“Shouldn’t she be going to that fat girl’s shop at the outlet mall?” Heather asked, pulling Sarah out of her reverie. “How’s she think she’s going to fit into anything here?”
As they watched, the woman with Angel pulled a pink dress off the rack, one with a full skirt and lots of frills around the bodice. Heather had been laughing about it only half an hour ago. Angel took the pink dress and headed for the dressing room.
“Do you believe she’s looking at party dresses?” Heather whispered. “Who’d invite her to—” Then the light dawned and she stared at Sarah. “I bet she’s going to the country club tonight,” she breathed.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Where else would she wear that dress?” Heather asked.
“Nobody else would wear it at all!” Sarah said.
But Heather was no longer listening. Instead, her eyes were following Angel as she disappeared through the curtains that hung at the door to the dressing room area, and Sarah Harmon could tell just by the look on Heather’s face that an idea was forming in her head. A moment later Heather turned back to Sarah, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Here’s what we’re going to do…” she said.
Sarah listened as Heather laid out her plan, and less than a minute after Angel had walked through the curtains, they did too.
Only one of the three dressing rooms was occupied. Holding a finger to her lips, Heather led Sarah into the one next to Angel’s.
Angel gazed despondently at the dress.
Everything about it was wrong. Even with it still on the hanger, she could tell it wasn’t going to fit, and even if it did fit, it would only make her look fatter.
“The bodice is modest, and the skirt will give you some shape,” her mother had told her when she’d found the dress a few minutes ago. Like anyone was even going to be looking at the breasts that were just barely beginning to show, and the full skirt—
She didn’t even want to think about how it would look.
And she certainly didn’t want to be here. What she wanted to do was talk to Seth. She’d hardly slept last night. Instead, she’d lain awake in bed, recalling her father’s words.
… a cat… black … with a white mark on its chest …
Of course, it wasn’t possible — her father was drunk, after all, and probably hadn’t seen a cat at all.
And yet…
She remembered the strange feeling that had come over her after she drank the watery broth left at the bottom of the kettle after it had boiled for almost two hours.
The awful knot of grief that had gripped her the moment she’d found Houdini’s body in her locker was completely gone. So completely gone, in fact, that she’d had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t going to come bounding out of nowhere to rub up against her legs and beg to have his ears scratched.
And she’d kept thinking about the strange verse that had been the recipe they’d followed when they made up the broth:
Mix lover’s blood drawn by knife/Symmer long to bring back life.
A bit of earth from loved’s grave/The blur of grief will help to save.
One fragment of it had echoed all through the long hours of the night:
… symmer long to bring back life…
When morning had finally come and she went downstairs, she’d wanted to call Seth, to tell him what her father had said, and see what he thought.
And maybe even go back out to the cabin and…
But the minute she’d picked up the phone, her father demanded to know who she was calling. And when she turned to her mother for support, her mother shook her head. “Nice girls don’t call up boys,” she’d pronounced. “Nice girls wait for boys to call them. And besides,” she added, “we’re going to go shopping this morning. We’re getting you a brand new dress for the dance tonight.”
So here she was, in a dressing room with the worst dress she’d ever seen, and her mother waiting for her to come out and model it. Knowing there was no point in trying to postpone the inevitable, Angel began taking off her jeans and sweatshirt.
She was just hanging the sweatshirt on a hook when she heard a familiar voice from the dressing room next door.
“So what are you wearing tonight?” Heather Dunne asked.
“I hate costume parties,” someone replied. It was a voice Angel didn’t recognize.
“Oh, come on,” Heather said. “It’ll be fun. Besides, if you don’t wear a costume, you’ll be the only one, and then how will you feel?”
“I’d feel like Angel Sullivan,” the other girl said. Then: “Are you sure no one told her it’s a costume dance?”
Angel felt her face begin to burn.
“Who would?” Heather said, snickering. “I mean, who even speaks to her?”
“Beth Baker,” the other girl answered.
“Oh, like he’s even going to go to the dance!” Heather said, giggling. “What would he go as? A fairy princess?”
“What are you going as?” the other girl said after the laughter died away.
“The Queen of Hearts,” Heather declared. Then: “And you could be the White Rabbit.” There was a short pause, then Heather said: “I know! Why don’t you go as Alice?”
“I love it!” the other girl said. “But where am I going to get a costume?”
“It’ll be easy,” Heather said. “I’ve already got most of it from last year, and we can just pin it to fit you instead of me! At least you won’t look as stupid as Angel Sullivan when she shows up without any costume at all!”
There was a flurry from the next stall as the girls left, and Angel barely breathed as she prayed none of them had noticed her in the store. Five minutes later, just as she was wondering if it was safe to leave the dressing room, she heard her mother’s voice.
“Angel? What’s wrong? If the dress doesn’t fit, I’m sure they have it in a larger size.”
With the dress in her hand, Angel came out of the dressing room. “It doesn’t matter if it fits or not,” she said. “It’s a costume party.”
Myra looked blank. “It’s what?”
“A costume party,” Angel repeated. “I heard Heather Dunne and some other girl talking about it. She’s going as the Queen of Hearts, and the girl she was with is going as Alice.”
Myra frowned uncertainly. “Then I suppose we’ll have to find you a costume.”
Angel shook her head. “I already have one,” she said. “And it’ll be perfect!”
Myra knew even before she and Angel walked into the house that Marty had been drinking. It wasn’t just that the leaves she’d asked him to rake while they were in town were still scattered over the lawn and the rake she had left on the front step, where he couldn’t miss it, hadn’t been moved. Those things only reinforced the dark sense of apprehension that came over her as she moved toward the front door. She had lived with Marty long enough so that she knew yesterday’s bender was still going on, and today she was certain that Angel also knew what was waiting for them inside the house. For a moment she was tempted to turn around and just walk away. She and Angel could get lunch at the drugstore and then maybe go visit Joni.