EARLY THE NEXT morning I stood in the middle of my room, staring at the clothes I’d picked out yesterday sprawled across the bed. I dared to turn on the small nightstand lamp that I used for reading, and even though it only allowed the smallest gleam, I would not risk turning on the brighter overhead light.

I wanted no interruption the first time I tried on regular clothes.

My stomach sprouted into elaborate somersaults. I hoped anticipation was not the better part of pleasure because I sure expected a lot of pleasure from these new clothes.

I chewed the side of my lip as I shimmied out of my heavy nightgown, leaving it a crumpled puddle on the floor. Standing nude save for my modest underwear, I held up the jeans against my legs. They seemed far slimmer than my actual shape but they slid on easily, molding over every curve of my body like a second skin.

I almost released a squeal of delight.

Almost.

The waist hit several inches below my belly button, somehow accentuating the sharp curve of my waist.

Turning to one side, then the other, I studied how I looked the best I could. Every few breaths I stopped to listen for any sound from Charles or Edna.

At one point, I heard what sounded like a quick shuffle of feet. I glanced at the door, my breath nearly severed with panic. Was someone moving in the kitchen just outside my door?

I moved to put my ear against the cool wood.

And…I heard nothing. Then the shuffling sounded again, but now it sounded like it was coming from outside my window.

With a hand to my frantic heart, I tried to calm my nerves. It was just an animal—a deer, likely—out for an early morning graze.

Calm down, for goodness’ sake, Marli. Don’t be such a spazz.

Moving in jeans, the softer-than-I-expected fabric rubbing against my skin, made me feel naked, like I had nothing on and wore only my underwear still. Even in the dim light I could see the muscles of my legs—calves and thighs, even my bony knees—on full display. Not to mention the tight hug around my hips.

I pulled the blouse over my head…slid my feet into the shoes…and marveled at the way they felt on my body.

I could almost hear the mountain’s dearly departed turning over in their graves.

In the frumpy mountain clothes, no part of my body was visible save for my hands, head, and neck. No piece of my clothing ever formed to show a shape. In fact, the bulkier, more voluminous the better, leaving me swallowed in a haze of scratchy cotton.

But now…now I felt like I looked…

I turned to the side and scanned the right side of my body.

Then the other side.

Back to the front where I gazed downward.

Now…I looked good.

And this time I couldn’t suppress the little squeal that escaped.

I could pass for one of the regular girls at school, fitting right in with their style. If someone didn’t know I came from the mountain, by looking at me now, they never would.

The thought sent a thrill straight through me, like an arrow of electricity shot from Cupid’s bow.

The makeup was lying in a row on the dresser, assembled by area of the face it was meant to paint.

I lifted a soft pink lip gloss and slid it over my lips, stunned at the stickiness it left. I swung the perfume beneath my nostrils, inhaling the sweetness, but did not put it on.

A quick glance at the clock, though, told me I’d better quit ogling myself and hurry or I wouldn’t have much time with Nate. With as little noise as possible, I hid the clothes and makeup in an old suitcase under the bed, masked it behind a box filled with heavy winter sweaters, then gave the room a quick once-over for any remaining evidence.

When I saw none, I pulled my longest skirt on over the jeans and slid into a heavy sweater then clunky clogs. If someone should be awake when I returned, I would look like I did every other morning, if only a little bulkier.

This morning I left through the back door. Maybe it was the clothes that made me feel bold and powerful, like I wore sort of a superwoman’s cape. Or maybe I was losing my mind, and just at the point of full destruction, I was throwing all caution to the wind.

Whatever the case, I didn’t feel scared. Instead, I felt confident, sure of exactly what I wanted—to see Nate—and I wasn’t going to let anything stand in my way.

My feet glided across the damp grass, the ground slippery from dew. The abundance of clothing made me hot but I didn’t shed layers, still in awe of the feel of the clothes against my skin.

I slid along the periphery of the forest until I made it to the river. A few seconds later Nate strode into view.

“You’re early!” I darted forward.

“Hey, beautiful.” He held me tight.

“I’m so glad you came.”

“Of course I came.”

I released a soft giggle then grabbed his hand, leading him into the forest.

“How’d the visit with your PO go?”

“Good. He found me a pro bono lawyer who says there should be no problem winning the emancipation. He can draw up the paperwork when I give him the green light.”

“Did you give him the green light?”

“I will. Tomorrow, probably.”

“Why wait?”

“There’s this thing with the police. I’ll see what I can find tonight.”

“The address, you mean? To your brother’s lab?”

“Yeah, or anything that might be helpful. That kid who OD’d a week ago? His older brother died a year ago.”

“From what?”

“Meth. Likely bought from Jude, too.”

“So the family has lost two of their sons? That is so sad.”

“I know. So I’ll see what I can do to help before someone else dies.”

“Nate, I wish you would let the police handle this. It seems too dangerous.”

“Jude is a son-of-a-bitch, worse than a donkey’s smelly ass. He needs that smelly ass thrown in jail.”

“I know…but still. I don’t like the sound of this.”

“You don’t?” He leaned into my neck, his lips hot on my skin.

“No. But I do like that…”

As his hands traveled to the top of my hips, his warmth spread over my body like the heat of a torch waved inches from my skin.

But then he pulled away. “Marli, how many layers are you wearing?”

“Oh! I have a surprise! Turn around.”

I slipped out of the skirt and yanked off the sweater. Knowing the bulkiness of the clogs would ruin the effect of the outfit, I opted to go barefoot and sunk my toes in the cool ground.

“Okay. You’ll need to turn on your flashlight. I don’t think there’s enough light.”

When he did, his eyes widened. “What…? Why…? How…?”

I twirled like a whimsical firefly, dancing in the light. “What do you think?”

“I knew you had a nice bod, but wow!”

I twirled again.

He reached out. “Come here, beautiful.” His voice was husky and coarse.

Once in his arms, he ran his hands over my arms, down to my hips, turning me around and around as he studied my new appearance. “Wow.” He whispered now. “I mean, you’re beautiful no matter what, but you look really good. Hmmm…mmm.”

I literally blossomed, felt myself awakening like a dormant, closed flower that had waited years to bloom. How did Nate manage to eliminate the weight of every bad thing that happened to me…that happened in my life, past and present?

I didn’t know how he did it, but I prayed I did the same for him.

I RESTED MY forehead against the cold metal of my locker, feeling miles and miles away from the amazing place I had been this morning—with Nate, in the coolest clothes to ever grace my skin, in the chilly freshness of the mountain air. Now I was back in a long skirt and ill-fitting shirt, the hem falling down to my hips. My shoes added another two pounds to the already heavy clothing.

Edna, as if sensing something had changed in the night, had followed me around the house spewing insults over my hair.

The ugliest shade I’ve ever seen!

Makes you look like a harlot!

We should shave your head and free you from the burden of your mother’s kin!

Charles, for his part, had me locked in his unblinking glare and did not release me from it until I slid out of the truck and hurried into the school.

Had the morning with Nate even happened?

The locker’s metal had long since warmed under my skin but still I didn’t move. As the warning bell clanged overhead, I sighed. When I finally stood straight, Heather was standing there watching me.

“Oh, hi,” I stammered.

“Do you like the clothes?”

My gaze darted. Would she try to use the clothes to embarrass me now? Call out to the others that the church-girl had accepted her hand-me-downs?

As if sensing where my thoughts were going, Heather huffed. “Look. I’m not going to embarrass you. I just want to know if you like the clothes.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

She watched a group of students huddled together at the end of the hall. “I don’t know. I feel bad for you, I guess.”

“Why?”

“I tried to put myself in your shoes. Believe it or not, I’m not a mean person.”

“I know that.”

Shock spread across her face as if she were surprised I could think that. I was a little shocked myself.

“It’s not always easy being the popular girl.”

“But your life seems so perfect.”

Heather snorted and shoved her hands into her designer jeans’ pockets, jeans not too dissimilar from the ones she’d given me. “I have to be perfect all the time but that doesn’t mean life is perfect.”

“Why do you have to be perfect all the time?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “You’d never understand.”

“Oh, I bet I would. I have to be the perfect Christian daughter all the time. One slipup and there is no telling what would be done to me. My grandmother has slapped me, pinched me, forced me to clean the church from top to bottom, locked me inside it overnight with no lights. And that’s only for little offenses. If I did something really bad? Who knows? She’d probably drown me in the river trying to wash away my sins.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. I have to keep a side of myself locked away because the consequences…” I shuddered.

Heather studied me for several moments until I started to fidget, never comfortable under scrutiny even though I had been scrutinized my entire life. “Can you not wear the clothes?”

“I can’t be seen wearing them. But…” I closed my eyes, reliving the feel of them against my skin. “I love them. I put them on when no one is around.” I didn’t tell Heather about Nate or the morning hike. Some things were better kept secret, as if that made them sacred. “I have them hidden in my room.”

Heather’s gaze shifted again as the tardy bell rang. “Well, I gotta go. Good luck…you know. With everything.” She walked away.

There was more to this popular girl than met the eye. If only the other students could see the same in me. I sighed, a heavy, weighted sound, and made it to class as the teacher was starting the lecture.

CHARLES WAS QUIET during the ascent up the mountain, his hands clutching the steering wheel like it might roll away. His skin was paler than usual, the pink of his lips faded to a purplish white.

Outside our home, he threw the gear shift into park. “Get inside the house.”

“Yes, sir.” I scrambled out of the truck.

Charles started toward the path that led to the church, the black box tucked under his arm.

Edna stood on the porch wearing a black dress that made her arms and legs and torso seem overly long like she’d been stretched at all angles. She was an ugly contrast against the blooming wildflowers that popped up in the grass.

“Put on your funeral attire.”

My knees locked. “Did someone die?”

“No. When you’ve changed your clothes, come into the kitchen.”

I didn’t like the sound of her tone. I was to dress for a funeral but there was no funeral. I was to meet her in the kitchen but it was too early for dinner. The vibe she was giving off was more sinister than a haunted ghoul’s on All Hallows’ Eve. What was going on here?

Now that I thought about it, Charles had been wearing his funeral clothes, too.

Agitated, I hurried into my room. Something bad was about to happen, brewing on the horizon like an oncoming storm. To say I could feel it in my bones was an understatement. I could feel it in my soul.

Outside, dark clouds were flying low across the sky like they were running from something terrifying, oncoming like a rabid monster. In the distance there was a crackle of thunder. It was spring and storms were common, but there was something different about today.

I needed to be careful. Very careful.

The best thing for me to do was get dressed, keep my head down and my mouth shut.

Don’t draw attention. Be the preacher’s daughter they want me to be.

I slipped into my one black dress, the sleeves falling past my wrists, the hem to my ankles. I braided my hair down my back to give Edna no cause to complain, and brushed my teeth. Steeling myself for whatever was to come, I walked into the kitchen.

Edna stood by the sink, her shoulders rigid. “Sit down.”

In the middle of the floor was a chair, sitting alone like a solitary soldier awaiting orders. There was no part of me that wanted to sit on that soldier. The pinch to my arm, fast and sharp, changed my mind, though, and I fell onto the hard surface.

Edna fumbled around on the counter behind me. I turned to see what she was doing only to find her putting on clear plastic gloves to protect her hands from whatever pungent-smelling mixture she was stirring in a plastic bowl. To the side of the sink sat a box with a woman on the front, her hair oil-black, shiny and clean.

Edna was going to dye my hair.

“Grandmother, wait!” I shot out of the chair, but Edna’s bony hand clutched my shoulder so hard I cried out. “That hurts!”

“Sit down.”

“You can’t dye my hair! I’ve braided it. It looks respectable!”

“Shameless harlot. Just like your mother.” She shoved me down in the chair with the strength of a gladiator and leaned into my face. “That hair makes you too much like your mother. We get rid of it, we’ll get rid of her evil influence.”

Get rid of it? Was she going to cut it too? My back broke out in a cold sweat.

“If you move, I’ll cut you.”

I went rigid, like someone had paralyzed me with a stun gun, my insides screaming as Edna came at me with a long pair of scissors. She grabbed handfuls of my hair and yanked it straight, then she cut and cut and cut. Long orange wisps floated to the ground like little helicopters.

Tears poured over my cheeks.

She can’t hurt me.

She can’t hurt me.

She can’t hurt me.

This chant replayed over and over as Edna poured black hair dye all over my red hair.

Forty-five minutes later, the dye was washed out, and when I looked at my reflection in the faucet, I saw zero trace of orange, only black—as black as an oil slick, matching the color of my dress and the inside of my heart perfectly. It was an odd thing, to no longer resemble someone I knew…knew myself to be. My fingers shook as I reached up to touch the leftover strands. The length was also gone, now falling only to my chin.

Edna walked to the kitchen door. “Clean up then meet me outside. There is a punishing tonight and we can’t be late.”

A punishing?

Numb, I swept the floor, put the chair back under the table, and avoided every possible reflective surface. Then I met Edna on the porch. The congregation was filing up the mountain trail toward the church like ants, all dressed in black, all doing exactly what they were told to do.

Leading the string of congregants were Mrs. and Mr. Lowe with Mary held between them like a prisoner being led to the guillotine. She was the only one in the entire group who wasn’t wearing black. Instead, she wore white from head to toe with a short veil flowing over her hair. Her face was pale, like someone had taken a brush to it, covering every inch with paint. The white dress only added to the severity of her skin color.

I clutched the porch railing, oblivious to the splinters that pricked my palms. I tried to catch Polly’s eye as the group drew closer, but she passed in front of the house and veered straight toward the church like she was in a trance.

A huge lump sprouted in my throat with such force I started to choke, bursting out into a violent cough.

Bringing up the tail end of the congregation was the Stone family, their hands folded in prayer. Mr. Stone’s lips moved and his eyes were lifted toward the church. Mrs. Stone followed behind. When she saw me, her lips spread wide, reminding me of a demonic clown. Clearly, she preferred my hair lobbed off and dyed black.

I felt sick.

When Josiah saw me, his eyes widened and his lips formed a stunned O, then his expression fell into something akin to sadness. He didn’t wave or smile. His head toppled forward, like he couldn’t bear to hold it upright.

With a dark, aching, sorrowful heart, I fell into step with the congregation and followed Edna to the top of the mountain.