Page 56 of Snake

I turn and huff a lock of hair out of my face as I hold out the hair dryer. “You two must give your mother gray hair.”

Mariella sniffs. “So? She already dyes it.”

* * *

I’m barely done drying Mariella’s hair when Sissa returns. Her hair is wrapped up, and she’s got another towel around her rake-thin body. She stands, arms akimbo, and glares at us in the reflection of Mariella’s dressing room mirror.

“I’m done.”

“Yes, I can see that,” I tell her dryly as I release the last section of Mariella’s hair. “Now how about you comb out your hair first?”

“Why do I have to?” Sissa pouts. “He always does it for me.”

I assume this is her father she’s talking about now. Is he the one they call a douchecanoe? I frown at her. “How old are you?”

Sissa averts her eyes and sticks out her hip. “Whatever,” she mutters, but Mariella supplies a very smug, “Only twelve.”

I ignore her as I dry the last section of Mariella’s hair. Sissa watches us for a second, throws her head back, and then stomps over to grab the detangling brush. It’s like she’s racing us so I’ll have to stop what I’m doing and help her instead.

But she loses interest halfway through and goes over to Mariella’s closet doors, studying the two dresses hanging up there. The one’s a green gown with spaghetti straps, which I’m sure will look absolutelygorgeousagainst Mariella’s flawless skin. The other is a backless red beaded gown, definitely too mature for her with its clinging sweetheart neckline, although the flaring skirt will look amazing when she dances.

I guess she couldn’t decide what to wear either.

Sissa studies one dress, then the other. As soon as I switch the hair dryer off, she announces, “Red isn’t your color.”

Mariella rolls her eyes again, studying her hair in the mirror as she reaches for her curling iron. “That’s not my dress.”

“Then whose is it?” Sissa plucks at the crystal-studded bodice.

“I dunno. It got delivered here yesterday. Probably his date’s.”

“Who’s he going with? A Galanti? A Bailey?” Sissa narrows her eyes when she turns to glance at me, still fingering the bodice. “It’ll look nice on you.”

I don’t know why a compliment from a kid makes my cheeks go pink. “Are you ready?”

Sissa nods enthusiastically as she hurries over. Mariella doesn’t move. “I’m still busy.”

“Mariella!”

“Go to your own room.”

“But I want to get ready here.”

“I’m. Still. Busy!”The last is a shriek that I’m pretty sure the neighbors two miles away heard.

There’s a tense moment, and then Sissa lunges at Mariella. I barely wedge myself between them before the two can start trading slaps. “Hey!”

In that moment of silence, a car pulls up in the driveway, gravel crunching under its tires.

“Yay!” Both girls scream, their violent hostility toward each other suddenly forgotten. They bolt for the door and disappear down the hallway, leaving me behind with a startled expression.

Dear God, don’t let me ever have girls.

I’m about to follow them out when my eye catches on the red dress. Or, should I say, the sparkling bodice catches my eye. I hesitate and then sneak over to study it closer.

It’s fucking stunning. The fabric is delicate and satiny. The crystals aren’t just haphazardly placed on the bodice either—they form swirling shapes. Two flow up and over the breasts, and a third pools near the midriff. They almost look like...

Snakes.

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