Diedre shakes her head. “Only if I lose fifteen pounds.” She slips around Lyndi and goes to the dressing room. Lyndi gapes at me.
“What?” I mouth.
“Did you hear what she said?” she whispers.
Of course I did. I’ve heard the same exact thing from nearly every girl on the volleyball team multiple times this week.
The pizza arrives, and Lyndi pays for it, setting it on the small table in the viewing area as Diedre emerges for a third time.
This one is tighter around the waist but isn’t as dramatic as a mermaid style. Each dress looks like it was made with her as the inspiration. She looks stunning in everything.
“That’s beautiful,” I say.
Diedre turns toward the mirror, scrutinizing the dress with a frown. “The dress is pretty, but not on me.” She smacks her hips like she can flatten them.
How could she think that? Doesn’t she realize how beautiful she is?
I stand and walk toward Diedre. “You look stunning in that dress. And the lavender color is perfect for you.”
Diedre plays with the rhinestones along the bodice of the dress. ”It makes me look like a hippo.”
My whole body tenses. Her self-deprecation is brutal. I thought she would enjoy dressing up, but this isn’t going at all like I expected.
“Pizza anyone?” Lyndi pops the pizza box between us.
I decline, and Diedre does the same. I frown. What teenager turns down pizza? Especially one I assumed might not have enough to eat at home. That could have been an error on my part, but I haven’t seen her eat anything. Nothing actually. Tons of the girls bring snacks from lunch, granola bars, chips, or fruit to practice. But the only thing I’ve ever seen Diedre consume are off-brand protein shakes and possibly—but I’m refusing to let my mind go there—drugs. She could be concerned with her health like I was at that age…right after I’d gained control of my eating disorder.
I study Diedre, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, no doubt from whatever stress she faces at home. I want to help her. But she slammed me down pretty hard the first week on the job. Who’s to say she won’t now?
Lyndi returns the pizza box to the table. “Okay, let’s get you into the next option. And Maddie, I put a dress for you in the other room. You can try it on whenever you want.”
I should wait until Diedre is done, and let her have a moment in the spotlight, but I’m not sure how much longer Diedre will want to be here and I’m curious to see what Lyndi found for me.
I wander into the opposite changing room and gasp at the sight of the deep red, satin gown.
“Did you make this?”
“Of course not.” Lyndi laughs from the other side of the wall. “A customer returned it because of a tear, but we can’t find it. So you can wear it until we do.”
I take a giant step away. “Nope. I already did the splitting dress thing. This time I’ll be at a high school. I could go to jail.”
“I’ve combed over the dress a million times and can’t find it. But if you wear it, we might find it. If not, we will know she was lying. At least try it on.”
“Fine.” There’s no harm inthat.
Besides, I really want to try it on. The bodice is fitted but flares out in a wide skirt at the hips with a slit up one side. It’s got spaghetti straps, the kind I often worry will hold up as well as the flimsy noodle, but it’s gorgeous. A simple, sophisticated gown for a chaperone, but sexy enough to wear on a date afterward. My mind unwillingly flicks to Connor. It’s been doing that a lot lately. Thinking about him used to be forbidden; now it’s become a minor obsession. To wonder what he might think of me in this dress, or what he might say next to make me question everything I thought I knew about him. He’s dangerous. It’s safer to keep myself away from him, thoughts and all.
I step out of the room, and Diedre’s jaw drops. “You’re a babe, Ms. M.”
“I’m a little offended it took you so long to realize that.” I joke, examining the dress she’s wearing. It’s off-white, a beautiful contrast with her dark skin. She’s gorgeous.
“Wow, I think we found your color,” I say.
“No, I don’t think this is it either. White isn’t slimming.” She turns to Lyndi. “Do you have something in black?”
Lyndi gives me a pointed look and slowly, it sinks in.
Diedre is me. The girl I used to be. Before someone helped me love myself again.
