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I wanted to deny it. But when I tried to shake my head, it wouldn’t move. So I gave in. “Maybe. But it didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Freya said. “Seth isn’t the kind of person who kisses people casually. If he kissed you, it meant something.”

No way. He’d specifically told me it hadn’t.

Fortunately, Stephanie showed up towing a silver rack of dresses before we could dissect this any further. “Wow, they all look beautiful,” I said without looking at any of them.

Stephanie handed over a slinky red thing that looked like it would come about to my knee. “Why don’t we start with this one?” When I went into the dressing room she made to follow me, but Freya stepped in front of her.

“I can do it.”

I managed to wiggle into the dress, pull it up inch by inch—Freya assured me it was supposed to fit this way—and then suck in my stomach for her to zip it up.

I knew as soon as we got this dress on that it wouldn’t be for me, but after all this effort, I would’ve felt bad not letting Freya open the curtain and parade me in front of the mirror. Still, Stephanie couldn’t miss my wrinkled nose at the sight. “Okay, Abby, you look great, but if you don’t feel great in it, maybe nothing else this tight,” she said. “Let’s try an A-line next.”

The A-line, a tight gathered black top with a long, chiffony white skirt shaped like an A, definitely felt better in shape even if I didn’t love the design. White, for me? No thanks.

Freya went to grab a dress from the middle of the rack. As soon as I saw the material, I shook my head. “I thought we said nothing glittery.”

“I just have a feeling about this one,” she said, thrusting it at me. Behind her, Stephanie had her lips pursed with disapproval, but she was the one who’d pulled it in the first place. “Let’s try it. For me.”

Given that she was here taking charge and helping me through this, and without her I’d be stuck with Stephanie and her pursed lips, I couldn’t argue with that. So I took the dress into the changing room, shut the curtain, and let her clothe me like a doll.

“I’m just not a glitter person,” I was telling her as she led me back out into the main space, but the words stopped short when she shoved me in front of the mirrors and there I was, glittering at angle after angle.

I almost didn’t recognize myself. The dress was another simple A-line in shape, gathered at the bust and flowing past my waist to the floor. Its sleeves were loops that circled around my upper arms, baring my shoulders so that my hair could tumble over them or be tied up high to showcase the elegant flow of my throat into my clavicle, which I’d only just now realized was elegant. The dress was black—my favorite color—and covered with tiny chips of what must have been rhinestones, small and subtle and scattered enough where I didn’t glow like a disco ball under the lights but instead shimmered whenever I moved.

I looked like a princess of the night sky. I couldn’t help but imagine Seth’s face when he saw me in it: he’d go slack-jawed, overcome by my magnificence just like a boyfriend in a classic teen movie who barely recognized the nerdy girl after she took off her glasses and straightened her hair.

No, I told myself. Stop it.

“This is the one, I think,” Freya was telling Stephanie. I couldn’t argue with her, not even when Stephanie told us the price and that Bev had given her her card number to put it on her tab. I’d keep the tags on and return it once the ball was over, I told myself. Bev wouldn’t be out anything. What would be the harm?

When I took it off and handed it over to Stephanie to place delicately into a garment bag, it felt a little like I’d lost something. Like I’d seen the ultimate expression of who I could be, and it wasn’t me in this sweater and jeans. Like it was a glimpse of who I could have been, for real, if I hadn’t grown up the way I did, with the parents I had, if I didn’t feel the need to close myself off from everyone and everything.

Would it be weird to walk around in a gown all the time?

“Are you okay?” Freya asked, holding out a tissue to me. I didn’t take it; I wasn’t crying or anything. Except then I realized that my vision was blurry, so it was either that or a stroke.

I drew in a deep breath. I couldn’t take the tissue; that would show weakness.

Except what the hell, Abby? Maybe it was less weak to acknowledge what was happening than to deny it. I took the tissue and swiped at my eyes. The blurry vision cleared up, which was a relief. “Thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?” Freya asked. It was still just the two of us back here; Stephanie was up front wrapping the dress and processing payment and whatever else.

I hesitated. “Nothing.” Then hesitated again. I’d already basically been naked in front of her. She’d called herself a friend. Maybe I could stand to let a little bit of myself out. “I was just thinking about my family.”

“Oh, wishing they could be here to see it?” she said sympathetically. “I had a similar thing happen with my prom dress. My mom had to work the night I went shopping, and I was sad she couldn’t be there with me.”

You know what? It was easier to let her think that than go into the truth. Besides, this night was going so well. I really felt like we were bonding. “Yeah, that’s totally it. I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“But Seth said they lived in the area,” Freya said.

“Yeah, it’s complicated,” I said. I hesitated. Should I go on?

Not with the full truth, definitely. Opening up to Seth had actually made me feel a bit better—or had, at least, made my headache fade—but I trusted him, even though I hadn’t known him much longer at this point than I’d known Freya. I thought I might be able to trust Freya someday if this friendship kept developing, but we weren’t there yet. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” I said again, because that was one hundred percent true. “It’s sad. I hadn’t thought it bothered me this much, but staying with Seth and his family, it really makes me miss them.” That was also one hundred percent true. Even if, when I said I missed them, it was less missing those specific people and who they were than it was missing the idea of the parents I could have had.

Again, the thought struck me: what had I done to deserve the parents I got?