Bite Club Page 0,56

a thing today?"

"Oh. Yeah, I'm taking her shopping."

"Shopping. Miranda. Really?" Eve looked confused, then a little bit fascinated. "Wow. Talk about the color-blind leading the blind."

"Hey!"

"Sorry, honey, but your amazing fashion sense is not the talk of anywhere. And Miranda doesn't go shopping. She's more of a Dumpster diver fashion victim."

"Well, she does with me," Claire said. She was stinging a little bit, because getting fashion dissed by a girl wearing red-and-black Halloween hose and a fake shrunken-head necklace was just too much. "Did she say where to meet her?"

"She said she'd be outside at ten."

Claire checked her watch. It was already ten after ten. "Guess I'm going, then. You heading out?"

"Some of us have work."

"Some of us have mad-scientist bosses who give them the day off for fumigation."

"Okay, you win." Eve winked and grabbed her stuff as Claire picked up hers. "Too bad I can't come with you two and give you decent makeovers. Andwhy don't you ever wear that pink wig? That was the kick."

She wasn't wrong. The pink wig that Eve had practically made her buy in Dallas was, indeed,the kick , but away from Eve she always felt miserably self-conscious about wearing it. People looked at her. Claire was much more used to being invisible.

And right now, with all that was going on, seeming invisible sounded good.

Miranda was standing outside the fence, rocking a very unfashionable look--a plaid schoolgirl skirt that went past her knees and a wrinkled shirt in a color that might have been moss green in better light, but didn't match that skirt or her coloring at all. Her worried face actually lit up when she saw Eve and Claire. Eve waved and got into the big, black hearse, and Miranda waved back, as enthusiastic as a kid at her first parade. She sighed, watching the tail fins turn the corner. "She is so cool."

"She is," Claire agreed. "But so are you. Come on. Let's go shop."

Those looking for clothes in Morganville had two options: the resale stores, of which there were three, or the one off-brand department store that mostly had clearance items from the better places. After considering Miranda's budget, Claire steered her to the resale shops. College students often discarded their outfits here at the store next to the campus. Nobody was more fashion conscious than a TPU girl. It wasn't like most of them were on campus for the education.

To be fair, that applied to the guys just as well.

Miranda followed along happily enough to the first resale shop. She didn't say much, but there was a glow about her, something that made her seem much healthier and happier than Claire could remember. Just a little bit of attention, and the girl bloomed. That made Claire feel guilty and sad; she hadn't gone out of her way to make friends with Miranda, and she knew nobody else did, either. No doubt the girl could be weird and upsetting, but she was just like anybody else.

She needed to beseen .

"Here," Claire said, and held open the door of the shop for her. A tinny, cheerful bell rang overhead, and Miranda looked around as excitedly as if she'd never heard one before. That was impossible, wasn't it? That she wouldn't know what a shop bell sounded like?

Maybe not.

The woman at the back, dozing behind the counter, looked up and smiled sleepily. "You girls look around," she said. "Let me know when you're ready to try on."

"Okay," Miranda said, and stopped at the first rack of clothes. "Oh. Wow. There are a lot."

"Yeah, honey. Those aren't your size. Here. Look through these." Claire felt like she was unexpectedly channeling Eve as she pulled things out and held them up against Miranda's skinny frame, discarding some, keeping others. Strong colors didn't work on her, but earth tones did. Before too long, Miranda was pulling things on her own and holding them up, staring into the mirror as if she was seeing a future that, finally, didn't scare her at all.

"Can I try them on?" she asked. Claire waved at the shop owner, who unlocked the dressing rooms. Claire passed things over the top to Miranda, and leaned against the door.

"Nothing for you?" the woman asked, raising her eyebrows. Claire felt the look that swept over her outfit as if it had been an actual red-hot laser. She'd just been scanned, and found wanting.

"Well, maybe a top," she said. "Maybe."

"I have just what you need."

And she did, too. Claire ended up modeling it in