Annie
I turn to the side and check out my reflection. Disaster.
I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with clothes. I can’t seem to find a style that’s all my own, and I hate the feeling of pretending to be someone I’m not. The best I’ve done here is my all-black angry-teenager look—a look that pretty much summed up how I felt at the beginning of the year, when I was mourning my old life. But those clothes feel wrong now. Like they’re not a reflection of me anymore.
Which is why I’m standing here in the only nonblack outfit I own that still fits—a rather tragic floral skirt and matching sweater. I look like something out of the preteen fashion section of a Target flyer.
I’m fighting back tears and contemplating skipping Larissa’s party when Sophie materializes in my doorway. “Martin says be ready in twenty minutes.” Her eyes barely touch on me as she delivers the message.
The minute she steps out of the doorway, I realize that I need her. “Sophie?”
There’s a long pause before her face reappears, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Ye-es?”
“Can you . . . help me?”
“Help you do what, exactly?”
I almost tell her to forget it. Sophie and I will never be friends, and asking her for help is downright painful. But I have to admit that Sophie has style.
“I’m going to a party tonight, and I have no idea what to wear,” I blurt out, gesturing at my outfit and gritting my teeth against her slow smile.
“So you’re finally ready to abandon your doom-and-gloom angsty look, are you? This will be fun, giving you a makeover.” She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her head to the side. “A few questions first.”
“Okay.”
“House party or other?”
“House.”
“Grade level of host?”
“Tenth.”
“Coed?”
“Of course. Would I care about all this if it wasn’t?”
“Good point. Parents home or away?”
“Home.”
“Drag. Okay. Come with me.”
“But . . .” I gesture toward my closet.
“Listen, Annie—I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m pretty stoked you asked me for help. So, for this one night only, I’m opening my closet door to you.”
My jaw drops.
“I know. But we’re almost like sisters . . . technically. Plus, I want you to go out and have a blast so you’ll take that stick out of your ass and be human around here.”
Sophie heads off to her room, leaving me staring after her. She turns at her door and looks at her watch. “I’d hurry up if I were you.”
I race to her room, already envisioning myself in her clothes.
When my dad calls upstairs for me twenty minutes later, Sophie’s still hard at work. “Hold on, Martin,” she yells down the stairs. “I’m not done with her yet.”
“Done with . . . ”
“I’m making Annie gorgeous.”
I close my eyes, my stomach fluttering. Patience isn’t one of my dad’s best qualities. I’m expecting him to start nagging that it’s time to go, or threatening me with no ride if I don’t hurry up. He must be as shocked as I am at Sophie’s sudden friendliness, though, because he doesn’t say a word.
Sophie works her magic for almost another hour, and still, my dad stays silent.
Finally she steps back and smiles. “Turn around.”
I look up at her, and it’s suddenly hard to breathe. There’s a softness in Sophie’s eyes that reminds me of my mother. I feel dizzy, as if I’m in the present and the past at the same time. I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, terrified that I might break down in front of her. Then I turn and catch sight of myself, and all those thoughts scatter.
I can’t believe the girl in the mirror is me. I look hot. My usual heavy eyeliner and mascara are gone. With far less makeup than I normally use, Sophie’s managed to give me a natural look that makes me seem more sophisticated and less like a kid playing dress-up. She’s blown out my hair, lent me a pair of low-rise jeans that make me look at least two years older, and finished off the outfit with a black tank top that’s just this side of acceptable for parental viewing.
“Sophie,” I breathe. “You’re a miracle worker.”
“I know, right?” She laughs at the expression on my face. “It wasn’t that hard. You’re very pretty.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks. Why’s she being so nice to me?
Sophie races down the stairs ahead of me, calling for Madge and my dad to come see.
“Annie,” my dad thunders as I ease down the stairs on Sophie’s heels. “You’re gorgeous!”
Madge actually smiles at me. “You look beautiful,” she says before turning to Sophie. “I’m so proud of you, darling. Are those your clothes Annie’s wearing?”
Sophie shrugs. “I always wanted a sister to trade clothes with.”
For a moment, I have a flash of how things could be around here. Maybe if I try harder, Sophie and I could be friends. Maybe I could feel more at home here instead of always needing to be at Jessie’s house. Maybe I could have my own home.
“Let’s get going,” Dad says, jingling his car keys.
“Actually,” Sophie says, “can I drive her?”
“You want to drive Annie to her party?”
“Yeah . . . and maybe I can borrow the car to go out tonight, too?” Her hopeful eyes are on Madge now. “I’ll just be at Margot’s house. I’ll leave in time to pick up Annie from the party and get her home before her curfew.”
My dad’s smile is huge. “Well, what do you think of this, Madeleine? We’ll have the place all to ourselves.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, turning our stomachs.
“We’re out of here,” Sophie announces, snatching the keys from Dad’s hand. “You two behave while we’re gone.”
“So gross!” I squeal as we run for the car. Sophie’s cheeks are flushed and her smile is real. I feel like I’m flying.
“So where is this party?”
I give directions as we drive, settling into the seat and committing this night to memory. Sophie changes the radio station—something forbidden in
