the shades just enough to peek under them. Her eyes lock on my reflection in the mirror. “They are pretty cool, right?”
Pretty cool…if you’re okay looking like a fly-eyed alien. When I say, “Totally, those are it,” she drops them back on her nose and goes to the cashier.
Leigh appears beside me but barely looks my way. “She’ll tire of you eventually. She always does. And it’s never pretty.” She grabs a scarf and calls, “Reese, babe, check this out. It’d be perfect with your red dress.” She struts to the counter.
A sticky feeling settles in my gut. Friendships never get this far for me, if I’d even call Reese a friend. Travel buddy, maybe? Girl my age who likes to play Barbie? But I’m Nina, not Pininfarina, and I’m not ready for Reese to rip off my arms and legs and toss me in her toy cemetery. I’ve been incident-free for three whole days. Surely that means something.
I stroll through the tiny shop so packed with merchandise it would take an extended episode of What Not to Wear to riffle through its contents. As I squeeze between a rack of hats and beach sarongs, a high shelf behind the cash catches my eyes.
Sunscreen. Shoot. Along with deodorant and tampons, something else I forgot to pack in my rush to leave. With the amount of skin showing beneath my clothes, I’ll likely burn in five seconds.
As Reese finishes paying, I grab a tube of cherry lip balm, smile at the saleslady, and point to the highest numbered bottle they have. I pay and meet the girls outside.
“Sorry, guys. Do you mind waiting?” I ask, holding up the sunscreen. “I’ll just be a sec.”
Leigh clucks her tongue against her teeth while Brianne looks to Reese to see how she’s supposed to react. Reese says, “Sure, whatever. If I had that porcelain skin, I’d load on the sunscreen, too.”
Brianne: “God, I know. It’s awesome, right?”
Me: “Seriously? I look like Casper on a good day. Like I’ve never seen sunlight. You can practically see my bones.” Self-deprecation champion.
Reese huffs and turns to Brianne. “Tell the bus to wait for us.”
Brianne runs off obediently while I lather up my arms and legs. When I’m done, Reese juts her chin toward the sunscreen. “I’ll do your back.”
Another gravelly sound comes from Leigh. She’s leaning against the store, her knee bent with one foot against the wall in an equilateral triangle. Angle girl.
“Take off your top,” Reese says.
My shirt? Off? Here? “Sorry?”
Two cars drive by at five miles per hour, a few girls from our hostel are across the street looking through a shop window, but I’d swear there are thousands of eyes on me. This in no way fits into my plan to blend in.
“We don’t have all day,” Reese says, annoyance creeping into her voice.
I laugh nervously and grab the hem of my top as my eyes flit every which way. I slip the cotton over my head, gooseflesh sending my hairs on end, and I clutch the thin fabric.
I am now half-naked. On the street. In public. Wearing Leigh’s barely-there bikini. The words stripped, exposed, and laid bare hardly capture my shame. Shorn is closer. I turn away from Reese and jump when a cold glob of sunscreen hits my back. The second her hands feather over my skin, Leigh says, “Shit!”
Reese and I spin around. I hunch forward to stop the sunscreen from sliding onto my skirt, and I hold my top in front of my boobs to prevent them from popping out.
Cheese-in-a-can bad.
Leigh is glaring at a huge rip running up the side of her black tank. “I must’ve been leaning on a fucking nail.” She flicks her head to the wall behind her. “I need your tank top, Reese—the black halter one. Come back to the hostel with me.”
Reese huffs out a breath and shakes her head. After rubbing in maybe half the sunscreen on my back, she says, “Meet us at the bus.”
I stay bent as she marches off, a few globs still dripping downward.
A guy walks by my folded body, his eyebrows cocked in amusement as he laughs to himself. Perfect. I squish my tank top between my legs and reach both hands behind my back to spread the remaining sunscreen. I twist and arch and contort, my shoulder nearing dislocation, until the bulk of it is rubbed in. Exhausted, I hunch forward to stretch out my back, only to see familiar black boots. I guess things could