turn to roll my eyes. “Oh, wait. I might actually have a question to ask you.”
“Shoot,” she said.
“Would it be okay if my sisters met him?”
She shrugged. “I guess I can ask.”
Cori sat a few tables over with her friends, talking animatedly about something. “They would totally flip,” I said.
Zara lowered her voice to mimic Ryde’s. “Anything for my fans.”
I sniggered. Poor guy. It would take something more special than fame and fortune to steal Zara’s heart. He had no idea what he was in for.
“Do you have your dresses already?” I asked the others.
“Totally,” Carson said. “It’s so sexy.”
Callie shoved his shoulder with an exasperated smile. “Girls only. And yes.”
“Yeah, I do,” Rory said.
“Same,” Jordan added.
“I’ll probably just scavenge in my closet,” Zara said. “Need to borrow something?”
I shook my head. “I think I want to go shopping with my sister.”
The bell rang, and all around us the clatter of trays and chairs began. I picked up my bag and caught up to Cori.
“Hey,” I said, “want to go help me find a dress after practice?”
Her eyes lit up. “For you? For the dance? Did Ray come around?”
“No.” I smiled just to prove I was okay with it. “But I still want to go.”
“I’ll totally shop with you,” she said. “We should be done around five.”
Sixty-Five
Cori and I parked and went into Emerson Shoppes, on a mission to find me a dress. Of course, she’d had hers ever since the first time my parents left us at home. I hadn’t planned to go to the Spring Fling if I didn’t have a date, but now I wanted to. I didn’t need a guy or a perfect body to hang out with friends and enjoy myself.
We went to the department store and began browsing through racks of dresses in the plus-size section.
Cori held up a purple dress that basically looked like a pillowcase with holes cut into it. “Have you ever noticed that plus-size dresses are like tents most of the time?”
I let out a disgusted sound, trying shove back the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy that always accompanied clothes shopping. “Why is it so hard to find anything that looks good and fits?”
“Because they try everything out on size twos. Our bodies aren’t the same,” she said, pulling out another dress. “What about this one?”
I eyed the maroon dress with an asymmetrical hemline. “We can try it?”
“Sure.” She slung it over her arm, and we continued looking.
“Has anyone asked you to the dance yet?” I asked.
She shrugged noncommittally.
“So yes?” I ducked around the racks so she would stop avoiding me.
Her cheeks were flaming bright red, a tell that answered my questions before she finally said, “Yes.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
She gave the ceiling an annoyed look and sighed. “Nathan Jorgenson.”
Keep a straight face, Ginger. Keep a straight face. “The freshman?”
Even though I hadn’t thought it possible, her cheeks grew even redder as she nodded.
Okay, that did it. I was full-on smiling. “Please tell me you let him down easy.”
“Of course I did.” She walked to another rack and began flicking through hangers. “I’m three years older than him and a foot taller.”
“You never know. It could be like that movie on Netflix where the guy stands on the milk crate to kiss the girl.”
She shook her head. “Lamest moment in movie history.”
“Or the sweetest?”
She gave me a look. “You’re comparing Tall Girl to The Breakfast Club?”
“Fair.” I began sorting through dresses and snorted. “Nathan Jorgenson.”
“What about you? I’ve seen the way Ray looks at you in the lunchroom. He seriously hasn’t asked you back?”
Well if anything was going to wipe the smile off my face, that was it. I took my dresses and said, “Let’s go try these on.”
She followed behind me. “So you know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t.” But I was dying to find out. Not that I would let Cori know that.
I let the attendant count my dresses, and we walked back. As I went into a fitting room, Cori sat on a bench by the mirrors.
“You’re not even going to ask how he looks at you?”
I shimmied out of my uniform pants and tossed them aside. “Nope.” After all, lying was so much easier than dealing with your feelings.
“Come on, Ginger. I know something happened between the two of you that weekend, more than just an asthma attack. Why aren’t you dating? Why aren’t you going to the dance together?”
I slipped the dress over my head, fighting off the rising emotions in my chest. This