Free Boy Shopping by Nia Stephens Page A

Friday night, so they never got to see exactly how freaked out Kiki was an hour before Lyman was supposed to pick her up. Both of her parents were home, but they politely pretended not to notice that she was wearing a different outfit every time she marched from their huge master bathroom with its three-way mirror to the spare room where she stored clothes she didn’t often wear.
    The problem was the phrase “dress up.” It could mean anything from church clothes to black tie, and Kiki was not about to ask Lyman what he meant by it. She hadn’t contacted him since the quick IM session at school on Wednesday—she didn’t want to look too eager. She might not get out much, but she knew that too much interest was a turnoff for every guy she had ever met. She had tried on everything she owned, from the little black dress her mom had bought her for her first dressy party to a full-fledged ball gown she found in New York, and had paid a fortune for. She still had no idea what to wear.
    She was staring at three Kikis, all wearing a fragile midnight-blue silk gown from the 1930s, sprinkled with rhinestone stars, when her cell phone sang out, A friend in need is a friend indeed. A friend who’ll tease is better .
    â€œHey,” she said without checking the number. For everyone except her closest friends, the ring tone was an old Das EFX/Ice Cube song that began, “Check yourself, before you wreck yourself.”
    â€œHey,” Mark said, scaring Kiki half out of her skin. She just assumed it was the Pussycats, calling to check up on her. But Mark didn’t seem to notice that anything had changed between them. He had driven her to and from practice all week, and they had talked as usual: scheduling the scratch tracks due at RGB in mid-November, homework, how annoying Franklin was. He hadn’t mentioned taking Jasmine out again, and she hadn’t breathed a word about Lyman. “What’s up?”
    â€œOh, nothing. What’s up with you?” Kiki hoped she didn’t sound squeaky. She had a lot of talents, but lying wasn’t one of them, and her voice usually climbed half an octave when she was hiding something.
    â€œNothing much. Thinking about going to that Trip-Hop Triple Threat at the Maze. You going?”
    â€œI don’t think so.” She almost added, “I’ve got a date,” but she didn’t. She was hoping, of course, that he would be jealous. But he was more likely to say, “Congratulations.”
    â€œOh. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    â€œYeah, sure,” she answered, though she wasn’t at all sure where she was supposed to see him. Were they scheduled to be in the studio? Or maybe he just assumed that they would run into each other somewhere—Laura Keller’s party, maybe? She didn’t have time to try to figure it out—Lyman would be there in twenty minutes, and she had just discovered a moth hole in a place where it wouldn’t go unnoticed. It would be easy to fix if she had some spare rhinestones lying around, but she didn’t.
    â€œTalk to you later, Mark.” She hung up and ran back to the spare room. She threw on a silver satin ball skirt that she’d bought because it had pockets, and a silk-knit tank top in basic black. The casual top balanced the formal skirt, making it appropriate for any special occasion—that’s what Kiki told herself, anyway. She didn’t have the time for another costume change. The doorbell rang as she was carefully lining her lips, jarring her so she drew way outside the lines. She cursed, dabbed on a bit of makeup remover, and started over. She knew that her father would trap Lyman with supposedly friendly small talk for ten minutes anyway.
    When she made her way downstairs she could hear Lyman laughing at something her father had said. It was a nice laugh, low but light, and not too loud. It didn’t sound forced either, which