Havoc:Mayhem Series #4(49)

"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.