“No, silly.” She laid her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m doing this for you. I don’t think you need a makeover, but you keep telling me how you’re beneath Evan, so I figure the better you feel about your appearance, the better you’ll feel in your own skin.”
I hung my head and let out a strangled laugh. “I’m not sure I could ever feel comfortable in my own skin.”
Chloe sighed and led me to the bed. “Sit.” I did, and she went on. “I know what you went through must have been…” She trailed off, and when I glanced at her, her eyes were unfocused and watery. “Well”—she took a breath—“it must have been terrible.”
She said it with such conviction, it was almost as if she knew everything I’d gone through and just how bad it’d been. As if she understood every broken part of me and didn’t think less of me because of it.
But then she blinked and asked quietly, “What was it like?”
No one had ever expressly asked me that before. They’d asked me what had happened, and they wanted to know right down to the minute details. But they’d never asked what it was like. It was as if they wanted the experience pared down to a bulleted list without any of the emotion, as if they wanted the horrors that filled the spaces in between to be forgotten, never mentioned. Even my therapist skirted the conversation, focusing instead on the present, and how I was feeling now.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice raw. I cleared my throat. “It was… scary.”
Chloe nodded and took my hand in hers. Hers was warm and strong. Chloe always came off small and harmless and bubbly, like a chickadee chirping for no other reason than to chirp. But right now, the hardness in her eyes and the sure way she held herself, shoulders rigid, forearms tense, it was like she’d flipped a switch. I realized, suddenly, that there was nothing small about her, no matter what she looked like.
“Then this is what you do,” she said. “You take that fear, you take those horrible experiences and you lay them at your feet, and you build yourself a throne on top of them. You survived. You lived. It makes you special, Lis. No one else in this godforsaken town is as strong as you.”
I blushed, for a moment believing every word she said. That surviving did make me special. But then the horror of the experience rushed back in, and I remembered that I was nothing more than a victim who’d barely survived at all.
“If you hate this town so much,” I said, “why do you stay?”
Chloe lived alone in a small studio apartment. She’d once told me she’d moved to Trademarr when she was thirteen, and that her parents had homeschooled her. I’d never met them though, and as far as I could tell, they no longer lived here.
If I had the resources to leave Trademarr, I would in a heartbeat. In fact, I dreamed about it, and sometimes it was the only thing keeping me going. I wasn’t sure about my plans after high school—I still had one more year to complete before graduating—but if I was able to go to college, then I was going as far away as I could.
When I was young, my mother had always talked about moving to California. To the land of permanent summer, she’d called it, and sometimes, in my heart of hearts, I entertained the thought of escaping there, too.
Chloe stood up, still considering my question, and returned to the closet, giving me her back. “Let’s just say I have a lot of history here and leaving it has been harder than I thought it’d be.”
“Oh.”
When she turned again, all traces of her earlier hardness had disappeared, replaced with her wide smile and glittering blue eyes. “Look at this! I forgot I had it. You should wear it.”
She handed me a silky peach-colored dress. I was fairer skinned than Chloe, like bleached sand. The dress would disappear on me.
“That’s the point,” Chloe said when I mentioned it. “It’ll look like you’re naked without actually showing anything.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure that’s what I want.”
She screwed up her mouth as she thought. “Okay, fine, then how about the dress with the polka dots?”
I grabbed it from the bed. “I do like this one.”
“Good.” Chloe set her hands on my shoulders and steered me toward the bathroom. “Now hurry. Evan said he’d be here to pick us up in less than twenty minutes.”
My stomach thrilled at the idea of spending the night, outside of Merv’s, with Evan. Twenty minutes seemed like an eternity, and like no time at all.
7
NICK
I THREW A FEW T-SHIRTS IN MY BAG AND went back to the closet for a pair of jeans.