On my way into school, I pass Rennie’s jeep, parked in a choice spot. I can’t help myself. I mosey up to it, crouch down beside the front tire, and unscrew the cap. I saw Pat do this once, take the air out of a tire when we got stuck in the snow. But he had a tool to do it, something to depress the little air valve. Damn.

And then I realize—my freaking stiletto. I slide one of them off and stick the heel so it sinks down inside the valve. It takes a few tries, but then I hear the hiss. It doesn’t deflate as fast as I’d like, though. More like a very slow leak. The bell for homeroom rings out, but I just get comfortable, down there on the ground. I can be late, no biggie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LILLIA

RENNIE AND I DECIDE TO SHOP FOR HOMECOMING dresses off island. I don’t tell my mom that we’re going, because I know she’ll make me bring Nadia with us. Instead I sneak my mom’s platinum card out of her wallet when she’s in the shower. It’s not like it’s stealing. She already told me I could order a dress off the Internet.

I wanted to ask Ashlin, too, but Rennie insisted it should just be the two of us.

We duck out of cheer practice early to make the five o’clock ferry. We leave Ashlin to co-lead the rest of practice with Coach Christy. Rennie tells Coach Christy that we have to help her mom with something at the gallery. Ash gave us a suspicious look but she didn’t say anything.

Regular passenger tickets for the ferry aren’t that expensive, but it’s more than a hundred dollars for a round trip with a drive-on. Rennie opens her wallet. It’s stuffed with cash, a bunch of crinkled old bills. I know she’s been saving up her hostess salary for a nice homecoming dress. She has a separate dress fund she puts money into every paycheck.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, and hand the guy some cash.

I’m sure Kat would be pissed at me for doing that, but it’s not like she’ll find out. Rennie says “Thank you” about a hundred times, which is nice of her.

We drive her Jeep onto the ferry and park on the freight deck. Most of the tourists get out of their cars and take the ride up on the upper deck, but not us. Rennie and I stay in her Jeep, listening to the radio and looking through some magazines I brought along for dress ideas. Rennie wants something tight, hopefully with sequins. I want strapless with a sweetheart neckline in white. Or maybe blush.

Nobody can walk a mall like Rennie. I get turned around easily. Even though we hardly ever come here, Rennie knows where the best stores are, and the fastest way to get from one to the next. We only have a couple of hours to find our dresses, eat something, drive back to the docks, and make it on a not-too-late ferry back to Jar Island.

The first store we hit is a bust, and the second one isn’t much better. They both have tons of sweaters and corduroys now that it’s fall, but not too many dresses. Or, at least, not ones fancy enough for Jar Island homecoming. Maybe for the underclassmen. But the senior girls always get the most dressed up. It’s basically the pre-prom.

But in the third store we have some luck, and both Rennie and I end up with our arms full of possibilities. We take dressing rooms that are side by side.

“You know that new junior girl?” Rennie asks.

I’m halfway into a dress, but I stop cold. Mary. A million thoughts race through my mind. Could Rennie have seen us talking in the hallway? Probably not, because I’m careful about that. But maybe she saw me nod at her at the football game. That would be just perfect. To have the whole Alex thing blow up in my face right when we’re finished.

I look down at the beige carpeting. Rennie’s red toenails are facing the shared wall between us.

“Who?” I say.

“I’m sure you’ve seen her, Lil. Our school’s not that big. Anyway, a bunch of the junior boys were saying that she’s sooooo hot.” The way Rennie drags out the “so,” I know she’s being sarcastic. “They’re all going to vote for her for homecoming court. But she’s not that pretty, if you ask me. Definitely not homecoming-caliber pretty. I bet her hair isn’t even really blond. I bet she dyes it.”

Even though I’m glad, obviously, that Rennie hasn’t noticed anything, I bristle at what she’s saying. Mary’s pretty. A little weird, sure. But she is pretty. And it makes me glad to know that other people, boys especially, see it too. The girl hasn’t had the easiest go of things. I still don’t know exactly what it was that Reeve did to her, but it clearly screwed her up big-time.

I hear the rustle of material as Rennie pulls a dress over her head. “Ooh! This one’s cute. You ready to model?” The door of her dressing room swings open and then closed.

I hurry up and get the dress on. I don’t even like it. The color’s not flattering on me. But I step out of the dressing room anyway.

Rennie’s standing on the box, up on her tiptoes, modeling in the three-way mirror. I see her eyes move off her reflection and onto me. “Champagne doesn’t work for you,” she announces.

“I know,” I say. I sit down in one of the overstuffed chairs near the mirror, because I suddenly don’t want to try on dresses anymore.

“This one is hot, but I don’t know.” Her voice sounds sad. “I wish I’d tried it on last.”

The dress is tight, silver and covered in sparkles. It’s exactly what Rennie said she wanted from the get-go. I swear Rennie always gets what she wants. “What are you talking about?” I say.

“Because it’s only the first one I’ve tried on, and I feel like, if I bought it, I’d be settling, you know? The first dress is never the perfect dress.”

I don’t answer her. I just look at my nails.

“Lillia!” she whines. “What do you think? Is this the one?”

I purse my lips, pretend to consider it, and then sigh, “Yeah, sure. I guess,” even though the dress does look amazing on her.

Rennie huffs, disappointed with my apathy. She looks back at the mirror and smiles again. She knows how good she looks. She doesn’t need to hear it from me. What I say, what I think, doesn’t matter to her at all.

She turns around and checks out her butt. “I guess what I should be asking is, ‘Will Reeve like it?’ His opinion matters the most, as my date.”

I sit up straight. “Wait. Aren’t we going in a big group?” That’s how it’s always been, since our freshman year. There’s no couples. No one asks anyone to go specifically with them. For prom maybe, but not homecoming. We just roll in a big group.