myself to pay attention to what was hot and what was not, and that wasn’t the kind of thing a person could just turn off, but I wasn’t in the habit of blurting out fashion assessments, especially if it meant hurting someone I didn’t even know in front of the nicest, purest person I’d ever met.
For a moment, Lexie stared at me with such concentration that I was afraid she was going to be sucked up into another body-shaking vision. Instead, she just turned to the other girl and patted her arm. “She doesn’t mean it,” Lexie said, and then she winced at the lie in her own voice and corrected herself. “Well, she does mean it about the skirt, but she doesn’t mean it to be mean, you know? She’s just sad and tired and her head hurts.”
It took me a second to realize that Lexie was defending me to the flabbergasted Non, whose name I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure whether to love her for doing it or hate her for being able to tell so easily what I was feeling and broadcasting it to the population at large.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t hate Lexie.
“And maybe the skirt isn’t that great, but you have an awesome smile, and I always say that facial expressions make the outfit.” As Lexie talked, the other girl visibly relaxed. In another five seconds, Skirt Girl was going to be the number one member of the Lexie James fan club, and I couldn’t even process what was happening. It was like the frigging Twilight Zone or something.
Lexie bit her bottom lip as she appraised the skirt. “Maybe you should give it a slit,” she said thoughtfully.
“Give it a slit?” the girl asked, with a look that alternated between wariness, utter confusion, and adoration.
I recognized the determination on Lexie’s face, and sighed, unable to deny her. “You should give it a slit,” I said, allowing Lexie to test out the fashion truth in that statement.
“Yup,” Lexie said, looking pleased with herself and, strangely, with me. “A slit.”
At the tone of her voice, I was overcome with the feeling that a slit would indeed improve the skirt, and I could see Lexie’s cheerful proclamation taking effect on her victim as well.
“Thanks,” the girl told Lexie, before looking at me through absolutely dazed eyes.
As the girl walked off, seriously considering the slit, I played the scene over in my mind. I wasn’t sure, but there was a distinct chance that through some twisted turn of events, I’d just given solid fashion advice to a Non. Without even meaning to. I always thought about things before I did them. Always. And yet, I hadn’t. Add to that the fact that Lexie had thoroughly (and unknowingly) crushed my Invincible Queen of Icy Town image, and I was feeling a little unhinged.
“Don’t feel bad,” Lexie told me softly.
Was I really that transparent?
“You didn’t mean to hurt her feelings,” she said solemnly. “It just happened.”
She thought I was freaking out over the way my words had affected the girl, when really, I was obsessing over the fact that my mental control tower had taken yet another hit.
“She knows you didn’t mean to,” Lexie continued in a soothing voice.
Suddenly, and with no warning whatsoever, I felt bad about feeling bad about the wrong things. Lexie had taken it for granted that I hadn’t meant to be mean. When was the last time someone had given me a break like that? More or less once upon a never, and here I was, agonizing over the fact that I’d been nice to someone without mulling it over first.
Just call me a puppy kicker.
“You’re not mean, Lilah,” Lexie said fiercely. “Not you. ”
The emphasis on the last word choked me up a little. I shook my head. The kid was clearly misguided, and part of me wanted to let her know that I wasn’t this good person she thought I was, and that, hey, that was one of the sacrifices I’d had to make and, at least until a few weeks ago, I’d always been okay with that.
Without thinking, I leaned back on the hideous
For a moment, Lexie stared at me with such concentration that I was afraid she was going to be sucked up into another body-shaking vision. Instead, she just turned to the other girl and patted her arm. “She doesn’t mean it,” Lexie said, and then she winced at the lie in her own voice and corrected herself. “Well, she does mean it about the skirt, but she doesn’t mean it to be mean, you know? She’s just sad and tired and her head hurts.”
It took me a second to realize that Lexie was defending me to the flabbergasted Non, whose name I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure whether to love her for doing it or hate her for being able to tell so easily what I was feeling and broadcasting it to the population at large.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t hate Lexie.
“And maybe the skirt isn’t that great, but you have an awesome smile, and I always say that facial expressions make the outfit.” As Lexie talked, the other girl visibly relaxed. In another five seconds, Skirt Girl was going to be the number one member of the Lexie James fan club, and I couldn’t even process what was happening. It was like the frigging Twilight Zone or something.
Lexie bit her bottom lip as she appraised the skirt. “Maybe you should give it a slit,” she said thoughtfully.
“Give it a slit?” the girl asked, with a look that alternated between wariness, utter confusion, and adoration.
I recognized the determination on Lexie’s face, and sighed, unable to deny her. “You should give it a slit,” I said, allowing Lexie to test out the fashion truth in that statement.
“Yup,” Lexie said, looking pleased with herself and, strangely, with me. “A slit.”
At the tone of her voice, I was overcome with the feeling that a slit would indeed improve the skirt, and I could see Lexie’s cheerful proclamation taking effect on her victim as well.
“Thanks,” the girl told Lexie, before looking at me through absolutely dazed eyes.
As the girl walked off, seriously considering the slit, I played the scene over in my mind. I wasn’t sure, but there was a distinct chance that through some twisted turn of events, I’d just given solid fashion advice to a Non. Without even meaning to. I always thought about things before I did them. Always. And yet, I hadn’t. Add to that the fact that Lexie had thoroughly (and unknowingly) crushed my Invincible Queen of Icy Town image, and I was feeling a little unhinged.
“Don’t feel bad,” Lexie told me softly.
Was I really that transparent?
“You didn’t mean to hurt her feelings,” she said solemnly. “It just happened.”
She thought I was freaking out over the way my words had affected the girl, when really, I was obsessing over the fact that my mental control tower had taken yet another hit.
“She knows you didn’t mean to,” Lexie continued in a soothing voice.
Suddenly, and with no warning whatsoever, I felt bad about feeling bad about the wrong things. Lexie had taken it for granted that I hadn’t meant to be mean. When was the last time someone had given me a break like that? More or less once upon a never, and here I was, agonizing over the fact that I’d been nice to someone without mulling it over first.
Just call me a puppy kicker.
“You’re not mean, Lilah,” Lexie said fiercely. “Not you. ”
The emphasis on the last word choked me up a little. I shook my head. The kid was clearly misguided, and part of me wanted to let her know that I wasn’t this good person she thought I was, and that, hey, that was one of the sacrifices I’d had to make and, at least until a few weeks ago, I’d always been okay with that.
Without thinking, I leaned back on the hideous
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