Even I could tell she was lying.
Grace groaned. “Did he cancel on you again?”
Amy shrunk into herself. “He just needs some space.”
“Who’s Garrett?” I asked.
“A loser Amy should dump,” Grace replied.
Amy shot her a look far darker than I would have expected from someone with such a sweet face. “He’s my boyfriend, and he’s not a loser. He’s just stressed.”
“That’s no excuse for treating you like crap,” Grace said. Judging by the frustration in her voice, they’d already had this conversation more than once. “You’re also stressed with uni, but you still make time for him. I’m not saying you should be together night and day, but it’s not OK that he keeps cancelling on you last minute just because it’s all too much for him. If he really loved you, you wouldn’t be too much for him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amy hissed. She took a step towards Grace, who seemed unfazed. “That Garrett doesn’t love me?”
“Maybe. I never think you’re too much.”
“You’re my sister!”
“And he’s your boyfriend,” Grace snapped back. “I have to spend time with you, but he has a choice. And time and again, he chooses not to. And yet you’re always waiting around for him.”
Amy stared at Grace in silence for a moment. “That... that’s not true.”
Grace scoffed. “You tell yourself that, if you have to. But he’s playing you, and you’re letting him do it. And somehow, I’m the bad guy. Makes sense.” She turned on her heel and stormed back to the fitting rooms, yanking the curtain shut with more force than necessary.
Amy didn’t move. I took a cautious step towards her.
“Sorry you had to hear that. I shouldn’t have come.”
“It’s OK,” I said, and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I’m glad you’re here. Grace has told me so much about you.”
“I hate fighting with her.”
“Is some of what she said true?” I asked carefully. “Does Garrett cancel on you that often?”
Amy hesitated a moment. “Yes, it’s happened quite a lot recently. But he’s very busy. Grace doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know how exhausting med school is.”
“He’s studying medicine too?”
She nodded. “Yes, but he’s ahead of me—he’s already working in a hospital. We met at a faculty party and have been together since then. Grace has never really liked him.”
“But you love him?”
Amy nodded.
I smiled. “Then I’m sure things will get better. Grace is just worried. Give her some time to cool off, and everything will be fine.”
She sighed. “I hope so.”
I was right. The tension dissipated a few moments later, when I stepped into the fitting room with a pile of clothes and put on a fashion show. Most of the dresses looked terrible on me. They were too long and I was too thin, and often they slipped off my shoulders. I had grown gaunt living on the streets, and even with the weight I’d gained in the last few weeks, I was still pretty skinny.
I slipped into another dress. It was the last of seven, and I was beginning to lose hope. Grace had picked it out—I never would have chosen it myself. But as soon as I pulled it over my head, my hope returned. I knew instantly that this dress was different. I stepped out of the changing room, excited. Grace and Amy were sitting on stools, and they looked up from their phones. Their eyes widened when they saw me.
“Oh my god,” Grace whispered.
Amy grinned. “I think you’ve found your dress.”
I nodded and looked at myself in the mirror. “I have.”
