Outside (7 page)

Browsing a rack labeled BOHO CHIC, I find several skirts that are suitable. A nice, sensible brown skirt and two green skirts. One of them is ruffled, which would be considered ostentatious, but my choices are limited. It’s long enough, the color isn’t flashy, and it’s light weight.

“Let’s share a room so we can all go at the same time,” Serena suggests.

Holly and Jacki nod as the four of us stand in line with our clothes.

“Share a room for what?” I ask.

“Trying on our clothes,” Serena says, picking through the bundle in her arms.

I blink at her and turn to Holly. “Like, undress in front of each other?”

She smiles. “You make it sound weird. We’re not getting
naked
. You’re wearing a bra and underwear, right?”

Appalled, I step back. “I am, but that’s beside the point.” In Shiloh, though we shared a bathroom, undressing in front of anyone besides your mate was strictly forbidden.

Holly sighs. “Alright,
we’ll
share a room and wait on Miss Prudey Pants to try on all her shit separately.”

Jacki pinches Holly’s arm. “Stoppit,” she says, scowling. “She can have her own room if she wants. She don’t know us that well.” She turns to me. “I don’t blame you.”

For a moment, I wish Jacki was my cousin instead of Holly.

After waiting in line, the three of them crowd into one dressing room together and I take one on my own. They finish trying on their clothes before I can bring myself to fully undress in this strange, noisy place.

“Let’s see!” Serena yells through the door at me.

Aside from the skirts and shirts I picked out, they made me try on clothes they picked for me.

“Just for fun. You don’t have to buy them,” Holly told me.

But now, standing here in the floral dress Jacki chose, showing nearly all of my legs and all of my arms and a lot of my chest, this doesn’t seem like fun.

I pull my hair forward in an attempt to cover my chest and shoulders, but end up exposing the crisscross back. I turn in the mirror and gasp at the sight of the raised pink scars that stripe my skin. I avoid looking at them if I can help it. Here, under these harsh, bright lights, it’s all I see.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Holly calls.

“N-nothing,” I stammer. I have to get out of this dress.

I start to pull down one of the straps when the door opens. I shriek and move to cover myself, not knowing which is worse; bare arms, bare legs, and bare chest, or exposed back.

The three of them stand there, grinning.

“Oh my god, that’s so adorable!” Jacki’s eyes light up. “Turn so we can see the back!”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Look,” Holly says. “It’s a good length, too. Down to your knees so you’re not showing off any thigh meat.”

“Not that she has any,” Serena huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Holly reaches out, grabbing my arm. “Turn,” she says, spinning me.

As soon as I turn, Holly hisses, sucking air through her teeth.

“Holy shit,” Serena breathes.

I turn back quickly. “Can I take this off now?” Tears sting my eyes and I blink rapidly to avoid crying in front of them.

“I didn’t know,” Holly blurts, horrified. She steps into the room. Serena and Jacki do the same, pulling the door shut behind them.

Taking one of the long skirts out of the pile, I wrap it around my shoulders like a shawl and slump onto the bench.

“What happened?” Jacki’s face is pained as she kneels in front of me.

I tuck my legs as far under the bench as I can get them. “I sinned,” I say.

“Lordy Jesus,” Serena says. “What’d you do? Kill someone?”

Holly shoots her a dirty look.

The tears leak out of my eyes despite my best efforts. “I brought evil into Shiloh,” I say.

“Like, satanic shit?” Holly asks, eyeing me.

I nod. “I didn’t mean to. I was just curious.”

“About Satan?” Holly squints at me.

Shaking my head, I wipe my eyes with my hands. “No. Just curious about people like…” I look up at them. “People like you. I wanted to know what wicked people read. So during our observation trip, I took a book from the library. It didn’t
seem
evil. It was about a faery girl named Avryn and her unicorn, Windshadow. And Hayze…” My eyes drop to the carpet when I say, “Mother found it and turned me in.” Sniffling, I peek up at them.

“Over a unicorn book?” Jacki shakes her head.

“That’s fucked up,” Serena says. “I know what book you’re talking about. It’s not evil. Trust me.”

My head snaps up. “You’ve read it?”

“Yeah,” she says, waving her hand. “I’ve read all of them. I have them all at home. Definitely not satanic. A little cheesy, but not satanic.”

I stare at her, letting it sink in. For a moment, no one speaks.

“How’d the rest of these work for you?” Holly finally says, nodding at the mess of skirts and tops beside me.

I glance at them and shrug. “Okay, I guess.” Honestly, they all fit weird. The seams are crooked on the tops and the skirts sit below my belly button, which is odd. All my other skirts covered my navel.

Jacki pats my leg. “I can understand why you might not be ready to wear a tank top or whatever, but you should seriously consider some shorts or capris, or even jeans. It’s okay to have legs. Most humans have them.”

We move on to the next store after I dress and purchase the skirts and tops that fit the best. This new store is not as loud or crowded and I’m grateful.

“Are you going tonight?” Serena asks Holly as we browse.

“Absolutely. If Drew’s going, I’m going.” She grins and holds a small fringed top up to her chest. “I’ll wear this.”

Jacki shakes her head, pushing the top away from Holly. “Easy Pocahontas. You’ll scare him off in that.”

I cock my head. “Do you have romantic intentions with Drew?”

Holly smirks, glancing between Jacki and Serena. “Something like that.”

Smiling, I turn to inspect a table of folded shirts. “If everything goes well, maybe I’ll get to see your wedding before Mother comes for me.”

Serena snorts loudly and I turn in time to see Jacki laugh, falling into a rack of clothes.

“We aren’t getting married, Alaina,” Holly says, her cheeks turning pink.

Frowning, I pick up one pale pink shirt and drape it over my arm to try on. “If you have romantic intentions-”

“Oh!” Jacki says, interrupting me. “I heard about that on the news.” She points at me. “They make you get married really young, don’t they?”

I shake my head. “No. We’re paired when we’re of age.”

Jacki smiles. “And what age is that?”

“Sixteen,” I say.

“Boom. There ya go.”

I glance between Serena and Holly. “Sixteen isn’t young. You’re an adult when you’re sixteen.”

Serena shakes her head and goes back to the rack she was looking at. “Not out here. Eighteen is considered legal adult. And even then, my parents waited ‘til they were done with college.”

Jacki nods. “My dad’s been married twice. The first time he was twenty and it barely lasted two years. Just long enough to have my brother. My mom’s never been married.”

“Mine was, for like ten minutes
after
she got pregnant with me. Just so her parents wouldn’t freak out,” Holly says, laughing.

I’m not sure what to say. Courting someone without intending to marry them? Waiting until you’re twenty to pair, or sometimes not pairing at all? That means that Jacki and Holly were both conceived in sin. Like me. And yet neither of them is ashamed. Serena doesn’t hold herself above them, either.

For the first time ever, I’m with people who practice what Matthew 7:1 says; they don’t judge each other. They don’t hold each other to standards that they themselves fall short of.

As ashamed as I am for thinking it, no one in Shiloh can say that. How is it that a group of sinners have managed to grasp the lesson taught at John 8:7, but an entire community of the Lord’s chosen ones continued to struggle with it?

I try on a pair of pants at a store called Old Navy after being pestered by Jacki and Serena.

“You have to buy those,” Holly says as I stand in front of the mirror. “They were made for you.”

Shaking my head, I start to unbutton them. “I can’t. Women of the Lord do not dress in men’s clothing.”

“Those aren’t men’s pants,” Jacki points out. “They’re made for women.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she has a point. “No,” I say shaking my head again. “You can see my legs. I’m fully exposed.”

Serena rolls her eyes, slumping against the dressing room doorway. “You’re not showing any skin,” she whines. “What’s the big deal?”

“You’re not a box with feet from the waist down. Stop acting like it.” Holly bats my hands away from the button on the pants. “They’re not even that tight. Be glad we didn’t make you put on skinny jeans or something.”

I look at myself in the mirror again. I barely recognize myself in these pants and a tiny part of me wonders if that’s such a bad thing. My brain struggles to justify the fact that I enjoy these pants and the way I look in them.

“You’re buying them.” Her tone tells me it’s not a request. “You’ll change your mind eventually and will be glad you have them.”

I don’t argue.

After a while, Holly announces she’s hungry and we go to the food court to take a break from looking at clothes.

“There’s Adam and Drew,” Serena says, nudging Holly.

“How’s my hair?” Holly asks, running her fingers through the ends.

Jacki pushes past her and bee-lines for a table in the middle of the crowded space. I follow her with my eyes and that’s when I see
him
. The boy from my paper route. The one with the ring in his lip and the tattoos. The one that calls me Papergirl.

I stop walking abruptly and Serena slams into me.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“What’s wrong?” She stops with me while Holly and Jacki make themselves comfortable at the table.

“I know that boy.” It comes out as a whisper. “He harasses me during my paper route. He calls me
Papergirl
.” I purposely deliver his paper last because it takes me the whole route to work up the nerve to walk up to his door. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m afraid of him and his tattoos or because of something equally as terrifying: I like the way he looks at me, even if it is just to call me Papergirl.

Serena scowls. “Who? Adam?” She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s harmless. He doesn’t mean anything by it. I mean, you
are
a papergirl.” She takes my arm, pulling me forward gently. “You should tell him your name if you don’t want him to call you Papergirl.”

Reluctantly I follow them and take a seat at the table, but I make sure it’s as far away from Adam as possible. He watches me sit down, but doesn’t say a word. That’s good. That’s what I wanted. I think.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALAINA

“Wear the jeans,” Holly says for the millionth time since we got home.

I shake my head so hard, a few strands come loose from the braid she gave me. Women of the Lord aren’t supposed to braid their hair. It’s considered showy and in direct violation of the scriptures in First Peter and First Timothy. But, it was the only way to get her to leave me alone about my hair. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I like it. Normally my hair hangs in loose brown waves and sticks to my neck in the heat. I plan to take the braid out before anyone other than Holly sees me, though.

“One time. Just tonight.” She says, applying eye makeup.

I watch her through the mirror from my seat on the edge of the tub. I can’t help but think she’s hiding something about this “church social” that she’s invited me to. She’s pressuring me at every turn to dress in pants and wear braided hair. “It’s immodest,” I say, smoothing my hands over my new green skirt.

“If jeans are immodest, then what does that make my shorts?” She sweeps gold colored powder over an eyelid.

Downright scandalous
, I want to say. I don’t. Instead I open and close my mouth a few times, determined not to upset her. “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to offend you. I only meant-”

“It’s too late,” she says. “I’m super offended. You think you’re better than me in your long skirts. I see what’s going on.” She leans closer to the mirror and puts more gold powder on her other eye making it difficult to read her expression.

Eyes wide, I say, “I’m sorry! I don’t think that at all! I really didn’t mean-”

“Wear the jeans and I’ll forgive you.”

My face crumples. “The jeans?” Knots form in my stomach.

A small part of me says it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Everyone here wears pants, or less. Would it really be so bad? And it’ll keep Holly from being mad at me or assuming I think I’m better than her. “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Just this once.”