in kissing.
The real deal. Mel had Avery pressed into the corner. Her hands were on Avery’s waist. Avery’s hands were lost somewhere in Mel’s hair. Full-on, serious making out. Nina got enough of a look to know that what she was seeing was real.
Nina froze, holding the curtain to the side. One of her atomic laughs almost bubbled up, but then it stopped somewhere in her throat and sank back down. Nowhere in Nina’s arsenal of responses, replies, and reactions did she have anything for this. So she just stood there for a moment, trying to think of something neutral. Something you could say on any occasion at all.
“What’s going on?” she asked. That was the best she could do. She meant it to sound cool, normal—but she heard a slight tremble in her tone.
Mel squealed just a bit, and Avery wheeled around to face Nina.
No one said anything for about a minute.
“Nothing,” Avery finally said, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Mel just looked at Nina, met her square in the eye.
“Okay. I’ll be out here when you’re …”
She dropped the curtain and stepped back a few feet. Inside, Mel and Avery were mumbling and gathering up their things.
Nina sat down on a bench at the entrance of the dressing room, on a pile of discarded summer clearance dresses, the ones with the hideous patterns that no one will ever buy, even if they are marked down to $9.99.
Many things occurred to her at once.
One, this explained a lot of what she’d felt since she’d been back from California. The constant feeling of being out of the loop. The in-jokes she couldn’t understand. Of course … Every bit of it made sense.
Two,
of course
they hadn’t told her anything about the summer.
Three, they’d probably asked to go to another store
on purpose.
Now Nina was someone to be escaped from, like an annoying parent or a chaperone.
She could change that last one. She would show them, right now, in the first moments of discovery, just how fine she was with it. Because she was. She wasn’t homophobic. Homophobic—did that term apply only to lesbians and gay men? No, it had to apply to bisexuals as well. Were they bisexual, or were they lesbians? Should she ask? Did it matter? It wasn’t supposed to matter. Better not to ask.
Had
they been joking?
Maybe this was a long setup for a prank. It didn’t look like a joke. But then, wasn’t that the sign of a well-executed joke? It looked so real….
No. That
was
real. And they still hadn’t come out.
Come out. Very funny.
“Um,” a voice said, “you can’t sit
there
.”
Nina looked up. It was the salesgirl again.
“Why not?” Nina asked.
“You can’t sit there,” the girl repeated.
“Why?”
“Um, that’s the clothes bench?”
Nina saw an empty rack not four feet away.
“What about that? That’s a
rack.
It’s for clothes.”
“You can’t sit here,
okay?
” the girl said, adjusting her pants on her nonexistent hips. “You’re going to have to move,
okay?
”
With a sigh, Nina gave up the bench and slid down in front of the trifold mirror, the dressing room’s one luxury item. The salesgirl flounced away with a snort.
To Nina’s horror, she found that her eyes were tearing up and there was a heaving sigh building deep in her solar plexus—all part of a prelude to a sob, which she couldn’t release here or now. Not in front of Mel, or Avery, and certainly not in front of that thing that had just tossed her off the clearance bench. Not under the fluorescent lights of the dressing room. Not sitting on the floor of an outlet mall, with all the discarded numbers and tags and crap.
She clamped it down and closed her eyes.
“We’ll be right out,” Mel called through the curtain.
“Okay!” Nina called back cheerfully. “I’m just going to wait outside.”
Nina stepped back into the store. Everything had a strange pallor—the pinks and oranges and yellows were so garish they seemed to vibrate. The bins of excess flip-flops and sun hats
The real deal. Mel had Avery pressed into the corner. Her hands were on Avery’s waist. Avery’s hands were lost somewhere in Mel’s hair. Full-on, serious making out. Nina got enough of a look to know that what she was seeing was real.
Nina froze, holding the curtain to the side. One of her atomic laughs almost bubbled up, but then it stopped somewhere in her throat and sank back down. Nowhere in Nina’s arsenal of responses, replies, and reactions did she have anything for this. So she just stood there for a moment, trying to think of something neutral. Something you could say on any occasion at all.
“What’s going on?” she asked. That was the best she could do. She meant it to sound cool, normal—but she heard a slight tremble in her tone.
Mel squealed just a bit, and Avery wheeled around to face Nina.
No one said anything for about a minute.
“Nothing,” Avery finally said, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Mel just looked at Nina, met her square in the eye.
“Okay. I’ll be out here when you’re …”
She dropped the curtain and stepped back a few feet. Inside, Mel and Avery were mumbling and gathering up their things.
Nina sat down on a bench at the entrance of the dressing room, on a pile of discarded summer clearance dresses, the ones with the hideous patterns that no one will ever buy, even if they are marked down to $9.99.
Many things occurred to her at once.
One, this explained a lot of what she’d felt since she’d been back from California. The constant feeling of being out of the loop. The in-jokes she couldn’t understand. Of course … Every bit of it made sense.
Two,
of course
they hadn’t told her anything about the summer.
Three, they’d probably asked to go to another store
on purpose.
Now Nina was someone to be escaped from, like an annoying parent or a chaperone.
She could change that last one. She would show them, right now, in the first moments of discovery, just how fine she was with it. Because she was. She wasn’t homophobic. Homophobic—did that term apply only to lesbians and gay men? No, it had to apply to bisexuals as well. Were they bisexual, or were they lesbians? Should she ask? Did it matter? It wasn’t supposed to matter. Better not to ask.
Had
they been joking?
Maybe this was a long setup for a prank. It didn’t look like a joke. But then, wasn’t that the sign of a well-executed joke? It looked so real….
No. That
was
real. And they still hadn’t come out.
Come out. Very funny.
“Um,” a voice said, “you can’t sit
there
.”
Nina looked up. It was the salesgirl again.
“Why not?” Nina asked.
“You can’t sit there,” the girl repeated.
“Why?”
“Um, that’s the clothes bench?”
Nina saw an empty rack not four feet away.
“What about that? That’s a
rack.
It’s for clothes.”
“You can’t sit here,
okay?
” the girl said, adjusting her pants on her nonexistent hips. “You’re going to have to move,
okay?
”
With a sigh, Nina gave up the bench and slid down in front of the trifold mirror, the dressing room’s one luxury item. The salesgirl flounced away with a snort.
To Nina’s horror, she found that her eyes were tearing up and there was a heaving sigh building deep in her solar plexus—all part of a prelude to a sob, which she couldn’t release here or now. Not in front of Mel, or Avery, and certainly not in front of that thing that had just tossed her off the clearance bench. Not under the fluorescent lights of the dressing room. Not sitting on the floor of an outlet mall, with all the discarded numbers and tags and crap.
She clamped it down and closed her eyes.
“We’ll be right out,” Mel called through the curtain.
“Okay!” Nina called back cheerfully. “I’m just going to wait outside.”
Nina stepped back into the store. Everything had a strange pallor—the pinks and oranges and yellows were so garish they seemed to vibrate. The bins of excess flip-flops and sun hats
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