Chapter 24
RIVER CROSSROADS OUTLET MALL
Okay, hear me out: I know it’s ridiculous to lose your mind about a dress while a shadowy figure tries to ruin your reputation and possibly even frame you for murder. But you have to understand.
It’s a really cute dress.
Mom sits on the red velvet couch in the fitting room, watching with a critical eye as I pivot my hips in the mirror.
She’s the one who insisted we drive to the outlet mall tonight to look for dresses.
I’d been planning to wear something from my closet, but she’d just grabbed her purse, snapping, “Everyone will be watching you, Iris. You cannot afford to phone it in.” And she’s right, though it’s kind of weird that she’s better at high school PR than I am.
But in this moment, watching the drape of the champagne-colored fabric against my legs, sensing how it will move when I’m dancing—and, most importantly, imagining what Jonah will think when he shows up to see me in it—I’m glad she made me come.
I hold my hair on top of my head, modeling a few different options.
“That’s gonna look great with the pig blood they dump on you.” Noelle has come into the fitting area with an armful of fabric draped over one arm.
Mom stands up and walks briskly over to Noelle. “And what’ve you got to try on? Oh, no, Noelle, these colors are awful. I’ve told you a hundred times, you are a light spring, you need to look for softer tones! Peach, vanilla, mint! What on earth are you thinking?”
I’m not much inclined to stand up for my sister after the pig blood bit. But looking at the way her body curls into itself while my mom harangues her, it’s hard not to feel bad for her.
“Jeez, Mom, just let her try on what she likes.” I let my hair fall back down and turn to face them. “It’s one stupid dance. It’s not going to matter if she’s in, like, tomato red instead of cherry red or whatever.”
I meet Noelle’s eyes for a moment. I don’t know why I’m even taking her side—it’s not like she wants my help. Her cheeks go slightly pink but she doesn’t look away.
Then Mom has to ruin it. “Well, you’re right. It’s not like she’s going to be on the court.”
Noelle throws the stack of clothes on the back of the red velvet couch. “I’m not even going to the stupid dance. I’m just looking for something to wear for the drama and forensics competition.”
“Not going to the…” Mom turns and looks at her, hands on hips. “Noelle, you have to start getting out there, honey. How’re you going to find a boyfriend if you don’t go to the dances?”
Noelle mumbles something I can’t quite make out and stomps out of the room. Mom’s eyes narrow after her.
“You don’t think she’s a lesbian, do you?” she asks, her voice dropping to a whisper for the objectionable word.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it should matter,” I say, stepping down off the dais.
“Well, you know me, I’m not small-minded. I used to have a Melissa Etheridge CD,” she says. “I just don’t want life to be harder for her than it already is, poor little thing.”
“Well, maybe life wouldn’t be so hard for her if you and Dad were a little more supportive,” I say. “Just let her do her own thing and stop trying to make her be me.”
I’ve thought it roughly a million times, but I’ve never said it out loud before. I’m not sure what possesses me now. Maybe it’s just that I’ve been piled on enough this week, and I don’t want to watch someone else go through that too.
But Mom doesn’t even hear me. She’s busy looking for something in her purse.
“I’d better get out there and try to steer her away from the jewel tones. They wash her out so badly!” she says. “Do you need anything, sweetheart?”
I shake my head. “No. Thanks.”
Back in the changing room I wiggle myself free of the dress.
I don’t have the curves Mom used to have, in her own cheerleading days, but she was never a flier.
Noelle and I are actually built more or less the same—short, thin, wiry.
The difference between us, at least between the way we look, is mostly style and makeup.
And, of course, the fact that I am at the very top of a pyramid several times a week.
That’s the difference that matters to Mom.
I hear voices coming, along with the rustling of fabric. I pull up my jeans, thinking that it’ll be Mom and Noelle, and step out into the waiting area of the changing room, only to find myself face-to-face with Katy Phillips.
Her eyes go wide as she registers my presence. The flush that rushes across her face clashes with the strawberry blond of her hair. She straightens up, hugging the stack of dresses closer to her chest, like she actually thinks I’m going to rip them out of her arms.
“Oh. Hi,” I say, doing my best to sound cool and collected.
She doesn’t answer. Just steps back and tries a different fitting room door. I try again.
“Are you shopping for homecoming?” I ask.
She levels a look of total loathing toward me. “Yeah. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she sneers. “How about you?”
For some reason, the answer that pops into my mind is pure unadulterated Lynette.
Lynette wouldn’t have skipped a beat. She’d have said, straight to Katy’s face, Yeah, I’m going with your boyfriend too, just to get a rise out of her.
That was how she’d been: flippant, almost aggressive.
At least when someone came for her. I wish I had one iota of her fire. I could really use it right now.
“Uh. Yeah. Looking for a dress,” I mumble. “For the dance. Sorry, I’ve got to…” I take a few steps away. “I need a different size,” I finally say, even though the dress I’ve picked out fits like a glove.
Out in the store, I see my mother looking through a rack of sequined dresses. If she’s trying to find something for Noelle, it’s going to end in another fight.
“Hi,” I say.
“Have you decided?” she asks without looking up.
“About the dress? Oh, uh, yeah. If the price is okay, I really love it,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”
She sighs. “You know, I just don’t understand your sister.
If someone had taken me to the mall to buy me fancy dresses when I was her age, I’d have fallen all over myself to thank them.
But I had to work for my clothes.” I’ve heard it before, of course.
How the only clothes she ever got were frumpy hand-me-downs from her cousins and sisters.
How she had to work twenty hours a week at Bath & Body Works so she could afford clothes and makeup that didn’t make her want to put a bag over her head. How she …
“… saved for weeks to get that copper-colored Calvin Klein dress,” she’s saying now, rifling through the rack with a little more violence than before.
“You girls don’t even know. I had to sneak it out of the house because it was so short.
Your grandfather didn’t like us wearing anything above the knee.
But it really was one of the most magical nights of my entire life. Why wouldn’t Noelle want that?”
“She’s got a few more years to have it, anyway,” I say, though I don’t like Mom’s chances. I don’t see Noelle suddenly getting a girly streak. “Where’d she go, anyway?”
Mom looks up. “Oh, who knows. She probably found a Hot Topic where she can dress up like a Pok-a-man or whatever. Are you ready to check out?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I say. “I left my purse in the dressing room. I’ll go grab it.”
The changing rooms are empty when I get back to them. Katy must’ve gone to find a few more options. Or maybe she just left after she saw me. I push open the door of the room where I left my dress.
There on the mirror, someone has scrawled something in lipstick.
KILLER.