The Rest of the Story(49)

“Then I bet number million and one is the charm.” He glanced at his watch, then added, “No pressure, but it kind of has to be. I’m supposed to be in the Yum truck doing the motel circuit by one at the latest.”

I walked back into the dressing room. “You know what would save us lots of time?” I yelled over the door. “If you drove back.”

“About as likely as someone not thinking that’s a cape,” he said. “Nice try, though.”

Standing there alone, in front of yet another mirror, I smiled at my reflection. Normally, two hours of shopping for anything would try my patience to a point of rage. This outing, however, had been different. It was actually fun.

First, there was the ride over, during which I got to relax in the passenger seat as Roo drove, entertaining me with stories about his interactions with the residents of Park Palms, the nursing home where he worked the night shift. Then, our arrival at Bly Corners, which was less a mall than three stores and a food court surrounded by a huge parking lot in which we were one of only four cars. I counted.

“Is this place even open?” I asked as he pulled right up to the main entrance, taking one of many empty spaces.

“Careful with the judgment, Big City,” he replied. “For Delaney, this is mobbed.”

As we got out of the car, the only sound was Roo shutting his door and, I kid you not, a pigeon I could hear cooing from atop a nearby light pole. “Seriously, how do they even stay open if no one comes here?”

“Selling overpriced dresses to desperate out-of-towners,” he replied. “Now, watch your purse. Pickpockets thrive in crowded places.”

I laughed as we walked to the main entrance, where he pulled the door open for me. Nice, I thought again. This time, I heard it in my own voice, not Hannah’s.

Our first stop was TOGS!, a narrow store blasting loud music where everything was neon and priced at twenty-five bucks or less.

“NO!” Roo said when I presented him with the only thing I’d even slightly liked, a royal-blue dress with a pink ruffle underneath. “You look radioactive. Next.”

That was Claudia’s Closet, a women’s boutique that specialized in flowing, loose-waisted clothing for women of a certain age that was not seventeen. Still, I tried on a maroon dress with a full skirt that swished when I walked.

“Might look good with a high wind,” Roo observed when I emerged from the fitting room. “But we can’t count on that. Let’s move on.”

We had, to Douglas Arthur, the department store, where we’d been ever since. Everything was fun and games until you were out of time, though. And we almost were.

“All that is left is the green-and-white one,” I reported, again over the door. “With the halter neck.”

“You know how I feel about that,” he said. “I told you when you picked it out.”

“What did you say, again? That it makes me look like I’m—”

“Being strangled,” he finished. “So that’s a no. Try this.”

I stepped back, startled, as a dress was flung over the top of the door, its hanger clanking. The top had thin, gauzy straps, the skirt ending in a series of layers, all of it a pale rose color.

“Pink?” I said.

“Don’t be gender biased. Just try it.”

I slipped out of the black one, then pulled the dress down, removing it from the hanger. Looking at it up close, I had more doubts: it was so simple as to be almost plain, the fabric delicate and thin.

“I don’t think this is me,” I said. “How strongly are you opposed to the cape?”

“I’m not answering that,” he replied. “Put it on.”

I did, turning my back to the mirror as I slid it over my head, easing the straps over my shoulders. When I looked down, all I saw was pink.

“This is a no,” I reported.

“But we haven’t seen it yet!” the salesgirl said. “And he picked it out himself!”

I sighed. At this point I’d leave with nothing to wear and Roo would have himself an actual girlfriend, not just a pretend one. Oh, well, I thought, and opened the door.

He was standing right outside, the salesgirl a few feet behind him, a grin on his face. When he saw me, however, he immediately stopped smiling.

I looked down at myself. Was there a cutout I had missed, exposing me? Could the entire thing be not just thin and delicate, but transparent?

A quick, panicked check confirmed neither of these was the case. But he was still staring at me. “What?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest anyway. “What’s wrong with it?”

He blinked at me. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s—”

“Perfect,” the salesgirl sighed. “You look incredible.”

I did? I turned, facing the mirror on the dressing room door to see for myself. And while I wouldn’t have said perfect—nothing was, in clothing or otherwise—I did have to admit that it worked. The color, which warmed up my skin and the beginnings of a tan I’d gotten since I’d been here. The cut, which emphasized my waist and made me look tall, even in bare feet. But there was something else, too, that had nothing to do with the dress itself. Roo had seen something in it, and recognized a part of me that matched. How could someone know you better than you knew yourself? Especially if they really didn’t know you, not at all.