Chapter 32 Playing Along
It was the last week of school. The graduation party was on Saturday, just a few days away.
When I got home that afternoon, something in my room felt off.
Not obvious. Not sloppy. Just wrong in a way you only noticed if you were used to cataloging details.
The drawer under my desk hadn’t been closed the way I left it.
The stack of documents inside was slightly misaligned.
My laptop, closed when I left, now sat open.
Apple had been at school with me all day. So there was only one other person who snooped with that particular brand of entitlement.
Marissa.
I didn’t react. I closed the drawer. Straightened the papers. Shut the laptop.
I let the irritation pass, letting it settle into something colder. Something useful.
A minute later, soft footsteps approached and Marissa appeared in my doorway, a large white garment bag draped over her arm.
“Ashley,” she said. “I looked through your closet today and realized you don’t have anything appropriate for the graduation party. And since it’s only few days away, I went out and found you the perfect dress.”
She smiled, pleased with herself, and unzipped the bag.
“I searched everywhere,” she continued proudly. “This designer is really gaining attention. Everyone’s scrambling to get a piece. You’ll be wearing a one-of-a-kind.”
The green dress slid into view, and I recognized it instantly.
The same awful, unforgiving thing I had worn in my last life.
A no-name designer trying very hard to become someone. Too bright. Too loud. Too “look at me.”
“This shade brings out your eyes,” she continued, holding it up against me. “And the structure. So elegant. So memorable. This is a very special night, Ashley. You should look… good.”
Apple drifted in behind her, peering over Marissa’s shoulder.
“Oh my God, Ash, it’s gorgeous,” she said. “So elegant. Everyone will be obsessed.”
Of course she would help sell it.
Marissa clapped her hands. “Go on, sweetheart. Try it on.”
I could have said no.
I could have rolled my eyes, shut the garment bag, or simply walked away.
But no.
Let them think they were winning.
I took the dress and slipped into the bathroom. The fabric felt exactly as I remembered, heavy in the wrong places, stiff where it should have flowed. The zipper rasped up my spine.
When I stepped back out, Marissa was already waiting by the mirror.
She inhaled sharply, pleased.
The dress made me look wider, shorter, heavier.
Exactly as before.
“Beautiful,” she sighed, moving behind me as though adjusting a mannequin. She tilted my shoulders, smoothed the fabric, nudged my chin.
“Stand like this. Softer. Relax. Yes… there. Perfect.”
In my last life, I wore this dress. Uncomfortable. Self-conscious. Ignoring the whispers that followed me all night. Pretending not to notice the way people stared, not with admiration, but curiosity. Amusement.
And when I sat down, the seam near my ass split with a tear, exposing me, humiliating me, making Apple the center of attention with her “Oh no, poor Ashley!” routine.
I remembered all of it.
Apple’s eyes lit up.
“Wow,” she said. “That looks amazing on you. Totally your style.”
Marissa preened. “Isn’t it?”
“You have to wear it,” Apple added easily.
I nodded once. Let my expression soften just enough. “Thank you.”
No argument. No hesitation. No refusal.
Marissa exhaled in satisfaction.
“It’s perfect,” she declared.
I changed out of the dress and returned it carefully to the garment bag. Marissa zipped it closed with a contented hum, patting the top as if sealing a deal.
“We’ll steam it that morning,” she said. “You’re going to look stunning.”
She left my room glowing, victorious. Apple followed her, both of them convinced they’d secured my compliance.
I waited until the door closed before letting the mask drop.
I had worn that dress before and I had absolutely no intention of wearing it again.
Later that night, I went downstairs for a glass of water.
I didn’t make it all the way.
Low voices drifted up from the living room.
Marissa’s voice first.
Then Apple’s.
I paused on the second-floor landing, letting the shadows swallow me.
“…just don’t provoke her before the deal is finalized,” Marissa said.
Apple scoffed. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You were,” Marissa snapped. “You always do. And right now, I need you to behave.”
A pause.
“I don’t like her acting like she’s above me,” Apple muttered.
I leaned against the railing, silent, amused.
“Apple,” Marissa snapped. “Until everything is signed, you need to behave. No fights. No scenes. She’s… unpredictable lately.”
Unpredictable.
That one almost made me smile.
Apple sighed dramatically. “Fine. Whatever.”
They shifted topics. Apple’s dress, the performance schedule, instructions on how she should act around important people.
Then footsteps.
Somebody started toward the stairs.
I didn’t move.
Marissa took the first step, looked up and froze.
For a split second, her face went blank.
Caught.
Exposed.
A deer in headlights.
Thinking how long I’d been standing there. How much I heard.
Then the smile snapped into place.
“Oh,” she said lightly. “You’re still awake, Ashley? I’m sorry if we woke you.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I was just getting some water.”
Her eyes searched my face, trying to read me. But I kept my expression unreadable.
“Well,” she said softly, climbing up, “don’t stay up too late.”
She brushed past me and I watched her disappear down the hall.
Then I turned and headed back down the stairs to the kitchen.