Speechless(126)

                “Can we look?” she asks. “Just a look. Really.”

                I roll my eyes a little but follow her in. This store, Athena,                     is a hotbed for teen girls looking to catch up on the latest trends. At least                     eighty percent of my own wardrobe originates from here.

                Asha fingers her way through a rack of dresses toward the back                     of the store. She pulls some out—ranging from the pretty to the god-awful, and                     all of them way too big for her tiny frame—and holds the hangers up to her chin.                     One in particular is just a crime against fashion, and for that matter, all laws                     of nature—this horrible shade of orange with poofy sleeves and a giant bow at                     the hip. Tacky to the max.

                “What do you think?” she asks, trying to keep a straight face                     but barely suppressing a grin. “Fabulous, right?” She spins in a circle with the                     dress pressed to her front, and we both laugh.

                My laugh stops short, however, when I turn my head and catch                     sight of Kristen Courteau all of six feet away. She has a few dresses draped                     over her arm and is staring at me.

                The funny thing—not ha ha funny, but, you know—is that she                     looks shocked. Upset, even. Only for about two seconds, of course, before she                     masks her expression with her default bitchy face. The perfect look for an ice                     princess, I can’t help but think nastily.

                Except my feelings toward Kristen aren’t all nasty. They’re…                     complicated, like everything else in my life. Because, stupidly, I miss her.                     Even with everything that happened. Even if our friendship was never the same                     after she hooked up with Warren. All I want at this moment is for her to look at                     me and smile like she used to. The smile that made me feel important, because                     Kristen is important, because people want to look like her, date her, be her, and she chose me as her best friend, so that                     had to mean something.

                And maybe she meant some of that crap in the article, about how                     bad she felt about what happened to Noah, and it wasn’t just damage control.                     Part of me wants to believe she does. I want to believe that I wouldn’t ever be                     friends with someone completely heartless.

                Tessa steps out from one of the dressing rooms. “You should                     totally buy the pink one,” she says. “It’s so hot. Brendon will die.”