“My mother just tidied up,” she said. “She does that when we have company. She tidies up the whole house.”
Oh… that explains it.
She turned in the direction of a fuchsia pink chair in the corner. “Please sit down,” she urged, plopping down on her bed.
“Can I just walk around for a bit,” I asked, taking it all in; the dresser, topped with bottles of nail polish and makeup, the dresser mirror, necklaces draped over its curved edges. The whimsical posters on the wall, and more family pictures, of course. I traced my hand along the curves of the mannequin in the corner. A striking blue dress was displayed on it.
“It’s my prom dress,” she said.
“Oh, wow, you have it already.” I realized that she was only about a year ahead of me, but she seemed so much older, so mature.
She laughed. “I know it’s early. It used to be my mom’s dress. It’s a classic. She has great taste in clothes. It doesn’t fit her anymore.”
I closed my eyes and saw her mother. A younger, thinner Mrs. Anderson, having a blast at a ball with a blond man; not Mischa’s father. I turned to her. “I love vintage, too.”
“Really?! Too bad you need to wear a uniform for school.”
I shrugged, looking down at my plaid skirt – it was growing on me.
“I do, too,” she said, pointing to the black and blue uniform laid out on a chair in the corner. “It sucks.”
I sat right next to her on her perfect cloud of a bed. “Who are you going to the prom with?” I asked, acting all girly-like – I was trying to gain her confidence. I really didn’t care who she was going with.
She pouted. “No one at the moment.”
I was shocked. I couldn’t believe someone like her wouldn’t have a boyfriend. “No one special in your life?”
Oops. Wrong question. A rush of contrasting emotions filled her; anger, hurt, and elation. I was confused and very curious. I needed to know more.
“Well, I had a boyfriend,” she clarified. “But he broke up with me.” She scowled. “He dumped me for Sandra Cook.”
From her expression, I gathered that she wasn't a fan of hers. I shook my head. “Sandra Cook… don’t you just hate girls like her?”
“Yes!!! She’s so pretty and perfect… and popular.”
You’re pretty and perfect, I couldn’t help thinking.
“And she’s so damn skinny. Her waist is the size of my thigh.”
“Skinny is overrated,” I told her, gazing down at my own non-existent breasts.
“But…” she said with a playful smirk. “There was someone else I kind of liked...” Her smile quickly faded.
Oh… do tell.
Before she could say anything else, I saw him. Mr. Henderson. She had a crush on Mr. Henderson.
“It was nothing,” she was quick to add. “It was a boy who already had a… girlfriend. He was a bit older than me. Just a silly crush.”
A bit older? Try twice your age. A girlfriend… try a wife. And two kids. I almost laughed. I love it when people try to fib like that. It’s rather amusing. But like she said, it was a silly crush. She knew that.
There was nothing serious going on there. Mr. Henderson already had his hands full with his mysterious redhead.
“I’m going to college soon, anyway,” she added quietly. “I really want Haley to be found before then.”
“You love Haley?”
Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I’m crazy about her. She’s like the little sister I wished I had.”
