We pass dozens of shops in the mall and finally enter one with barely covered mannequins in heels that could cut down the height gap between MJ and me. It would make kissing him a lot easier, but I’d probably break my ankle.
I linger in the entrance while everyone scatters for different racks. Even though I’m smiling and even though this excursion has been fun, I feel this dark cloud forming in the distance, casting a shadow on everything. It just feels . . . strange. I’ve been dealing with angels and demons for so long—real life no longer makes me feel welcome.
“Are you okay?” Sissy asks, walking back to me.
“Sorry, it’s just—”
I pause, debating whether I should confide in her. I look to Tamitha, and she’s watching us with a hopeful yet cautious expression.
I turn back to Sissy and sigh. “This will sound crazy, but I feel like I’m dreaming, like this isn’t real. I feel like I’m actually somewhere else—somewhere bad—and I created this happy scene to cope with it.”
“Well,” she begins, “I’m not an expert on you or anything. But I’m fairly certain that if you were going to create some alternate world to make yourself happy, it would not contain Amber. Or me.”
I drop my eyes. She does have a point.
“You are having fun, though, right?” Sissy asks.
After a moment, I nod. Hanging out with my friends has been a nice change of pace from all the crazy.
“So why are you hesitating?”
“I can’t help but feel something is going to come along and ruin all this.”
She tilts her head and narrows her amber eyes. It’s the same look my mom gives me when she’s worried about me. “Why do you think that?”
I shrug. “Because I’m happy.”
“So?”
“So, something bad always happens when I’m happy. At least this week, anyway.”
She frowns. “Nothing bad will happen.”
“You can’t know that.”
“True. But if something were about to happen, you have us and that.” She points to my bracelet. “I’m not sure how much MJ told you about its powers, but if a demon were within five miles, we’d know about it. As you can see, we’re fine.”
My left hand rubs over my bracelet. It does help to know I have a warning, but it isn’t enough to fully dissolve this sense of foreboding.
“This was optional for me—coming on this girls’ day,” Sissy adds in my silence. “I wanted to come, though.” She looks me in the eyes. “I want to apologize for trying to kill you.”
I stare back at her in shock. “Uhh . . . thanks,” is all I can manage.
The other Protectors have told me she’s sorry, but I never expected her to say it to my face. Actually, I never expected to be face-to-face with her like this. MJ didn’t want her around me until he trusted her again. Her being here and talking with me must mean she’s earned his trust again. He wouldn’t put her—or me—in this position otherwise.
“He’s important to you, isn’t he?” I ask.
“Who?”
“MJ.”
She nods. “He’s important to us all. He’s the first Protector as well as the best. We all look to him for guidance.”
My heart clenches. I didn’t know he was the first. But then again, I’ve been avoiding finding out anything about that part of him.
She gives me a weak smile and motions to the store. “Shall we?”
I follow her, joining my friends.
. . .
We’re all getting new outfits for tonight. They all find what they want right away, then they band together on a mission to find me the outfit. I’m not exactly sure what the outfit even is. Tamitha said when I try it on, I’ll know it’s the perfect one. And she said that when MJ sees it later, it’ll make him go stupid for me. I don’t really want him to “go stupid.” I don’t know what that even means, but I’m curious.
I feel silly modeling each dress as they sit in a line outside the dressing rooms. Amber’s disinterested with everything. Kayla and Maggie seem to disagree about each outfit I try. Sissy says she likes everything, though I think she’s just trying to be nice.
The reactions I pay the most attention to are Kelli’s, Tamitha’s, and Hannah’s. They’ve been the most animated. Kelli makes catcalls. I’m sure I’m the color of a boiled lobster.
I’ve been a little self-conscious about my scars from this morning and how much each dress shows. No one has commented on them, even though I know they must have seen them. Are they being compelled not to notice them? Probably.
As I walk out to show everyone the latest outfit, the chatter stops. The silence makes Amber look up from her phone. I’m wearing a white-lace knee-length dress with a heart-shaped top. The skirt whooshes and fans out when I spin. It’s perfect for dancing.
One by one, my friends smile. Amber even cracks a smile for a second. I smile too. They like it. I like it.
There’s just one problem.
“I’m not sure what shoes I should wear . . .”
“Oh!” Tamitha says, jumping up. “I’ve already got that covered.” She reaches behind the bench and grabs a backpack I hadn’t noticed her carrying around before. She pulls out—my cowgirl boots.
Amber makes a disgusted noise and goes back to her phone.
I grab the boots from Tamitha. Tucked inside is a pair of my socks too.
She thinks of everything.
I slip on the socks and boots and stand in front of the full-length mirror. I twist and turn, trying to see from all angles. I think this is the one.
My smile widens, thinking of MJ’s reaction. I hope he’ll like it. He went through so much trouble for me today.
My smile falls.
Trouble he shouldn’t have gone through. Girls are dying for me. And here I am getting ready for a date with a man who might be the only being who could save them.
I turn away, disgusted with myself. I open my mouth to tell everyone tonight is off, but I stop when I see the joy on Hannah’s and my friends’ faces.
Within the last week, I’ve almost lost them more times than I care to think about. It’s very possible I could still lose them before my birthday next week. But they don’t know that. They can never know that. They deserve to be happy, just as they are right now. I need this moment with them to carry me through whatever comes next.
I take a deep breath, bury my emotions, and force a smile.
. . .
I’m the last in line at the checkout counter. The sales clerk carefully packs the dress, then slides the bag to me without ringing me up.
“How much?” I ask.
Once I knew this was the outfit, I never even looked at the price tag. Now I chew my lip as I grab the emergency credit card from my purse. I’m supposed to use it only if something happens when Mom and Dad are gone.
The clerk just smiles. “Everything has been taken care of. Have a lovely day, Ms. Page.”
I shake my head in confusion. “But I still need to pay.”
Tamitha grabs my bag in one hand and my wrist in the other. “No, you don’t. MJ took care of it—for everyone. Come on now. We’re on a schedule.”
I let her pull me along in the mall, but I’m lost in the thought of MJ buying all our clothes. Does he even have money? Or did he compel the woman to just write it all off?
My brooding stops when Kelli squeezes my arm while jumping up and down next to me. I follow her gaze to see not only that we are about to enter a beauty salon but that my mom is here too, smiling at me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a daze as Mom wraps her arms around me.
She pulls back, and tears pool in her eyes. “And miss you getting ready for your date? Not a chance.”
Tears spring to my eyes as well. She’s here. For me. Even though I know how busy she is. I want to hug her and tell her I love her, but I can’t. It’s too soon. Doing that could bring the Perfugae. I can’t risk ruining this night. Not for my friends. Not for MJ. And not for me. MJ did all this for a reason. He knew I needed them.
I can’t tell my mom, or my friends, how I feel about them yet. But maybe today can be the first step toward repairing our relationships. Maybe today I can start to heal.
. . .
We’re all deposited in chairs for pedicures. Mom takes a seat beside me, while Kelli takes the other. Even though I think it’s ridiculous to get a pedicure—my cowgirl boots will hide it anyway—I don’t say anything. I’m still too stunned at MJ’s surprise of inviting my mom.
As my pedicure begins, my chair comes to life, giving me a massage. It digs into knots in my neck, back, and even my butt. I sigh as some of my tension evaporates.
Mom grabs my hand. “Are you nervous for tonight?”
“Yes,” I reply in all honesty.
Her other hand pats the top of our linked hands. “I was too on my first date with your father. I know this isn’t your first date with MJ, but still. It’s a big night.”
I sit up. “Really? You were nervous when dating Dad?”
She nods. “I couldn’t eat all day. I tried on every outfit in my closet as well your aunt Deb’s, trying to find the outfit.”
I smile a little, realizing the outfit is a universal connection all girls and women have had for years.
“By the time I was ready, he’d been waiting downstairs with your grandfather for almost an hour.”
I smile a lot at this, thinking about Grandpa and the hell he would have put Dad through. I’m glad MJ isn’t going through that tonight with Dad. He’s been through more than his fair share with Duane already.
My stomach rolls, thinking about Duane. It’s yet another part of my life that’s more surreal than real. Everything has changed.
“Where did you guys go?” I ask, distracting myself.
“Roller skating.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I liked to roller skate, and your father knew that. Your great-aunt Jeanne—the one who played roller derby—taught me. On our date, I made several laps around the rink before noticing your father clinging to the wall. He’s a very talented musician, but skating is not his forte.”
“So why did he do it?”
“He was so nervous, he chose the first thing he knew I’d like.”
“Huh.” I sit back with my head swimming. Dad is always so calm and confident. Hearing he was nervous about dating Mom gives me hope.
“So tell me about MJ,” Mom says.
I smile. “He’s—”
“Perfect,” Kelli says.
“And hot,” Kayla and Maggie add.
“Have you kissed him?” Mom asks.
I can feel my cheeks heating. Part of me wants to say, who doesn’t know we kissed? The evidence is burned into Hiniker Bridge. Instead I opt for a simple, “Yes.”
“So . . . tell me about it. Is he a good kisser?”
“Mom!”
“I’ve seen them kiss, Mrs. Page,” Tamitha says, sitting several seats away.
I whip around to her.
“He’s so good I can feel the heat of it.” She winks at me, and my jaw drops.
“Really?” Mom asks, suddenly sounding concerned.
“She’s kidding, Mom,” I cut in. “We’ve kissed only a few times—and that’s all we’re going to do.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, honey. He seems really great”—her smile is tighter now—“but this is pretty fast for you. You’re so different with him.”
It is fast, in some ways. But in other ways, it feels just right. I don’t want to voice that, though. It wouldn’t make sense to Mom or anyone. It barely makes sense to me. I just . . . feel it.
“Seriously, Mom,” Hannah says when I haven’t replied. “He’s her person.”
I look back and forth between my mom and sister, trying to figure out what that means. “What?”
My mother’s smile grows into a sheepish grin, and she sits back, content.
“What?” I repeat.
Everyone else mimics my mother’s grin of silence and rests back into their chairs. Apparently, they all get it.
I lean back too. It’s not exactly easy to describe MJ. He’s just everything I didn’t know I needed. I guess that’s what they mean.
Manicures follow the pedicures, then we’re taken to salon chairs to have our hair and makeup done. The stylist doesn’t ask me about a style. She just rambles on about dating advice as she works on my hair and touches up my makeup.
Eventually I just tune everything out and keep my eyes shut. Between the dress, nails, makeup, and now hair, I’ll be a different person. I don’t want to see another different version of me. I don’t want to think about the remaining targets—especially when Amber is sitting five chairs away from me.
“Finished,” the stylist sings.
I don’t look in the mirror yet, but I know I have to. My stomach flips over as I roll my eyes up and finally lift my gaze.