After they left, I set the locks, checked them twice, and then scooted Keely’s old desk against the door.
* * *
The doorto Sierra’s room was still cracked. There was no reason why it shouldn’t be, but still, it felt odd to think that she’d never close it again.
Where had she been going? What had she been going to do? She had just run out to buy something, the detective had said.
I knew it was probably the wrong thing to do, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Opening her door the entire way, I was shocked to see that her room was impeccable. Her bed was made. No clothes on the floor. And it still smelled like her. Like maybe she had spritzed some perfume on before she left.
The only odd thing, compared to the rest of the place, were the things she had left out on her bed—a fancy black dress, a gold card with writing on it, and a few gold boxes. Shoes to match the dress sat on the floor.
I stepped in and paused. I waited. And waited. I expected her to jump out at me and scream, “I’m gonna cut you, bitch, for being in here!”The scare never came, but I was still on edge. Goosebumps puckered my arms.
The fear wasn’t enough to stop me from looking around, though. The dead were not the ones to fear. It was the living.
The black dress was classy. The top reminded me of wings, while the rest seemed to be form fitting. The fabric felt expensive. I took the card from beside the dress. It seemed like an invitation. It had the date (today), the time (11:11 P.M.), and the place (The Club, New York, New York) in regal-looking black script. It stood out against the gold. At the bottom, in smaller writing, it noted that no entry would be allowed without the card.
Interesting.
On the way to the fair, Keely had mentioned that Sierra was excited about a new job prospect. Sierra had told Keely that if she got the job, she’d be moving out, able to afford more than what she’d been swinging.
All of her problems will be solved, for good,Keely had said.
I wondered if she was going to be a high-priced call girl. I didn’t voice the thought aloud, though, because I wouldn’t want to just assume something like that, but I couldn’t figure out what else she could do that would solve all of her problemsfor good.She was a foster kid just like me.
The gold boxes were filled with perfumes from Brazil. I opened them, sniffing. Vanilla and caramel stood out right away, and I could pick up on hints of pistachio, almond, jasmine petals, and sandalwood after I read the description on the box. I inhaled again, almost intoxicated by the exotic smell. It was a hell of a long way from the salty smell that usually followed me around. I opened the cream, rubbing a little bit on my arm. It smelled even better on the skin. Sierra even had the body wash to match.
Taking a seat on her bed, I set the lotion down and picked up the invitation again, twirling it between my fingers. The shoes were next to my bare feet. Sierra’s feet were a size or two bigger than mine.
How fitting, I thought,either too big or too small. Nothing ever fit me.
Because you can’t afford anything made for you.
Then a bunch of voices seemed to come at me at once:
Take the opportunity, Mari.You have the dress. The shoes, even if they’re too big. Perfume. The invitation. Sierra can’t make it. But. You. Can.
Even the princess you color in the books had a fairy godmother. This is your chance to have one.
You have no place to go, no money, nothing.
This might be your last opportunity.
Things are bad.
So bad.
It would be nice to have a pair of shoes that fit. A phone I can afford on my own. Breadandcheese. A warm place to sleep when it’s cold out and a cool place when it’s hot. No rats. No Merv.
Security.
The other side of the glass.
What if it means trading your body?
Could you even do something like that with a face like yours?
It’s worth the shot to survive. To live. This might be your last chance, a once in a lifetime opportunity to solve all of your problems.For good.
