The audience gasped as a whole, wrenching sympathy in every single expression.
Fight or flight.
Full panic now.
Flight.
Yanking up my petticoat and the bottom half of my dress up to my waist, I ran off the stage.
A blurred Josh tried to stop me, but I ran past him toward the exit. At least I was close to home.
“Jeraline!” I heard his voice, but I didn’t stop.
I ran all the way home, nearly tripping up the stairs from the amount of fabric I held in my hands and arms. Racing inside the apartment, I let the skirt fall to the ground so that all I wore was a bodice and elastic-waisted petticoat.
Shame, terror, rage, sadness pushed down on my chest, making it difficult to take in air. I ran into my room and slammed the cutting table against the wall in anger, hearing the snaps of the metal legs as they bent in ways they weren’t supposed to.
It wasn’t enough.
I still hurt.
I threw my sewing machine off my desk, my hands shaking violently now.
I needed to stop.
I needed to breathe.
I needed to calm down.
I needed to cry.
Falling on the chair, I put my head down on the now empty desk and sobbed. Everything that had happened to me, that I had done, washed through me and came out in tears, forming small pools on the desk’s surface.
A hand on my shoulder.
I turned to see Olivia, her child’s face watching me with sympathy. “It wasn’t that bad.”
The only answer I gave was a choking sob.
She stayed like that for a while, her hand on my shoulder while I cried. “This isn’t just about the runway show, is it?”
I shook my head, my insides twisting further at everything I had experienced: my parents being killed, the gun, the attack, the echoes of gunfire. Grandma was gone.
I was alone.
But it was about the show as well. It had been my hope, my salvation, my way out. Now it was gone. “I really, really lost, didn’t I?”
Olivia tried to make me feel better. “You have no idea how they’ll judge this contest. The runway show was probably for fun or publicity.”
“Well, I gave them some good publicity,” I cried. Taking a deep breath, I slowly began to calm myself, to regain some kind of composure. “I’m losing it.” Then I thudded my head back on my desk, dramatically. “And Josh was there.”
Olivia nodded in understanding. “Everyone has a moment like that once in their life.”
“I just seem to have more of them.” My tears dried up, and I was left with an aching stillness.
Olivia stared at me with genuine concern but was apparently at a loss for words.
“What am I going to do?” I asked, knowing she couldn’t give me any answers.
She disappeared, and I was left sitting at my desk, staring at my sewing machine and broken table on the floor.
No, really.
What was I going to do?
The Hidden Corner sign loomed before me like a harbinger of the horrors to come. I didn’t want to work today. I’d have to face Josh. He’d seen me in my underwear! So did a hundred other complete strangers, but Josh?
It hurt.
A lot.
Not even the gigantic plaster book spines cheered me up this morning, because the thought of walking in there and seeing Josh’s pity for me was too much to bear.
I should just quit.
No.
I lived by myself now. I needed to pay the bills. And I needed to return Josh’s photo.
What if I got caught? That thought was more humiliating than having my skivvies displayed to an entire warehouse full of people.
I had reached the front door. Time to get this over with.
Walking in, I immediately saw Josh at the cash register.
Look away. Look away. Look away.
“Hey there.” His voice carried over the rant inside my head.
I chose to ignore him completely and hurry to the back room. Once there, I plopped my backpack in the locker and was about to take out the stolen picture of Josh when I completely chickened out and zipped my bag shut. Stuffing the backpack into the locker, I shut it. Maybe I could take it out later.
I might as well tackle the current issue full-on though, so I joined Josh behind the counter at the second register.
I felt his stare, but I didn’t look at him.
“You were great yesterday.”
Excuse me? Was that some kind of joke? I whirled to face him, to see if there was any sarcasm or teasing involved, but his eyebrows were all crinkled with concern.
Yup.
Pity.
He continued, “I think you’ll win anyway. If that girl hadn’t tripped . . .”
“Let’s not relive it, please.” That sounded harsh. But I couldn’t listen to a play-by-play of the disaster that was yesterday.
“Sorry.” Josh lowered his eyes, seemingly mortified at causing me any more pain.
“It’s okay.”
And the strangest thing happened.
The whole incident suddenly became funny.
I smiled. “At least they won’t forget me.”
Josh smiled back.
There was a giddy rush between us.
“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” Josh asked.
“What?” Was this real? Did he actually ask me that?
“Dinner. Tomorrow night?” Josh appeared hopeful.
Hopeful.
For me.
To say yes.
“I . . . uh . . . yeah, sure.” He for sure knew I liked him now. Yup.
“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Josh backed up a step, unsure.
Fix this!
“No, I’d love to.” The words rushed out.
Josh’s shoulders relaxed with what I could only describe as relief. Relief! Relief that I had said yes!
“Good. I’ll pick you up at five.” Josh smiled.
I was sure I was about to say or do something completely embarrassing that would change Josh’s whole stance on wanting to have dinner with me, but I was saved by Rachel when she arrived at the counter and said, “Jeraline, can I talk to you in the back room?”
Not ominous at all.
“Of course.” I swallowed hard.
I smiled briefly at Josh as I left the counter and followed Rachel to the back room.
Once inside, there
