by Robin Palmer
“I think it’s neat,” said Sammi.
I gave her a grateful smile. Maybe there was hope for this to work out. Having only two out of three of my stepsisters hate me wouldn’t be that bad.
“You would,” said Kayley. “You don’t have any taste.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Lana said sternly, before turning to the saleswoman. “Can you check to see if you have all these in the girls’ sizes?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’d be more than happy to.”
“How come she looks like she just sucked on a lemon?” Sammi asked as the saleswoman click-clacked away.
“I know, right? Maybe her hair’s pulled too tight,” I said.
She giggled.
This was great! The two of us were on our way to having our own private jokes!
I was still walking on air a few minutes later as we made our way to the dressing rooms. The dresses were already hanging on hooks, and in each dressing room there was a pink slipcovered chair that looked so comfortable it made me want to take a nap. Instead I placed my tote bag down and, after making sure the door was locked, took out my drink to take a sip.
“Girls?” I heard Lana call from outside the room.
Good thing I had locked the door. “Mmm-hmmm,” I replied, my mouth full of Frappuccino.
“I want you to try on the turquoise dress first and come out so we can look at them all together,” she said.
“Why do we have to start with one of her choices?” Cassie demanded from the room next to mine.
“Yeah,” Kayley echoed. Even though there were enough dressing rooms that we all could have had our own, the two of them had decided to share one. It was definitely big enough.
There was so little space at the bottom of the partition that there was no way either of them would be able to peek through, but I was still nervous they’d see my drink, so I quickly put it back in my bag on the chair and closed the snap. As I got undressed, I got a little sad listening to the two of them joking around together. As jerky as they had been to me so far, I kept hoping that something would make them stop hating me and we’d all get along.
I got out my iPhone and took a picture of the dresses and texted it to Lexi.
this would be so much more fun if u were here, I wrote.
OMG THAT IS SOOOOOO BEAUTIFUL!!!! ARE YOU HAVING THE BEST TIME???? she wrote back almost immediately.
I wished I was one of those people who could lie about how she was feeling, but I wasn’t. not really, I replied. i’m actually kind of lonely
UGH. THE BB’S ARE AT IT AGAIN????
yeah. k gotta go. luv ya.
LUV YA 222222222 XOXOXOXOXO
Lexi’s Xs and Os made me smile. We might not have been related, but I felt like we were sisters. At least I’d always have her. Mom liked to say that friends were the family you got to choose.
As soon as I put the dress on, I could see that my talent for finding great stuff had struck again. Not only was it supersoft against my skin because it was silk, but it fell in such a way that it made me look like I had boobs even though I was flat as a pancake. There was something to be said for expensive stuff. As I looked at myself in the three-way mirror, I felt like a character in a Disney sitcom after she gets made over. Which was fun.
Or would have been fun, if I’d had someone to share it with.
I took my Frappuccino out of my bag and sipped at it. I could see how being a bridesmaid and helping to plan a wedding could be a great time, but not if it was going to keep being like this—where all my ideas were shot down, and the BBs made it clear whenever they could that, no matter what, I’d always be their stepsister versus their real sister.
“Are you girls ready?” Lana called from outside the dressing room. “Come show us.”
I opened my dressing room at the same time as Cassie and Kayley. “Wow. Those look great on you two,” I said. Kayley leaned forward. “Is that a Frappuccino in your bag?” she said loudly.
I turned to look. How could I have been so dumb and not fastened the snap?! Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to throw that out.”
“I know. I just . . . ,” I sputtered nervously. “I get really thirsty when I shop . . . .”
As the two of them stared at me, I knew that no matter what excuse I came up with, I was still busted. “Please don’t tell your mom,” I begged. The last thing I needed was for Lana to think I was a liar and a sneak. Which, essentially, I was by having done this.
“What’s in it for us?” Cassie demanded.
“Whatever you want,” I said quickly. The minute the words left my mouth, I cringed. What was I getting myself into?!
Sammi came out of her room. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
Before they could tell her, Lana called for us again. “We’ll think about it and get back to you,” Cassie replied.
“You’ll think about what?” Sammi asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kayley told her.
As we modeled the dress for Lana, I felt like I was going to throw up. It would be horrible if they told her about the drink, but knowing I was about to be blackmailed was even worse.
“I like it a lot,” Lana said as we stood in front of her. “Let me—”
“Okay, great,” I said quickly as I spun around to go back to the dressing room.
“Wait a minute. Let me see the back,” she went on.
I stopped quickly so Lana could examine the back. “This is the back. It’s a nice back, don’t you think?” I babbled. I picked up the skirt and kept on going into the dressing room. “Okay, I’m going to go change now!”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see she was confused. Every time I went back to the dressing room, I checked my bag to make sure the drink was still there. I would’ve thrown it out, but there were no garbage cans to be seen. I wondered what you were supposed to do if you wanted to spit out your gum. But I guess if they didn’t want you bringing drinks into a place like this, they probably didn’t like gumchewers either.
I did feel a little better once I put the fuchsia dress on. It was beautiful. Superbright, but not obnoxiously so. And I already knew exactly what necklace I’d wear with it if we chose this one: a choker made of silver beads with a white quartz gardenia in the middle that I had made last year and always got a ton of compliments on. Not that we’d end up getting it—I was sure Cassie would have a bunch of reasons why she hated it.
“Ready?” Lana called out.
When I opened my dressing room door, Cassie and Kayley were already out in the hall. I waited for some comment about the dress, but they just ignored me. After making sure my door was closed tightly, so no one could go through my stuff, I joined them outside where Lana and the saleslady were waiting.
Holding my breath, I waited for Lana’s response as she watched us model it.
“Well, it’s definitely . . . colorful,” she finally said.
It was. That’s why it was so great. But I couldn’t tell if she thought that was a good thing.
Finally she smiled. “I love it.”
I exhaled. Score one for me! For a second I even forgot that I was about to be blackmailed.
She turned to the other girls. “What do you guys think?”
“I love it,” Sammi said.
“I like it too,” Kayley agreed.
Score two more for me!
We all looked over at Cassie.
She sighed. “Well, it’s not horrible.”
Score ten for me.
“Okay, then. I think we have our decision,” Lana said. She turned to me. “Good job, Avery.” She came over and grabbed the bottom of my hem. “I think it might be a touch too long on you and Sammi, though.”
“I’ll get the seamstress,” the saleslady said as she click-clacked away.
I turned to Cassie. “I’m really glad you like the dress,” I said shyly. “It looks great on you.” It was probably stupid of me to keep trying with her, but I couldn’t
help it. The idea of having to go through not only this wedding planning with things the way they were with us, but then an entire lifetime after that, was enough to make me suck it up a bit longer in hopes she’d start being nice. Plus, maybe the blackmail wouldn’t be so horrible.
“Well, it’s a lot nicer on than it looks on the hanger,” she said begrudgingly.
Before I could say anything else, the seamstress was there and turned me around so she could start pinning the hem.
Lana turned to the BBs. “Go get changed,” she said.
After the seamstress was done, I walked back to the dressing room as carefully as possible in order to avoid getting jabbed in the legs. I felt great—better than I had since we had gotten here.
Until I saw that my dressing room door was open.
At that, my stomach started to do flips.
And then—after I got inside—it started to do flops as well.
The drink was still in my bag, but it was turned over on its side. Which meant that what was left of the now-melted Frappuccino—and there was a bunch left—was dripping out ALL OVER THE DRESSES THAT I HAD HUNG OVER THE CHAIR. I grabbed my own clothes and tried to do some damage control by mopping at the dresses in hopes of stopping the stains from getting bigger than they already were. “OH MY GOD . . . HOW DID THIS HAPPEN . . . I DIDN’T . . . ,” I babbled wildly as I mopped away.
How had I knocked my bag over before I left?! I’d been so careful . . . .
Or had someone else come into the room and knocked the bag over on purpose while I was getting my dress hemmed?!
I guess I was pretty loud, because Lana and the saleswoman came running in.
“What’s the matter?” the saleswoman cried. “Did someone rip one of the dresses?” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the now-empty cup. “Is that a . . . coffee beverage?” she demanded.
Everyone looked at me. “Um, yeah,” I said nervously. “It is.” The last of the gooey mess dripped onto the floor. “I mean, it was.”
By this time a bunch of the other salespeople had gathered to see what the commotion was about. From the looks on their faces, you would have thought they were looking at roadkill rather than a spilled drink.
I looked over at the BBs. While it was obvious from the expression on Sammi’s face that she felt bad for me, it was hard to tell what the other two were thinking. Although I could have sworn that there was a hint of a smirk on Kayley’s face.
“I’m really, really sorry,” I said. “But I’d just like to add that there was no sign saying that drinks aren’t allowed—”
“That’s because it would be self-explanatory to the type of clientele that we have in our store,” the saleslady sniffed.
As I stood there praying for the floor to open and swallow me up, Lana examined the damage. I could see from the way she cringed that my hope that she wouldn’t think it was that big of a deal was wishful thinking. “How did this happen, Avery?” she asked quietly.
The fact that she was calm rather than yelling at me made me feel even worse. “I don’t know!” I cried. “I know you told me to get rid of the drinks . . . and I did . . . I mean, I got rid of four of them . . . .” I cringed. This was not going well. “I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal if I held on to mine . . . it was sitting upright before we went out to show you the dress. And then I wasn’t here while I was getting my dress hemmed.”
“What are you saying?” Cassie demanded. “That one of us went into your room and knocked it over on purpose?”
We stared at each other for a second. That was exactly what I was saying. Without actually saying it.
“No,” I finally replied, my shoulders slumping. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t accuse her in front of Lana. If I did, any chance of us getting along would be gone for good.
We had drawn quite the crowd by then, and I could see that Lana was getting more embarrassed by the second. “Well, regardless of how it happened, it needs to be taken care of,” she said. She turned to a woman who was standing at the front. “I’m assuming you’re the manager?”
The woman was so horrified her mouth made a little O as she nodded.
Lana rummaged in her purse for her wallet and took out a credit card. “If you could just charge the dry-cleaning bills for these dresses to this card, that would be great,” she said as she held it toward the manager. She swallowed. “And of course we’ll also be taking the four dresses we already picked out.”
The manager grabbed the card and stormed off without a word.
“Lana, I’m so sorry,” I whispered as my eyes started to sting with tears. “I really don’t know how that happened.”
“It’s okay, Avery,” she replied in a tight voice, making it seem like it was very far from okay.
“I can pay for the damage with my allowance,” I offered. My allowance from, like, the next fifty years.
She put up her hand. “Let me just deal with this so we can get out of here.”
“Okay,” I mumbled.
But it wasn’t okay.
None of it was.
Six
I think my dad felt really bad about our last car ride, because he went out of his way to ask if we could spend time together, just the two of us. Unfortunately, it was the day after Operation Frappuccino Fail.
I was so embarrassed about the whole thing that when he asked if I wanted to go for pizza, which was my favorite food in the entire world, I just shrugged and said, “I don’t care,” because I had no appetite at all. And I always had an appetite—especially when it came to pizza.
Because my grandmother called my dad during the drive over with a million questions about the wedding (“How many people are you inviting?” “Who are you seating us with?” “What are you serving as an entrée? I hope it’s not steak, because they usually only cook it medium and I like mine medium well.” “You remember that your father is allergic to shellfish, don’t you?”), I was saved from a conversation about what had happened at the mall. And then, when we sat down in a booth at Pizzeria Pagano and ordered a large ham and pineapple (it turned out that it was both of our favorite pizza, so it must be hereditary), Lana called to say that the power had gone out, so he had to stay on the phone with her as she went to the fuse box. By the time she had gotten the power back on and they hung up, I was already on my second slice (apparently, my appetite had come back) and was hoping that maybe if I ate fast enough, I could get through dinner without having to talk about what had happened.
“Sorry about that,” my dad said as he reached for a slice.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “If you want to call her back to make sure the power didn’t go out again, I totally understand.”
He gave me a strange look.
“Because sometimes it goes out again right away.” I had no idea whether or not that was true, but it sounded like maybe it could have been.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” he said as he pushed his phone away. “So. Let’s talk about—”
“Isn’t the pizza here good?” I interrupted.
“Yes. Very,” he said.
“Mom and I like it the best out of all the Italian restaurants in town,” I went on. That was saying a lot, because there were a ton of them.
“That’s great. Now, about yesterday . . . ,” he said before I could steer the conversation in another direction again.
I slumped down in my seat. “Yeah?”
“Let’s talk about what happened at Saks.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” I cried. “I only bought the drinks because I wanted them to like me, and then they acted like I was stupid for doing so, and I swear I checked the top on the cup before I left the room, so there’s no way it could have tipped over!”
“So you’re saying that one of the girls went into the dressing room and intentionally knocked your drink over.”
I stared at him. “I didn’t say that,” I finally said. At least not out loud.
He tore off a little bit of the crust on his slice, which was exactly
how I ate my pizza too. “Lana said that you were really upset about what happened.”
“Well, yeah! Wouldn’t you be if everyone accused you of ruining a bunch of really expensive dresses?”
“Did someone accuse you of doing that?” he asked gently.
I looked away. “Not, you know, to my face,” I admitted. “But I know they were thinking that.”
“Avery, I know that the girls can be a little . . . slow to warm up.”
Warm up? It was like using a hair dryer on an iceberg.
“But you have to remember, this is just as tough for them . . . ,” he went on.
“How?” I asked. “There’s three of them, and they’re already sisters, and have private jokes and really nice clothes.”
He tipped his head down to look at the denim overalls that Mom had sewn into a jumper for me using fabric from one of her old Indian caftans that had fallen apart because it had been washed so much. Underneath it I was wearing a pink tank that I had painted a blue jay on. (Last year had been my “bird phase,” as Mom called it, where I painted different birds all the time.) “From what I’m looking at, you have really nice clothes too.”
“But none of this is new,” I replied. “And when I told Cassie that I liked to get stuff at garage sales, she wrinkled her nose as if I had said I got my food out of garbage cans.”
“You just have to give all of this time. We all do.”
I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it.
“What is it, Avery?”
I sighed. “I just wish I was one of those people who knew how to be someone else, but I don’t. I’d probably be really popular if I could do that.”
“But why would you want to be someone else when who you are is already pretty great?” he asked.
I looked at him, surprised. Okay, I was not expecting my dad to say that. I mean, he barely knew me.
“Avery, sometimes when we’re afraid, we need to act as if.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it means we need to act as if we believe something’s going to work out and as if there’s nothing about ourselves we need to change, because who we are is already enough.”