Still, I wondered if he was enjoying college as much as he let on. I worried about him.
“Seriously, Nate. What gives?”
His shoulders slumped forward a bit and he lowered his voice. “Perry’s my best friend, and I think he needs me right now. The keg parties can wait.”
That was just like Nate. It wasn’t his fault Perry chose to defer a semester and lock himself in his room. And Nate could forget about it, say it wasn’t his problem, and party it up at school. But instead, he was coming to visit here every weekend. Not because Perry asked him to come, but because he knew Perry needed a friend around.
“You’re one of the good ones, Nate,” I said.
He blushed and shuffled his feet. “You all set up here?”
I put the witch under my arm and nodded. “I’ll follow you back down.”
When we got downstairs, Nate left to have dinner with his family, but I was thankful for his brief visit. Even if he only stopped by for an hour, it always brightened Perry’s mood. Perry was happily helping out now, busy putting orange LED-lit faux votive candles in every window.
I headed outside to finish with the few outdoor decorations Mom hadn’t had a chance to take care of. It was surprisingly warm, but I still wasn’t used to how early darkness was falling this week. I turned on the outside porch light to help me see better. Dead leaves crunched under my feet as I crossed the yard.
I surveyed what I had left to do and chose a lawn sign. It was wooden, hand-painted, with a ghost that said, BOO TO YOU. I picked up the mallet, ready to hammer the sign’s stake into the ground, when I first felt it. That prickly, creepy, familiar feeling.
I was being watched.
I scanned the windows, all lit but all empty. I faced our neighbor Milly’s house and saw nothing. Then I turned toward the small patch of trees on the other side of our property. I squinted at the shadows. The unmistakable feeling of unseen eyes weighed on me.
Someone was out there, in the darkness. I knew it. I strained my eyes, but couldn’t see anyone.
After a few moments of silence, I turned back to my work, aiming the mallet at the sign. Then came a sound. A scrape, like a shoe on the ground.
I spun around, eyes narrowed at the gloom. I waited, but heard no other sounds. Not even natural ones. Like the night was holding its breath. I still felt the presence, the tingling feeling on my skin. The mild fall evening suddenly felt very cold.
I was frozen in place with indecision. Running inside would feel cowardly, like I was letting whoever was watching me win. But every nerve in my body was telling me to go. I compromised by standing still for one more minute, then slowly backing toward the house. As my foot hit the bottom step of the front porch, I saw movement from behind a tree in the neighboring yard. A person was walking fast, headed my way. I balled one hand into a fist, tightened the other on the mallet, and readied a scream.
THE SHADOW CAME CLOSER AND FORMED A FAMILIAR frame. It was a girl.
“Clare!” the person called out.
I stepped forward, but kept the mallet gripped tightly in my sweaty palm. “Mallory?”
Finally she was in the porch light’s reach. “Hey, what’s up?”
I eyed her with suspicion. “Were you standing out there watching me in the dark?”
Mallory’s brow creased. “Uh, no, I just walked here from my house. Figured I’d help you decorate. You said you had a lot of work to do.”
I paused, not quite sure whether or not I believed her. But it was true that I’d complained about all the decorating.
“Why would I stand and watch you?” Mallory asked, frowning. “That’s creepy.”
I shook my head. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m sure there was no one there. This secret admirer just has me imagining things.” I felt bad for suspecting her. She was just coming over to help.
“So you’re feeling better?” I asked. “When I last saw you at school, you were green.”
“Oh yeah. Totally fine.”
I hammered the sign into the lawn. “Did you know Sierra well?”
“What?” Mallory’s eyes widened.
“That’s why you felt sick, right? Because the police came to school to ask around about her?”
“No, not at all. It was … something I ate,” she muttered as she sorted through the decorations.
I got the feeling Mallory was lying, so I pressed on. “But you live right near her, you must have —”
“Oh! Look at this one!” Mallory picked up a giant inflatable pumpkin.
“Yeah, the problem is we can’t find our air pump.”
“I’ll blow it up.”
I shook my head. “That would take forever.”
“I don’t mind.” She pulled at the spout. “My folks always say I’m full of hot air.”
I rolled my eyes and giggled at her dumb joke. While she nearly hyperventilated blowing up the pumpkin, I worked on the rest of the decorations. We gabbed about TV shows and I even confessed my love for horror movies, something I didn’t tell most girls, who might think that was a weird thing to like. Surprisingly, Mallory loved them, too, and we gushed about our favorites and argued over the greatest of all time. My vote went to Poltergeist. Hers to The Shining.
“This was fun,” I said when we’d finished. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” She stood and surveyed our work. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”
I only had to think for a second. “Nothing.”
“Good!”
“Why?” I wondered if I would regret this.
She grinned wickedly. “Because we’re going dress shopping.”
Mallory’s house was small and cluttered. Not in a dirty, hoarders kind of way. More like a family who loved and lived their hobbies.
“Where are your parents?” I asked.
“They’re out buying stuff that will be in our yard sale next summer.” At the sight of my confused face, Mallory added, “They’re antiquing.”
I laughed, finally getting the joke.
“As you can see, my mother is a big reader.” Mallory made a sweeping motion with her hand at the several piles of books in the living room. “And my father is a photographer.” Her fingers trailed along several framed photos on the wall, knocking one off center.
I stopped and fixed it. Symmetry was a compulsion of mine. When I was sure the frame was once again level, I gazed at the picture itself, a black-and-white landscape of the beach in winter.
“I love this,” I said.
Mallory’s face lit up. “I took that one.”
“Really?” I looked at her and back at the photo. “You’re pretty talented.”
“Thanks.” She smiled smugly. “I might try to join the year-book staff this year.”
“They’d be lucky to have you.”
The egg timer dinged in the kitchen and Mallory raised her arms in victory. “The pizzas are ready! We’ll chow and then stuff our bodies into tight dresses.”
“You will,” I corrected. I’d made Mallory agree to some concessions about our alleged dress shopping trip. First, we’d have a fun lunch before we went. Mallory suggested make-our-own-pizzas at her house, which was cool by me. And second, I wasn’t trying on a thing. I’d come along and help her find a dress for the dance, but that was it.
Mallory pulled the mini pizzas out of the oven and the smell filled the kitchen. I had chosen to make the old faithful: pepperoni. But Mallory took a more precarious route with her concoction. I frowned as she cut hers into slices.
She laughed. “Are you making faces at my pizza? You’re going to hurt its feelings.”
“I’m all for trying new things and all, but pickles? On a pizza?”
“It’s good, I swear!” She slid a slice onto her plate as I scooched my chair closer to the island. “Want a bite?”
I shook my head quickly. “No way. I’m sticking with mine.” I took a bite and chewed slowly. It was pretty darn good for homemade pizza.
I watched as Mallory took the fir
st bite of hers. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she moaned, pounding the table with her fist.
“What are you doing?” I said, laughing.
“Don’t interrupt me, I’m having a flavorgasm.”
That killed it. I cracked up, which kicked off a stream of laughter from Mallory in return. It was infectious, and soon we were both doubled over. After several minutes and tears in our eyes, I was finally able to breathe again.
Who knew that this strange girl I’d never spoken to before this month was so funny? Behind all that shyness, Mallory had hidden a hilarious personality.
“What?” Mallory asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Nothing.”
“Tell Mama the truth now, and you won’t get in trouble.”
I shrugged. “You’re just not what I expected, that’s all.”
“What did you expect me to be? Mute?”
I snorted. “Not exactly. Maybe a bit boring.”
Mallory waved her hand dismissively. “I’d give you the lecture on judging, books, and covers, but I think you’ve lived that one.”
“Oh yeah. People expect me to go into trances, dress like my mother, and talk about woo-woo all the time.” I paused, slice of pizza held in midair. “I’m glad we became friends. I’m glad that, as jaded as I am, someone can still surprise me.”
Mallory looked down at her plate. I’d complimented her, but for some reason she looked … sad. We finished eating in an uncomfortable silence, until Mallory brought our empty plates to the sink and announced, “Dress time!”
I moaned at her enthusiasm, which made her laugh. I was glad the tone had become lighthearted again. I followed her outside and into a silver sedan.
“Nice car.”
Mallory chortled. “I don’t have a car. This is my mom’s. Normally they would never let me take it out — I just got my license. But I think my mom was so deliriously happy at the idea of me doing something normal — like dress shopping — with an actual, real-life friend from school, that she let me take it.”
“I know how that is,” I said. “Now that girls at school are scrambling to be my fake friends, my mom’s all ‘You should at least try being sociable, Clarity. You might like it.’”
We shared a laugh at my mom imitation.
After a few minutes, I noticed we weren’t headed in the right direction. “Aren’t we going to the mall?”
“Not unless we want to look like one of the Barbie Brigade. We’re going to Lorelei’s.”
I think I’d walked by the storefront once. I’d assumed it was a costume shop. “What do they sell?”
She gave me a sly glance. “Renaissance, medieval, Victorian, and vintage dresses.”
Oh, dear lord.
We entered the store, and my senses were immediately overloaded. The music was loud and jarring. The smell of incense permeated the air. And the lighting was so dim that my pupils expanded to the size of dinner plates.
“Welcome to Lorelei’s.” A saleslady glided up to us. She had white foundation pancaked on her skin, and went heavy on the eyeliner and red lipstick. She wore a corset that barely contained … I’m gonna say it … her swelling bosom. If she had to sneeze, I was covering my eyes because even a slight cough could pop one of those suckers free.
Mallory had already started rifling through the racks oohing and aahing at various pieces. She pulled out a black satin, floor-length gown embellished with crystals along the bust. “Definitely trying that one on.” Then she picked another black gown, this one formfitting and laced down the back.
“We have some elbow-length black leather gloves that go perfectly with that one,” the saleslady said.
I slowly flipped through a rack. Ninety-nine percent of it wasn’t my style, but there were a few that weren’t so bad. Too bad they were so pricey.
“I don’t understand why you want to go to the dance anyway,” I said.
“This is my year of trying new things.” Mallory pointed to her dyed hair and funky clothes. “See exhibits A and B.” She smiled and gave a little shrug. “I’ve never been to a dance before and I’m a junior. It’s, like, this rite of passage I feel like I should experience. Plus, it might be fun.”
“Did you ask anyone to go with you yet?” I asked.
“No, but I could always go alone. Or with a friend.” She looked at me pleadingly.
I mock-glared back. “Who are you thinking of asking?”
“I don’t know,” she answered quickly. “So who’s the Barbie Brigade taking to the dance? They must have mentioned it to you.”
My eyes rolled up to the ceiling as I tried to remember the lunchtime chatter. “Brooke’s bringing Jordan, I think. Though they make up and break up every week. Kendra wants to ask Brendan, but she hasn’t yet. I don’t know the rest. To be honest, I only half listen to them.”
“That’s half more than I would,” Mallory said, lifting another dress from the rack. This one had black netting over blue satin. “I think I have enough to try on.” She frowned at my empty hands. “Where’s yours? Can’t find anything you like?”
“Honestly, I can’t afford anything here, and I don’t even know if I’m going to the dance.”
Mallory pulled a dress from the rack. “Here, try this on.”
“No, I —”
She shoved it into my arms. “Even if you’re not buying, you have to play dress-up with me.” She glanced down at the random dress she’d grabbed and added in surprise, “And that pale green really works with your hair.”
I held it up in the mirror and had to admit she was right. It was my style, too. Simple, knee-length with spaghetti straps. But it was also glamorous in its simplicity — kind of Old Hollywood. I snuck a peek at the price tag, and audibly gasped.
“It’s vintage,” the saleslady said. I hadn’t even realized she was still watching.
“It couldn’t hurt to try it on,” I said with a shrug. Even if I couldn’t afford to buy it.
Mallory gave a little clap. We each took a dressing room and busied ourselves as the sounds of zippers and rustling fabric floated around us.
“Clare,” Mallory said minutes later. “Come out and tell me what you think. I love this one!”
I peeked my head out the crack of the door and watched her spin. She wore the blue one with the black lace over it. No, not blue. Indigo. It was perfect for her — beautiful, yet also unusual.
“I love it. Honestly, Mallory. It’s gorgeous.”
“I know, right?” She beamed. “Now you come out. I want to see yours.”
I opened the door and tiptoed out, feeling overexposed. I crossed my arms and rubbed my shoulders.
Mallory’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth. “It’s like it was made for you.”
The saleslady wandered over and suggested we head toward the bay of mirrors near the front of the store, to see our dresses in the natural light. Mallory rushed forward, pulling me behind her. I felt even more naked there, by the giant storefront window with pedestrians walking by. But the dress looked even better.
“Damn, Clare. You’ve been hiding a cute little body underneath those big hoodies,” Mallory said.
I couldn’t help but smile. The dress really did look fantastic. But it was out of my price range and would just hang in my closet since I didn’t plan on going to the dance. So despite Mallory’s boos and hisses, I went back to the dressing room, changed, and put the dress back.
Minutes later, returned to my comfortable jeans and tee, I went along with Mallory to the register.
“I can’t believe you didn’t buy it,” she said with a pout.
“I don’t know if I’m going,” I repeated.
“If you don’t, it’s going to totally suck.”
“You’ll do fine without me,” I said.
The saleslady swiped Mallory’s credit card with a big commission-induced smile. “She’s right. You’ll look beautiful at the dance. You already caught someone’s eye.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. A spid
ery tingling crept down the back of my neck.
“When you went back to the dressing rooms, another customer came over to me all concerned because some guy had been ogling you two through the storefront window. Kind of clandestine-like from behind the pole.”
“EW! PERV!” MALLORY SAID.
Dread swelled in my stomach. Yeah, it might have been just some stranger checking out girls in their dresses. Or it could have been my secret admirer. Following me.
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“I didn’t ask,” the saleswoman said, putting a pen and the receipt on the counter for Mallory to sign.
“Where’s the customer who saw him?” I pressed.
“Long gone.” She slapped the credit card back on the counter. “Listen, girls, take it as a compliment. And enjoy it while you can. Youth is fleeting. When you’re my age, you’d give anything to have someone ogle you.”
Mallory didn’t seem too concerned on the way home. She said she figured it was a random person who happened to be walking by, not a stalker or anything. And that was a reasonable argument, but try telling that to my intuition.
She dropped me off at home and sped away. No cars were in the driveway. I tried the knob. Locked. On my way out, I hadn’t brought my key, figuring the chances of both Mom and Perry being out were the same as Tiffany becoming my BFF. Thankfully, we kept an extra key hidden under a potted plant on the porch.
I let myself in and flopped onto the couch, every sound I made echoing in the quiet. I got up on my knees and peeked out the window like a dog waiting for its owner. The driveway stayed empty. There had been times when I’d have paid money to have the house to myself like this. But now I wanted someone to talk to.
Perception Page 6
