I can’t let her do this. “No—”
“My birthday is in June,” she says, cutting me off. “Consider this your super early birthday gift to me.”
“She doesn’t need a makeover,” Dylan says. “She looks great the way she is.”
Bianca makes a face. “Says the girl who lives in ratty jeans and concert t-shirts. No wonder you two get along so well. Stevie Wonder can pick out better clothes than you idiots.”
Dylan and I exchange an exasperated glance.
“Fine,” Bianca snaps. “Don’t let me help you. But don’t come crying to me when Cole goes back to Casey after prom.”
Nerves bunch my stomach. I don’t think for one second Cole will leave me for Casey…but I hate the tiny part of my stupid brain that still feels like he might leave me for someone better.
And by better? I mean prettier and skinnier. Especially after college when he goes pro. Girls throw themselves at him already…I don’t even want to think about how much worse it will be in five years.
“One outfit,” I grit.
Bianca’s lips twist. “Three. Plus, a prom dress, a haircut, and a dye job.” She pulls her phone out of her purse. “Do you know your lens prescription offhand? I’m gonna tell my dad to bring home a few contact samples from work.”
She can’t be serious. “One outfit, no prom dress, and a trim.”
There. Compromise.
“No.” She folds her arms across her chest. “Two outfits. A prom dress that I will let you have marginal input on. A trim with some long layers for dimension, and a few face framing caramel highlights. Oh, and a trip to Sephora. That’s as low as I’m willing to go.”
I don’t think Bianca understands how bartering works.
Or maybe she does, because somehow, I find myself agreeing.
“I told you it wouldn’t fit,” I gripe as I pull the skin-tight red fabric over my hips.
Whoever made this must have given no fucks if the person wearing it would be able to breathe.
Bianca marches over to me. “You’re kidding, right? That’s exactly the way it’s supposed to fit.”
I look at the tag. “This says it’s a size six. I am not a size six.”
It seems like just yesterday a size fourteen was feeling too snug on me.
Bianca smiles as she turns me toward the mirror. “You are now.”
She takes the ponytail out of my hair and runs her fingers through my dark locks. “Dude, not to go all lesbo on you, but you’re hot.”
Holy shit.
“Wow, I look…different.”
It’s as if I walked into one of those fun-house mirror things at a carnival.
The one that lets you see what you’d look like if you were thinner and prettier.
Only this isn’t fake.
She laughs. “That’s kind of the point, silly.”
I look at Dylan. “What do you think?”
She shuffles her feet. “Honestly?”
“Of course.”
I expect nothing less from her.
“You don’t look like you. To be frank, you kind of look like you belong on the cheerleading squad.” She huffs. “This is so dumb, Sawyer. You don’t need a makeover. You’ve always been beautiful.”
For a fat girl.
On one hand, I understand what Dylan’s saying. A big reason we clicked instantly was because of our mutual disdain for girls like Casey.
We were the rejects.
And in turn…we rejected.
Because it makes you feel better to put down the superficial when you’re made to feel like you’ll never belong.
But when you get a taste of what their world is like…what acceptance feels like…
When society stops seeing you as the fat girl and they start looking at you like you’re an actual human being worthy of attention and kindness…
It’s like the sun breaking through the clouds.
The world feels a lot warmer…a lot less dark.
I turn back to the mirror. “Do they have this in green? It’s Cole’s favorite color.”
Chapter 84
Sawyer
“Oh, my goodness. Sawyer Grace,” Mama cries out. “What did you do?”
I wince. “That bad, huh?”
I let Bianca get away with a little more than originally agreed upon.
Specifically, four outfits, a prom dress—one that I really love, though—a few long layers and highlights, and a shit ton of new makeup.
Oh, and…contacts.
Which were a serious pain in the ass to put in.
She places her hand over her heart. “No. You look so beautiful.” Tears spring to her eyes as she takes a step back. “Gosh, sweetie. I am so proud of you.”
I’ve consistently made National Honor Society throughout the years, scored a 1600 on my SATs, got accepted to Duke’s Heart on a full ride, and I’m a shoo-in to be the valedictorian at graduation.
Yet this woman has never once told me she was proud of me.
Until now.
My father stops short when he sees me. “What—” Disappointment fills his brown eyes. “I see.”
I have no idea what that means.
Whatever. Us growing apart is solely on him.
Just because I lost weight doesn’t mean he lost a daughter.
Besides, he’s the one who called me fat behind my back that day.
He should be elated I took care of the problem.
“Thanks, Mama.” I glance at the clock. “Shoot. I have to go pick up Cole.” I grab my purse and the overnight bag I packed from the kitchen table. “Oh, and don’t wait up. I’m spending the night at Dylan’s.”
It’s a lie. I’m spending the night at Cole’s. However, they don’t have to know that.
Although I think my mother secretly suspects the truth.
“Have a good time at the party.” She kisses my cheek. “Be safe.”
Yup, I read that loud and clear.
Do not come home pregnant or Daddy will shoot your boyfriend.
“Bye, Daddy.”
He grumbles something under his breath before stalking off.
I trek toward the door. “Bye, Mama. Love you.”
“Love you.”
It’s all I can do not to keel over.
That’s two for two today.
First, she’s proud…now she loves me.
Taking these pills was the best thing to ever happen to me.
I’m gonna have to get more.
“What do you mean you’re out?” Oakley questions. “I just gave you twenty-five of them on Monday.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss.
We’re in the guesthouse, but it’s not like Cole or Bianca can’t randomly pop in and overhear us.
“It was a really hectic week, Oak. I had a lot of studying to do, remember? Plus, the pills don’t work as good as they used to, so I needed to take more to get a little boost.”
“Yeah, that’s called developing a tolerance. But given you’ve only been on it for a few months instead of years—and you finished all the goddamn pills I gave you already—you’re obviously taking way more than you’re supposed to.”