Free Split Just Right by Adele Griffin

asks abruptly.
    “I haven’t thought about it. What’re you guys wearing?” I counter.
    “Je ne sais pas,” Hannah says in a dumb-sounding southern drawl, rolling through all her vowels. “That’s me being Dr. Sonenshine,” she says, laughing. It’s just the kind of Hannah joke I don’t like, but I smile. Hannah has a way of making you join in on unfunny jokes.
    “I don’t know what I’m wearing,” Lacy says, and then she looks at me in a friendly, thoughtful way. She rubs a finger over her chin. “But I bet you and I are about the same size. Hey, you know what, Danny?” She leans against the table and tilts her head as she studies me. “If you want, you can come over sometime tomorrow and look through my stuff. Most of my semiformal dresses I’ve only worn once; you know how my mom’s such a shopaholic. Maybe you could borrow?”
    “My mom’s taking me shopping,” I tell her. My voice feels glue thick. A setup. They’ve been talking about me, maybe even to Ty. About how I might not have the right dress for the Spring Fling.
    “Too bad Portia’s so teeny-tiny,” Hannah says with a little giggle. “She has great clothes.”
    “Portia doesn’t need to lend me an outfit. My mom and I are going shopping. For something new,” I explain.
    “If she has time, though. Doesn’t she work a lot now, like, I know she has that new waitressing job?” Lacy doesn’t wait for me to answer; she just plows ahead and I recognize a script when I hear it. “Hey, I might have an idea. My mom has credit over at Pagniti Marcello, since she returned all her birthday gifts. I know!” Lacy squeals and seizes my wrist. “We’ll all go pick out something together: you, me, Mom, and Wilder.” She smiles at Hannah. “And we’ll get lunch at the club after. It’ll be fun!”
    My mind is reeling, planning my next move. If I get up from this table and walk out the door, I think, that gives them more than ten seconds of looking at my stupid zip boots and runny stockings. But if I keep sitting here, my face will just get redder, and worse, I might cry.
    “You guys are really nice,” I say carefully. “But my mom would be kind of disappointed if she thought I’d rather wear someone’s hand-me-down than something new she wants to buy me.”
    “Oh my god, Danny, we are totally not saying that it’s charity.” Hannah’s pretend worried face is enough to make me want to slap her.
    “I’m going shopping with my mom, okay?”
    “Did she help you pick out those boots?” Hannah says it light enough so that maybe, if you paid a fancy lawyer enough money he could argue that it was meant only as kidding, but that’s when I feel the tears behind my eyes.
    “Oh, uh, no,” I say with a laugh. “I actually got these at a thrift shop up in New York, in Manhattan.” I stand up and look down at them, like I just at that moment noticed how awful they were. “Anyhow, I’m late for my math tutorial. I’ll see you guys later.”
    I walk out of the library, my huge boot zippers jangling with every step, but I’m careful not to slam the door so they don’t know how much they’ve upset me.
    Once I’m safely in the faculty bathroom (which you can lock), splashing water on my face and rubbing my hands over my chest splotches to calm them down, I let the tears come. The crying feels good, as if all of my doubts and problems, like these stupid boots, and Mom’s job, and whether I’m going to find the right dress to wear to Fling, and wondering if Ty’s going to call me tonight, and my crummy math grades, are all just rolling out of me, collecting into a big river of sludge.
    I try for a smile, to reassure myself. The person in the mirror smiles back at me, but not with the carefree Rick Finzimer smile or the dead-on, ready-to-fight eyes of my mom. The girl in the mirror doesn’t seem to be much of anyone, except a gigantic mess with a blotchy chest and puffy eyes and a pair of hideous boots on her feet.

CHAPTER 6
S HE HAD