tension is broken. My clenched muscles relax a little.
âOkay,â I say, a little warily.
âOkay,â she says, and sighs.
I try a tentative smile. âMy shoes still need help, though.â
âIâm not arguing with that,â Mikaela says, shifting a little to turn toward me. âYou know, thereâs this thing called a shoe store. You may have heard of it before.â
âYeah, but I need serious help. My closet is full of cute pink hoodies. I canât be trusted to shop for myself.â
Mikaela laughs.
Iâm trying to make a joke out of it, but inside, my heart is breaking because Iâm remembering one of the last times I saw Shiri when she was alive. It was August, right before she went back to college, and we were at South Coast Plaza together, combing the stores for new school wardrobes. Or, more accurately, I was following her around and trying to emulate her as best I could with the limited budget my parents gave me.
âIâm really going to miss doing this with you, Sunny,â Shiri said, throwing her arm conspiratorially over my shoulders, her Macyâs bag flapping against my arm. âItâs been fun.â
Then I do cry. Tears slip out of my eyes as I sit there silently, aching.
Mikaela looks over at me, her dark eyes worried.
âIâm fine,â I manage to croak. âItâs justâGod, Iâm sick of being such a mess. Everything reminds me of her.â
Mikaelaâs voice is soft. âShe meant a lot to you.â Itâs a statement, not a question.
âYeah.â I wipe my face with one hand and stare upward, at the rusty metal roof of the awning, and listen to the light clatter of the rain until I feel more under control .
âHey,â Mikaela says suddenly. Sheâs not staring at me anymore but messing with something in her purse. âAre you busy tomorrow? Want to go shopping?â
I turn and look at her stupidly.
âLike at the mall?â
âSure. Or, if you want, I know some cool stores in Santa Ana. Or even Grovetown. Ever been to Thumbscrew? Over on Fifth?â
âIn Grovetown?â
âYeah, I know, Grovetown, right? But itâs the best. The 16 bus stops right there. Come on, we should go.â Mikaela swats me on the arm. âYou were complaining about your closet. We have to replace those hoodies with something .â
âOkay. Sure. I just have to let my mom know.â I pause awkwardly. âYou know, she wants to meet you now. Sheâs all excited that I have âcreativeâ friends.â I roll my eyes. âSo maybe you can come over afterward and stay for dinner or something?â
The minute the invitation slips out of my mouth, I regret it. I squeeze my eyes shut, press my lips together. Sheâs going to think Iâm trying too hard.
I try to backtrack. âI mean, only if youâre not busy. Either way is cool.â
âYeah, why not? My mom works a late nursing shift on weekends, so Iâd just be doing a whole lotta nothinâ anyway.â
My shoulders unknot a little.
Mikaela finishes rummaging in her purse and, with a flourish, produces a black marker. I frown at it.
âUh, whatâs that for?â I have this horrifying vision of having to stand watch while Mikaela tags the picnic table.
âThis,â she says with a grin, âis for your boring sneakers.â
As I walk into the house admiring my feet, I have to admit that Mikaelaâs embellishments are a major improvement. Where I once had plain white low-top sneakers whose only adornment was the all-important brand-name logo, I now have shoes that swirl and vibrate with amazing designs, intricate mind-bending spirals and thorny-tattoo-looking black branches. Mikaela has serious talent.
I hope her talent extends to improving my wardrobe. Pastel tops and swim team swagâthey just remind me of my old life, and Iâm more than ready for a change.
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