The Mall - Megan McCafferty Page 0,32

me up, but it was already too late.

“Cassandra?”

The door to the dressing room swung open and a middle-aged woman came out in a bedazzled spandex bandage that could only be described as a bimbo dress.

“Mom?”

The middle-aged woman wearing the bimbo dress was my mother.

“What are you doing here?” Kathy asked.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

To be honest, hers was the more legitimate question. One peek at the collection of short, tight, sparkly options still hanging from the hooks in the dressing room and it was instantly clear to me what Kathy was doing in Bellarosa Boutique.

My mother was putting herself back on the market.

My mother was ready to date men who weren’t my father.

My mother was probably going to get laid before I did.

I swear I might have fallen down if Drea weren’t literally propping me up by my elbows.

“Cassie works here, Mrs. Worthy,” Drea answered on my behalf.

“Doctor Worthy.”

Mom made this correction so often, it was like an afterthought. Kathy shook out her feathered pageboy. She’d had the same hairstyle my whole life. This sensible mom hair did not match this irresponsible bimbo dress.

“Cassandra?”

“Can you please change out of that outfit?” I pleaded. “It’s impossible for me to have a serious conversation with you when you’re dressed for a special senior citizen episode of Club MTV.”

It was a mean thing to say. Kathy was still about twenty years shy of collecting social security. And okay, as much as I hated to admit it, my mother didn’t look terrible. Drea had selected a cut and fabric that flattered Kathy’s fuller figure, skimming her generous hips and thighs without clinging to any bumps or bulges. My mother actually had the body for this dress. And unlike her daughter, she also had the soul.

“Have you been lying to me all summer?” Kathy asked.

Her self-righteous tone put me over the edge.

“Have you and Dad been lying to me all my life?”

Kathy’s face fell. And the contrast between her depressed expression and this gaudy, good-time dress could not have been more stark.

“Yes, I’ve been working here at Bellarosa Boutique, not at America’s Best Cookie,” I admitted. “But before you get on my case, think about who the bigger liar is here.”

I’d been fibbing about my employment for a week. My parents had been perpetuating the myth of the perfect partnership my whole life. Who knows, maybe even longer than that? Maybe getting married and having a kid were just boxes to tick off, proof of demonstrable progress on the plan Frank and Kathy had set in motion when they met at dental school…?

“Why did you lie to us?” Kathy asked.

“I didn’t want you to know Troy and I had broken up.”

Saying it out loud like that, I realized just how foolish I was. Had I really thought I could hide the truth from my parents forever? Or did I believe Troy and I would get back together before they ever found out? Both options were equally dumb.

“You broke up?” Kathy clutched a hand to the rhinestones embellishing her chest. “But you were so perfect together! You had the plan!”

All this time I’d thought we’d broken up because Troy cheated on me. But maybe that was just the symptom of a much deeper, possibly genetic problem.

“We broke up,” I answered, “because you and Frank aren’t the only ones in the family who suck at relationships.”

I bolted from the store before I saw for myself how much I’d hurt her.

17

EVOLUTION

I was stabbing pulpy sludge with a straw when someone sat beside me on the bench. Tipped off by the mixed bouquet of Aussie Mega and Giorgio Beverly Hills, I didn’t even look up from my cup.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“With all the people you’re avoiding,” Drea said, “there aren’t many places in the mall for you to hide.”

I laughed ruefully. She definitely wasn’t wrong.

“Your mom bought the dress I picked out for her,” Drea said.

How nice for Drea to make a sweet commission off the dissolution of my parents’ marriage.

“Maybe Kathy will go to you when it’s time to shop for her second wedding dress.”

“Come on, Cassie,” Drea said. “Calm down.”

Too late. I was all hopped up on syrup, citrus, and resentment.

“Can I get an employee discount on the maid of honor dress when she remarries some old dude who isn’t my dad?”

“Are you done yet?” Drea asked.

I chewed on the straw in defiance, putting the soft tissue of my gums at risk and not giving a single shit what my parents might