Amber’s eyes dart to my fist and then to Mel. She shrieks and jumps back, like I’m going to slug her in the face. “You said she wasn’t coming home! You said you weren’t coming home!”
I was nice to her and this is how she repays me. “So, you decided to sleep with my best friend? Just kill me while you’re at it! Where is he?” I push past Amber and into the room. Fury is building in my fists. If I don’t punch something soon, I’m going to snap. I can’t believe Marty. I can’t possibly fathom why he’d want Amber.
But when I shove into the room, the sight makes me stop in my tracks. The emotions boiling inside of me don’t know where to go, so they come out of my mouth is a strangled sobbing laugh. My mouth gaps open and my fingers try to cover it. I’m stunned into silence.
My side of the room has been barren since I moved in. I couldn’t afford to decorate it. After I shove past Amber, I see Marty sitting on my bed—fully clothed—and waving the tips of his fingers at me. The bed he’s sitting on isn’t mine. I mean, it is, but the bedspread and pillows… OMG. And it doesn’t stop there—the walls, the bed, the windows, the nightstand—everything is beautiful.
It’s decorated in purples and browns. It’s exactly what I would have wanted, but better. Everything is perfect. The bedspread is two-tone raw silk in my favorite shade of lilac. The little lamp on the night stand has a vintage shade with tassels hung from the base. There’s a dark chocolate colored frieze rug on the floor, so when I step out of bed in the morning my feet won’t get cold.
There’s art—a real painting—above my headboard. I have a tufted headboard! My side of the room doesn’t look like a prison cell anymore. It’s a real bedroom, soft and pretty like Mel’s room. The entire time I look around, Mel is muttering obscenities and craning her neck the same way that I am, trying to take it all in.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. My fingers are jammed to my lips as I stare.
“Do you like it?” Marty sounds uncertain, like maybe he shouldn’t have done it. “You always said it was lacking, that you would have done something with it.” Marty looks at his hands and twists his fingers. “I wanted to give you a present. You’ve been through hell this week. I thought you were going to be out tonight. I was going to decorate, just slip in and out, but then Amber came in and… well, you came back early.” Marty gives me a lopsided smile and stands. Extending his arms, Marty says sheepishly, “Surprise.”
I slam my hand against my chest to free the words caught in my throat. My lip trembles when I pull my fingers away. Every bit of my brain is in emotional overload. I can’t process what he’s done. Pressing my lips together, I try to speak. At first nothing comes out. I clear my throat and try again. “It’s beautiful. I love it! I can’t believe you did all this!” I run over to Marty and throw my arms around him. He towers over me so that my head is barely at his shoulders. He hugs me and pats my back.
When Marty pulls away, he says, “It’s kind of shabby chic meets modern. I didn’t know what style you’d like, so I guessed.”
I can’t stop smiling at him. I run my palm over the bedspread, feeling the soft fabric beneath my hand. “It’s perfect. Everything is perfect. I love it! I can’t believe you did this for me!”
“You deserve it, kiddo.” Marty smiles at me. I can tell that he wants to say more, but Amber is there. His eyes flick over to Mel. “Someone said that work was getting harder and harder. Having something nice to come home to, well, it makes things a little better. And since you’ve got a good job, I thought you might want to stay for the summer and graduate early. We’d have so much fun.”
“You’re staying this summer?” I ask, and he nods.
Mel finally speaks up. “You almost made her brain blow up. And holy shit—you need to decorate my room. I would have never put this stuff together and it looks freakin’ awesome.” Mel’s still looking at things with her mouth hanging open—the curtains, the table, the linens. I have linens!
Marty laughs and looks at me. “What’d you think I was doing?” His eyes cut to Amber and he startles. He does a double take. “Oh. Oh!” He smacks me lightly with the back of his hand. “Miss Dirty Brain!”
Amber’s voice is hard. She glares at me. “What, you think I said all the crap in the stairwell for—fun?”
I’m glad Amber’s nuts. I’m glad she’s always the same, always a bit bitchy. My hands fly up, palms facing her. “I don’t know my ass from my elbow. Do what makes you happy, Amber, just don’t do it on my new bed.” I giggle and jump on it and fall back. The throw pillows that were so neatly stacked get squashed under my head, while the rest tumble to the floor.