can somehow will it to never come off. When I slip out of it, I don’t even bother taking it with me. I just leave it hanging on the wall in the dressing room.

I search for Mom once I exit the stall, finding no one except a mother pushing a stroller with a whining, small child in it. I walk around until I catch sight of the back of her red coat near the register in the center of the store. She turns when I approach her, bag in hand and wearing a smile void of guilt. “Ready, sweetie?” She squeezes my shoulder and we walk toward the exit together.

I think about the dance this Saturday. I think about the way Mom is acting, how excited I was for her to be here, and how I now just want the next few weeks to hurry up and pass. Because this woman isn’t my mother. At least, not the mother I remember.

“Ready,” I say.

I shove the dress in my closet when I get home. I don’t even want to look at it. Even worse, when I check my phone I see several texts from Mabel and Rue, gushing over the picture I sent them of me wearing the blue dress.

I call Zayne, speaking into the phone as soon as he answers. “My mom is driving me crazy.”

“What do you mean? How is that possible?”

“Something’s up with her,” I say through the thickness in my throat. “I don’t know. She just seems different.”

His voice is gentle. “Hey, calm down. Don’t worry. She’s probably just adjusting to being back, right?”

I nod, though I know he can’t tell. “Yeah. What are you doing right now?”

“I was just reading. Do you need me to come over?”

Someone knocks on my door. “It’s me,” Beau says.

“No, that’s alright. Get back to your book, you nerd.”

Zayne doesn’t mistake the fondness in my voice. He laughs. “Bye.”

I open the door. “Please tell me you got ahold of Aunt Lucille.”

“Nope,” he says. He holds up his phone to show me the massive amounts of messages he’s sent her with no response. “Ready to talk to Dad yet?”

I bite my lip. “No. Let’s just see how things go from here. Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine.”