“Oh,” Chloe said flatly. The purple dress was gorgeous, but somehow I didn’t feel as excited anymore.
“Chloe—” I began, but she cut me short.
“Don’t,” she said. “It’s fine.”
“Chloe, wait,” I said as I hurriedly put the dresses back on their hangers and left the dressing room. “I’m Bee’s friend too—I have been since before I knew you two were a thing.”
“Whatever,” Chloe said, emerging from her dressing room. “She likes you, you know.”
“What?” I said. “We’re friends.”
“As more than friends,” Chloe said flatly.
“C’mon, Chloe,” I said, shaking my head. “She knows I’m straight.”
“I’ve had crushes on straight girls,” Chloe mumbled, her voice low enough that it was hard to hear.
“Just … no,” I said, shaking my head to dispel the thought. “We’re just friends, Chloe. And we were just hanging out. It didn’t occur to me it would hurt you at the time,” I said.
“Well, it did.” She looked so lonely all of a sudden, standing there under the fluorescent light, next to that pile of rumpled dresses. I moved toward her, wanting to hug her but unsure if she would let me, when Layla rounded the corner, hangers dangling from her hands.
“Whoa!” she cried, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the mirror, taking in the purple dress. “Spin,” she ordered, and I obliged.
“Does the cowl neck make my shoulders look too big?” I asked as I came to a stop. I gazed at my profile in the mirror, grateful to have somewhere to look other than Chloe’s hurt gaze.
“No, it minimizes the shoulders,” Layla said with an eye-roll, but she was smiling. “Honestly, it’s like starting from scratch with you two. I ought to teach a class called ‘How to Be a Girl.’” She grabbed my discarded dresses to return them, and Chloe retreated back into her dressing room.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, Layla’s words ringing in my ears. I had never been good at being a boy, and I didn’t enjoy it very much, but there were parts to it that made a certain kind of sense—when boys were angry, they showed it with their fists, and then it was done. With girls, I knew, it was different. I had hurt Chloe without even realizing it, and unlike a bruise, it would take more than a few days to go away.
24
“Happy birthday!” Layla grinned and waved from the booth she shared with Chloe a few days later.
“Thanks,” I said as I sat down next to Chloe. She offered me a small smile. We still hadn’t talked much since our fight in the dressing room, but it felt like the hurt was fading. Eventually, I hoped, there would be no sign it had been there at all.
“So how’s it feel being eighteen?” Anna asked. I froze, remembering that they didn’t know about my year off. I’d already been eighteen a year, but there was no way to explain the truth. It was strange to have such normal friendships for the first time, but still have so many secrets.
“Yeah,” Layla said. “Have you bought cigarettes yet?”
“I don’t smoke,” I said with a shrug, my stomach twisting from yet another half-truth. Smoking cigarettes on my hormones could cause fatal blood clots, but I couldn’t tell them about that either.
“Neither do I,” Layla said, waving dismissively. “It’s about the milestone. Which reminds me…” She reached under the table and brought out a small present wrapped in silvery paper.
“We all chipped in,” Anna said, practically bouncing in her seat.
“You guys!” I said, a surge of emotion overcoming me as I untied the ribbon. “You didn’t have to.”
“Did anyway,” Chloe said. I looked over at her, trying to catch her gaze. I wanted to make sure everything was back to normal after our conversation at the mall, but as always her expression was unreadable. “Happy birthday.”
I opened the box and lifted out a pair of lovely amethyst stud earrings that matched my homecoming dress perfectly, glimmering in the late-morning sun. “I love them!” I said, then added sadly, “but my ears aren’t pierced.”
“We know. We’re getting them pierced,” Anna said brightly. “We promised Grant we’d keep you busy while he got your present ready.”
“Wait, what?” I said. “What is it?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Layla steepled her fingers like a supervillain. “And trust me, it’s best if you come quietly.”
* * *
The Rebel Yell tattoo parlor was a small cube of brick sitting in a rutted gravel parking lot. As we entered, a happy little bell chimed, just barely audible over Molly Hatchet blasting at full volume.
“Hey, Riley!” Layla called. A rail-thin girl with shorn green hair and gauges in her ears crushed Layla in a hug.
“This is my cousin Riley,” Layla said, smiling, an arm around the girl’s shoulder. “She’s basically the biggest badass ever.”
“Naw,” Riley said, smiling back. She turned to face us. “So who’s today’s victim?”
“Right here,” Layla said, hooking her arm around mine. “Amanda.”
“Nice to meet you, Amanda. You’ll be with Rod today—he’ll take good care of you.” Riley yelled across the tattoo parlor and a man with a shaved head and flannel shirt came over.