15. Alison #4
She starts asking about alteration allowances.
Extra fabric. How much the waist can be let out without ruining the shape.
She does it so smoothly the consultant never blinks — never has any reason to wonder why a teenager needs a prom dress built to grow.
She rejects anything that won’t change with me.
But she also refuses anything designed to bury me under fabric, anything that treats my body like a thing to be hidden instead of dressed.
I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing both at once.
I don’t think she could tell me where she learned it.
Eventually she disappears with the consultant and comes back carrying another dress. “This one.”
Penny sighs. “You’ve said that six times.”
Bella ignores her and holds it out to me. “Trust me.”
Penny snorts. “Bold request today.”
I take it anyway.
The second I see myself in the dressing-room mirror, I know.
The bodice fits without squeezing me. The skirt falls softly from my waist, structured enough to be beautiful, forgiving enough to change with me.
And my stomach — it’s there. My little bump.
Not hidden. Not obvious enough that anyone who doesn’t already know would understand.
But there. So are the bruises on my arms. For one second, I look at all of it at once.
What Dad did. What Ryan and I made. What I’m surviving. What I’m keeping.
Then I walk out.
Nobody speaks. Becca’s eyes immediately fill again. Cat smiles. Penny’s mouth falls open.
Bella looks me over once. Then nods. “That’s it.”
I turn toward the mirror and suddenly I’m crying.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Cat says.
I laugh and wipe beneath my eye. “What?”
“No more crying. We’ve met our quota.”
“You’re crying,” Becca tells Cat.
Cat wipes beneath one eye. “No, I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Mind your business.”
I look at myself again. At the dress. At my stomach.
At the bruises Dad left on me. And for one stupid, beautiful second, I can picture Ryan beside me.
His hand over mine. No hiding. No pretending we hate each other.
No Victor. No Dad deciding where I’m supposed to stand or who I’m supposed to become. Just Ryan. Me. Our baby.
“I didn’t think I’d get one.”
Becca’s expression softens. “A dress?”
I shake my head. “A prom.” Nobody jokes. My throat closes. “I never thought I’d have one.”
Because there was never supposed to be this. A dress I chose. A boy I chose. A baby I already love so much it frightens me. A future that belongs to me.
Cat reaches me first. Then Becca. Then Penny.
They wrap around me carefully, avoiding the bruises, trying not to crush the dress.
I laugh through my tears. Bella stays where she is, of course, watching us like group affection might be contagious.
But when we finally separate, she walks over and fixes the strap that slipped from my shoulder.
“You’re all exhausting.”
Her voice isn’t nearly mean enough.
The consultant calls Penny into the sitting room to confirm something about the alterations. Cat follows because she has an opinion. Becca goes with them. I’m turning toward the dressing room when Bella catches both my hands.
“Alison.” I look at her. “Let them see you.” I frown.
Her eyes move over me — the bruises, my stomach, back to my face.
“Not now. Not until you’re safe.” Then she looks directly into my eyes.
“But when you are?” Her fingers tighten around mine.
“Stop making yourself smaller for men who were always going to hate anything they couldn’t own. ”
My breath catches. Bella’s smile is sharp. Beautiful. A little sad.
“Wear the dress. Love your boy. Have your baby.” Her eyes hold mine. “Be fucking impossible to erase.”
And it isn’t the words. It’s the way she says them — not like advice she’s giving from the outside, but like a thing she learned somewhere it cost her to learn it, and is handing to me so it won’t have to cost me the same.
Something about it makes my chest ache. Like she’s already watched what happens to a woman who let herself be made small.
Like she’s determined to watch me be the one who doesn’t.
Before I can decide what to do with any of it, Bella releases my hands.
The girls come back in. Penny is looking at her phone. Bella’s buzzes. She pulls it out. Stops. Then very slowly looks up.
“Penelope.”
Penny doesn’t look at her. “What?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
My phone buzzes. So does Cat’s. Becca checks hers and immediately starts laughing. I look down.
Penelope added Bella to the bitches & bullshit group chat
Bella stares at her screen. “Remove me.”
“No.”
“Penelope.”
“You know about the baby now.”
Bella looks around the room. “Is this a group chat or witness protection?”
“Both,” Becca says.
“I will kill all of you.”
Cat looks at her phone. “You’ll have to coordinate that with the group.”
Bella’s thumbs move. Our phones buzz.
Bella: I fucking hate it here.
Becca reacts with a heart. Cat adds one. Penny adds another. I smile and add mine. Bella stares at the four hearts beneath her message. Then at us.
“You’re all cunts.”
Penny smiles. “Welcome to the group.”
Bella rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t leave.