Page 28 of The Preacher's Pet

When the knock at the door comes, fifteen minutes later, I’m surprised I haven’t worn a path in the carpet, I have paced that much.

I pull the door open, and Camile grins at me. “Hey there,” she says.

She has a big bag in her hand, and she walks into the room. “I grabbed a few things that might fit. You’re smaller and a lot slimmer than me, but with some of these outfits it won’t really matter.”

I had texted her and asked if she’d go to the bar with me, and also if she had anything I could wear. I can’t go to the student bar in one of my handmade dresses. I’ve seen the looks I get everywhere around the college wearing them.

Mom had begged me to let her take me shopping, but I’d said no. She’d gone without me and returned with bags of clothes she deemed to be more appropriate for someone my age. I have some with me now, but I’ve never even tried them on. I’d thought it would be a sin to wear those kinds of clothes, but now, here I am. About to sin, because it turns out that I just can’t face being looked at by everyone as an outcast anymore.

Perhaps to save myself, I must become a sinner.

Camile empties the bag, and she chooses a strapless denim dress. “Try this first. I think it’s the best bet to find something to fit.”

I undress to my underwear quickly, not used to being seen, but knowing it’s okay as Camile is a girl too. This isn’t sinful. Doing it in front of a man would be very different. When I’m in just my panties and white bra, I turn to her. “Okay.”

She slips the dress over my head.

It’s got a zipper up the back, and when it settles over me and Camile has zipped it up, I realize it’s just above knee length.

“This is perfect,” Camile says as she steps back and looks at me. “But you’re going to need to lose the bra.”

“Really?” It feels like a step too far to me.

“If you’re going to wear the dress in public, definitely.”

I bite my lower lip and hesitate. It’s showing far too much skin compared to what I’m used to, but it’s no more than I’ve seen other girls wear, even sitting in class. I remind myself why I’m doing this—because I want to be like those girls—and, making up my mind, quickly turn my back and whip off my bra. I straighten the top of the dress, making sure it fits snugly around the top of my breasts and then turn back to Camile.

Her brown eyes light up and she claps and jumps up and down. “You look amazing!”

I tug at the material. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. On me, it’s a bit shorter, but on you, it’s a great length.”

I feel self-conscious with my pale legs sticking out of the dress. “Do you have anything longer?”

She shakes her head. “Not with me. You want to fit in, right? Long dresses aren’t really right for the student bar. I think this suits you much better.”

I walk to the mirror and look at myself. I feel silly, like a stupid little girl playing dress up in her mom’s clothes.

Camile takes out a small brown zip-up bag. “I have some makeup in here. Can I put a tiny bit on you?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it’s a sin, but then I remember, tonight, I’m strong. I’m going to live like a normal girl for one night, and I will ignore that damn voice in my head.

I relent. “Not much.”

“I promise.” She goes to work, and when she’s done, she says, “You can look. I only used a bit of brown mascara, a tiny bit of pale bronzer, and a subtle gloss.”

I examine my face and can’t stop staring. What the heck? It’s like a magic trick. I’m me… but not me. My eyes look huge with their spidery brown lashes. And they’re natural compared to most girls’, I know, but for me, they are striking. My lips are shiny and look bigger, but the biggest difference is the way the glow of the bronzer highlights my cheekbones and tip of my nose, making my scar less of an issue. Like this, with the makeup on, it’s not the first thing you see.

I don’t want to stop staring at myself.That’s why it’s a sin to wear makeup, his voice says.

A shiver runs down my spine. I need to drown him out.

“What do you do if you want to forget everything?” I ask Camile.

“I have a drink,” she replies with a grin as she comes to stand behind me.

Her face is reflected next to mine in the mirror, and instead of feeling ugly next to her, I feel half pretty.

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