"You should try something on," she tells me as she walks around the two-story store. Soft golden light illuminates the interior, but bright stage lights are hung on the ceiling for show. This entire shop is like one big runway-one that wasn't built for the tattered tennis shoes on my feet.
"No thanks."
"Oh, come on. Shopping is no fun if we don't both try stuff on. Don't you try things on when you go shopping with your girlfriends?"
I guess maybe I would if I ever actually had the money to go shopping . . . or if I ever had close girlfriends before Rowan and Dee . . .
"You do have girlfriends, right?" Danica asks with her brow knitted.
"Of course I have girlfriends," I scoff. "I just don't really like shopping."
Danica eyes me skeptically before turning back to a rack against the wall. "We just need to find something you'd like. Liiike-oh!" she squeals, tugging a dress from the rack. "Like this! This is gorgeous. What do you think?" She holds the garment up so I can see it: a very short, very slinky pale pink dress. "Hailey, you would look so pretty in this."
"How much is it?" I ask on impulse, but Danica simply shakes her head.
"It doesn't matter. Do you think it's pretty?"
The truth is, I do. It's made of some soft, flowy material that I want to reach out and feel between my fingers, and the color is beautiful.
"I wouldn't look good in something like that," I answer, but Danica rolls her eyes.
"Hailey, do you like it or not?"
When I nod, she grins from diamond-pierced ear to diamond-pierced ear.
"Good. You're trying it on."
In a fitting room that contains a plush, embroidered, fringed freaking sitting chair and a hanging crystal chandelier, for God's sake, I set my five-dollar purse down and take a calming breath. I'd honestly rather be cleaning up dog poop than tiptoeing around this store.
I spent all yesterday evening at the dog shelter, and I worked there again this morning. With the arrival of all of the new dogs rescued from the fighting ring, the shelter is extremely overcrowded and grossly understaffed. The few volunteers who work there have been stretching themselves thin, myself included. Rehabilitating abused animals is a time-consuming process, but it's worth it to see them go home with a new family, one that will play with them and take care of them and teach them what it means to be loved.
I don't have time to be trying on dresses I can't afford, but here I am, carefully slipping one over my head. I let it slide over my skin-it's almost as soft as the dress Dee made me for the music video, but not quite-and I stare down at my socked feet before letting my eyes travel up the length of the wall mirror in front of me.
It's not anything I would have picked for myself-a cotton-candy-pink dress that's high in the front but dives low in the back. I zip up the skirt portion of it and stand there studying myself until I bend down to yank off my neon-green socks.
With my bare toes on the white marble floor, I turn this way and that. I run my hands down the skirt. I spin a little back and forth to watch it fan out around me. I smile in the mirror.
"Are you ready?" Danica calls from the dressing room across from me, and I swallow as I open the door and step out to meet her.
She takes my breath away in the bright red dress she chose, which looks like it was made just for her. It fits like a glove on top and ends at a soft hem at the middle of her thigh, and I forget all about the reason she's buying it as I open my mouth to tell her how pretty she looks.
"Oh," she interrupts, scrunching her nose at me. I close my mouth, and she steps in close enough for me to see the line between her brows when she furrows them in disapproval. "You're right. This dress doesn't look good on you at all."
I stare down at the pink dress that had made me smile at my reflection just a minute ago, and then up into Danica's dark brown eyes. "What's wrong with it?"
"Well, for one, it's supposed to end here, not here," she says, poking my thigh and then just above my knee. "I mean, I suppose you could get it hemmed, but-" She lifts her hand to her mouth to conceal a quiet chuckle. "Hailey, you've got the worst chicken legs. I figured you would have grown out of those by now."
My cheeks stain red as I stare down at my knees while Danica circles behind me.
"Even your shoulders are bony." She comes to face me again, shaking her head. "No, this dress looks terrible on you."
"Oh . . ."
"We'll find you another one," she says with a white smile before spinning around. "What do you think of mine?"
"It's really pretty," I tell her, still thinking of my chicken knees and resisting the temptation to frown down at them.
"What about the back?" Danica asks, turning away from me.
I take in her smooth, lightly tanned skin; the perfect lines of her shoulder blades; the generous slope of her curves; her long, not-bony legs. "Beautiful," I tell her, and she beams when she turns back around.
"I think Mike is really going to love this one," she says, and I force a smile to keep my face from falling. "Okay, get that hideous dress off and let's pick out something else for round two."
We're on round five when Danica suggests we split up. "I'm going to check out those racks over there, but find something you like, okay? Remember, we're having fun."
Fun, I think as I walk through the store, positive that I'm being watched by security to make sure I don't steal anything. After the past four fun rounds of trying on dresses, I'm convinced that my knees are too bony, my legs are too stubby, my hips are too narrow, my shoulders are too pointy, my breasts are too small, my skin is too pale.
It's not like I could afford any of these dresses anyway, but they're all so pretty . . . and I guess I just wanted to look pretty in them.
I stop in front of a mannequin at the front of the store and chew on my lip as I admire it. She's propped up on a pedestal wearing the most gorgeous dress I've ever seen. It's sleeveless, but high-backed and long, so it would hide my bony shoulders and bony knees. The material is a soft cotton gauzelike fabric in a mist-gray color, with vibrant blue wildflowers gathered into striking bouquets throughout the pattern. The waist is cinched with a blue lace overlay, and the bottom is shaped into pretty, uneven layers lined by the same bright blue as the lace and flowers. The whole dress is stunning, and I stand there too timid to touch it.
"Oh, I love this," Danica says from beside me, and I snap out of whatever daydream I was in. She smiles down at me. "You should try it on."
I worry my lip as I stare back at the dress, but Danica is already snapping her fingers to get the closest saleswoman's attention. She makes them find one in my size, and then she nudges me toward the dressing rooms while she continues browsing the racks for something to try on herself.
Back in my crystal-chandeliered, fringed-chaired room, I remove my tennis shoes and socks and threadbare jeans. I tug my T-shirt over my head and unclasp my bra. I place all my secondhand clothes on the absurdly expensive-looking chair, and then I stand there staring at the beautiful dress hanging against the wall in front of me. I don't dare glance at the price tag before I remove it from its hanger and slip it over my head.
It's magic, how it molds against my curves. The V-cut top pulls my breasts up and together in a way that's sexy without being indecent, and the lace cincher hugs the curve of my waist flatteringly. The bottom drops down to just above my ankles, and I curl my bare toes against the polished floor as I stare down at it.
"Hailey, you almost ready?" Danica asks, and I hear her close and lock the door to her own dressing room.
"Yeah."
"Okay, hold on a sec."
I study myself in the mirror as I wait, wondering if Mike would think this dress is as pretty as I do. Would he think I'm pretty wearing it?
I consider looking at the price tag, but instead, I simply smile at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should snap a picture with my phone. Maybe I should send it to him.
"Alright, you ready?" Danica calls, and we both step out of our dressing rooms at the exact same time-wearing the exact same dress.
I freeze when she emerges in my soft gray fabric and bright blue wildflowers-her skin a shade tanner, her legs a lot longer, and her long copper hair cascading softly over her shoulders while mine curls wildly around my face. The bottom hem hits her shins at a much more flattering spot, and I notice all these details as she steps forward with a smile on her face.