I sense abutcoming and I really, really want to nip it in the bud. “You were beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Sky shakes her head. “Not to Adam.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did he say something to you to suggest otherwise?” I’m planning a visit to Old Man Noemi in my mind, to find Adam and to hurt him. Badly.
“No, it wasn’t…” She sighs again. “So, during the reception, I went outside, and there were…” She buries her face in her hands. “Chipmunks. And pigeons. In that little courtyard by the ballroom.”
“Go on.”
“I was kind of overwhelmed by the loud music, and I wanted to just be in my element, with the criaturas, you know? I had a chipmunk in one hand and a pigeon in the other when…when he found me.”
I can’t help but smile at the image of Adam discovering Sky, wearing a dated prom dress, cuddling two wild animals.
“He stopped short and blinked like he couldn’t believe what hewas seeing. And then he scolded me. He said I was going to get hurt, because animals like that could have all kinds of diseases.” She frowns. “It was his tone. The way a father figure would speak to his twelve-year-old kid. He didn’t leave me until he watched me put the animals down.”
“You didn’t say anything?”
Sky shakes her head. “My voice was stuck in my throat. Here was this guy, who I built up in my head. He’s so generous and kind with his grandfather. He’s so accomplished—did you know he’s employed by theNew York Times?”
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. Not only has Sky told me about Adam’s work about two hundred times, Adam Noemi has become a kind of legend here in Cranberry. At the Lounge, when there’s a lull in conversation, someone will bring up one of his latest articles, or mention that he’s currently in Peru with his latest investigative journalism, or some chick will brag about having slept with him last time he was in town. If Cranberry High had a decent football team and one of the players went pro, everyone would be gagging over him. But instead, we have Adam. The amiable, handsome fellow who gets out of the small town with a kind of success most of us only ever see in the movies.
Sky continues, “And he’s also, you know. Hot. But with me…he saw me as a child and treated me like one, too.” She swallowed. “Anyway, when we went in, I pointed you out, because I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was like, there’s my sister, and when I went to go to you, he said his grandfather was looking for me. And he had totally perked up when he saw you. Because, and I could just tell, so don’t tell me I’m making this up, Teal. He saw you as awoman. He walked over to you right away with all thisinterest.”
“He didn’t ask me out, Sky. And I would’ve never said yes ifhe had.” I would never go with a guy one of my sisters was into. Even if Carter wasn’t my date and hadn’t asked me to fake-marry him, like, thirty minutes before.
“That’s fine. And I believe you. But it’s—” She throws up her hands. “I’m a kid to him. I know it ultimately doesn’t matter, how a man sees me. But it was still a huge blow to my ego.”
Normally, I’d tell her she’s right. The way some man sees her doesn’t matter. I’d tell her she’s beautiful and I’m hungry so let’s please buy her some pretty outfits. I would center this on me eating and getting home as soon as possible.
But number three on my resolutions list isMake it up to Sky. I’m the reason she’s missed eight years. I’m the reason she’s feeling this way.
I take a deep breath and hold out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Why?”
“Ahora, Sky.”
She pulls it from the pocket of her hoodie and drops it in my hand.
I open it up and scroll until I find Pinterest.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
I hold my hand out, blocking her as she tries to get it back. “I want to know what you’ve been pinning.” Sky’s only just discovered this app, and I swear she spends more time on that than any other social media.
I smirk as I find an album dedicated to style. “Sky Flores. You are a secret sexy librarian!”
“What? No! Give it back, Teal.”
“Look at this. Pencil skirts. Tweed blazers. Lace camisoles.” I gasp and look up at her pink face. “Stockings with the seams in the backs!”
“That’s nothing. It’s just pretty.” Finally she snatches her phone back, but I’m all smiles.
Sky already knows what I’m doing. “There’s nowhere to wear that stuff. Or this.” She jerks her thumb in the direction of the pink Barbie dress Amá had chosen. “I can’t even get a job. No one wants to hire the town freak. There’s no reason for me to own a pencil skirt to wear at home while catching up onGilmore Girls.”
“You are getting a job. Sooner or later. And you need to be ready.” I open the changing room door. “Come on. I know your style now, so this should be easy.”
Even though Sky is reluctant at first, she soon gets into it as I find whatever I can that matches her Pinterest boards. I find her knitted cardigans and sweater vests, collared shirts and lots of lacey camis. And so many damn pencil skirts. Thankfully Amá thinks pencil skirts are the height of casual-wear sophistication, so she approves all of it. When we finally make it to a restaurant for lunch—at almost dinnertime—Sky’s got shopping bags upon shopping bags filled with everything a hot librarian would need, and then some. I insisted she get her first real handbag, too—a Celine carryall-type with leather trim and gold hardware.
