Page 30 of When The Rain Falls

"I was serious about five."

Aimee

Julie throws back the curtain of the dressing room and steps out timidly. She's clutching the top of a salmon pink, sleeveless dress.

"I feel like a cupcake," she says, taking in the layers and layers of fluffy tulle fabric flowing out from her waist.

I pop a hip against the wall and cross my arms, considering my words and trying not to laugh. She kind of does look like a cupcake. But at least she looks like a cute cupcake.

"That dress," I start, "is not your color." It makes her look pale. But the real problem is that Julie's not exactly busty. There's a large gap between her body and the cups of the dress. The curtain next to Julie slides open, revealing Ruby in a purple, sequin dress. The girls size each other up and exchange comments. Ruby has the opposite problem that Julie has. Her chest is spilling over the top of her dress.

"I think this is cute." Ruby spins in a circle. She looks to me for the final verdict.

"You might want to think about something more..."How do I say this?"Subtle?" I suggest.

"Yeah. That dress makes you look desperate AF," Julie says, tugging up the bodice of her dress. Ok, Julie. Way tonotbe subtle. She slides the curtain closed in front of her, disappearing back into her dressing room with an armful of dresses.

"What if Iamdesperate?" Ruby asks. “Rocky is going to meet me at homecoming and I need this dress to work some magic.”She turns around and eyes the back of her dress in a mirror. I’m not sure what she means by magic. I laugh nervously. Mostly for her dad’s sake.

Speaking of Mr. GQ, he’s avoiding me. Every time I come outside when he’s in his yard, he immediately mumbles something and goes back into his house. The troll must feel safer in his little troll cave. The guy is totally ruining trolls for me. Because I used to think of trolls as ugly and deformed. And now I think of them as hot and muscular with gorgeous stormy grey eyes.Barf.

“Who’s Rocky?” I ask.

“Oh God,” Julie chimes in. “Don’t get her started. She’s obsessed with him.”

“I’m not obsessed! And it doesn’t matter anyway. My dad won’t let me date. Homecoming might be my only chance to kiss him. So, my dress needs to be perfect.”

"Well, if you bringthatdress home,” I scold Ruby, “your dad will murder me. Not just murder me. He’ll track down my ghost and murder that, too. Maybe try something else. Because I'm too fun to die."

Ruby rolls her eyes. "Ugh. I know. He has no chill."

"Wrong," I tell her. "He has too much chill. Chilly like an iceberg.” Except he showed me the hint of a playful side the other day. And the way the veins in his biceps popped when he was carrying that box of books...

No, Aimee! Bad girl.

“Pretty much,” Ruby says. “At least you don’t have to live with him.” Ruby disappears into her dressing room. I glance towards Julie. She's standing in front of the floor length mirror, inspecting her dress.

"It looks like I'm wearing a garbage bag," she exclaims. Poor thing. She's so skinny. Everything looks so big on her.

"Didn't a celebrity wear a dress made out of garbage bags to the Oscars last year?" I ask. "You could, you know, make a statement."

"Yeah," Ruby calls from her dressing room. "The statement would be,I've given up on life and aspire to be homeless," she says.

“Hey now,” I tease, “let’s not pick on the homeless. Maybe they’re only homeless because they slept with their landlord.” I laugh weakly.

“What?” Ruby pops her head out of the dressing room. “That happened to you?”

“Uh…maybe,” I say with a weak laugh.

“You slept with your landlord?!” Ruby’s eyes grow wide. What the hell. How is it that I’m being scolded by a fifteen-year-old? And how is it that even a fifteen-year-old recognizes this concept as a bad idea, when I clearly didn’t?

“How many people have you slept with?” Ruby asks.

I cough a little and find myself growing just a little uncomfortable. “Uh, you know, it’s really not that important.”

“Is it more than five?” Julie asks. “As long as it’s not more than five. Tessa says more than five makes you a slut.” I cough again. I guess I was a slut two times over this year. Who the hell is this Tessa lady? Because I’m coming for her.

“The number doesn’t matter,” I say. “What matters is that you shouldn’t sleep with people who have the power to evict you.”

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