I didn't see Brandon much during that week. It wasn't like I could talk to him much at school, where Felicia and the others could catch us anytime; and in the afternoon I was either busy with homework or hanging out with the girls. And by the girls, I meant Felicia's squad as well as Sunday, with Dan sometimes joining in when he wasn't busy with the volleyball team.

And—it was okay, really. I didn't know him well enough to miss him yet, although I was definitely looking forward to the next time we could hang out one-on-one. So I was already counting down days to the weekend, and I was all the more put out when Felicia made other plans with the rest of us.

"It's been, like, ages since our last free weekend," she declared, obviously meaning the cheerleaders of the group. "Who else wants to make it a girls' day?"

"Me!" Louie exclaimed, visibly excited, and Chelsea gave a silent but energetic nod. Then three pairs of eyes landed on me, questioning and expectant.

"Uh…" I didn't want to, I'd rather see Brandon again, but it wasn't like I could say that without spilling our secret. "Sure? It sounds nice!"

"Excellent." Felicia tented her fingers together. "We should totally go shopping, we haven't in forever. We need to show Pearl where the good shops are, right, ladies?"

Glad to find an easy out, I lifted an apologetic hand. "Wait," I said. "Are these shops…expensive? Because I…don't exactly have a lot of money."

Felicia looked at me like I had just said the stupidest thing known to mankind, if not the whole universe.

"Girl," she said patiently, "shopping is not about buying things. That's literally the least important part of shopping."

I stared blankly. "O…kay?"

"You'll see," she said, flipping her hair and smiling that little smile that meant she was up to something. "Just come with us, okay? Good." She sat back. "And after that, we're having a sleepover."

Brandon, I'm so sorry, I whispered over and over in my head. I'd rather spend time with you too. Please don't be mad.

~ ~ ~

Brandon was mad.

"You're writing me off to go shopping?" he snapped for what felt like the third time in this short conversation. "And a sleepover! A stupid sleepover with the stupid cheerleaders!"

Tensing, I backed away, trying not to think of the way he towered over me, the barely-repressed rage on his face, the smoldering aggression behind. "I already said I'm sorry," I said, my voice small but frustrated. "I'd rather spend the time with you too, but—"

"Then cancel on them!" Brandon's voice was a loud, angry bark, and I flinched. "If you really like me better, make up an excuse and call off!"

I swallowed. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Say you have a family emergency or whatever!" Brandon's eyes flashed. "If you cared, you'd come up with something!"

"That's not fair!"

My voice cracked, rising in pitch along with my rising panic and frustration. "You're standing here—pressuring me—I can't come up with anything under pressure!" Brandon's eyes narrowed dangerously, but I braved on. "Felicia's smart, she's going to know I'm lying! I can cancel next time—make up an excuse—whatever! But if I try to cancel now…" My voice shrank down again, turning into something helpless and small. "She's going to figure it out."

"Oh, next time, huh."

Stepping into my space, Brandon pushed me backwards against the wall, leaning into me until I could feel his breath on my skin. "So I'm just supposed to sit here," he growled, "watch them turn a good, down-to-earth girl into a brainless, fashion-obsessed bimbo, and wait for next time."

His eyes were so close, close enough for me to make out the specks of gold in the shadowy sea-green, but I couldn't stand their gaze on me. Shrinking against the wall, I looked down and finally closed my eyes.

"Pearl, look at me!" A large hand grabbed my face, forcing it back around. "Is that what I'm supposed to do? Wait and watch them change you?" He almost spat out the last words. "Answer me, Pearl!"

"They're…" My voice came out raspy and shaky, and I swallowed. "I'm…not going to change. That fast." I tried to smile and failed. "Brandon, please, I…I'm going to think of something next time, okay? If Felicia finds out, I—she's never going to let me see you again and you know it!"

Brandon stared at me in disbelief. "And you'd let her?"

I froze.

This isn't right, a small voice whispered in the back of my head. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He should be…protecting me, I didn't know, something. Anything that wasn't this, that wasn't shaming me for being afraid of Felicia finding out about our—whatever it was—when keeping it a secret had been Brandon's idea in the first place.

But I didn't say any of that. Instead I said, "You know her. Felicia would make me let her."

I had honestly thought this would make Brandon see reason, I really had. But all I got in return was a flash of green eyes, bony hands clenching into fists against the wall, his arms trapping me in my spot, unable to run.

"So you're not even trying to fight her?" he spat, and I flinched. "You're just giving up, huh." His face contorted into a joyless grimace of a smirk. "Didn't think you'd be a coward."

With that he pushed himself off the wall and stormed off, leaving me alone in the street behind the school, startled and angry and blinking back tears.

Part of me wanted to run after him and apologize, make up some stupid excuse about why I couldn't go with the girls on the weekend and then spend the whole time with him. The other part of me was so furious it urged me to go with the girls and not speak a single word to Brandon all weekend, just to spite him.

As I calmed down, I decided I didn't want to see anyone at all this weekend—Brandon or Felicia.

But I had agreed already, and I couldn't think of an excuse, so of course I had to go with the girls anyway.

~ ~ ~

I still wasn't in a good mood when I joined Felicia and the others in her car, ready to be taken to whatever place they wanted to show me this time. Brandon and I hadn't spoken a word since our argument, and I couldn't be in any less of a mood to hang out and have fun with friends. I hadn't even told Sunday about any of this, because I had a feeling she'd agree with Brandon, and that was the last thing I needed right now.

For the entire drive I was silent in the backseat, not paying attention to the conversation Louie, Felicia and Chelsea were having. I only nodded and smiled when they addressed me directly, and the next moment I was spaced out again. Then Felicia pulled up into the parking lot of the newest, shiniest mall I had ever seen, and for a moment I forgot about my angry, gloomy thoughts.

"Come on, Pearl! Up with your head," Felicia said as she motioned for us to follow. "It's time for some costume theater."

"What?" I asked as I hurried after the others. An automatic door opened for us, and I found the inside of the mall just as flawless as the outside. Everything was new and shiny and clean, popular brand stores alternating with smaller labels where everything was carefully and individually crafted. Ahead of us a food court stretched out, spacious and promising, just like the entire rest of this place.

"Felicia," Chelsea asked quietly, looking around. "Where do we go first?"

Felicia pursed her lips, considering, then pointed to one of the smaller stores. "That one!"

We entered, and for a second I felt like I had walked out of the shiny mall straight into a sugar-and-spice fairy world.

"Okay," I said, starting to get intrigued despite everything. "Now what was that about costume theater?"

A delighted smile spread over Felicia's face, and she yanked me at random into one of the aisles. "Listen," she said. "The fun part about shopping isn't the buying stuff. It's trying stuff on."

I nodded slowly, trying to follow her train of thoughts. "Okay?"

"Like, you can wear literally anything." Felicia gestured around us. "You can try out the craziest new styles, 'cause it's not like you have to buy it and wear it forever. And hey," she added, "if you, like, find something that does turn out to be you, you can still buy it."

Try out styles. No judgment, no pressure, except from the other three.

Chelsea experimentally put on a fedora, pulling it low into her face. "I'm a nice guy," she said in a deep, fake-masculine voice. "Why won't women appreciate me?"

Felicia and Louie shrieked. "No! No!" Felicia shouted, forming a cross with her fingers and holding it out in front of her like a talisman. "Get away! God, Chel, that was horrifying!"

Satisfied, Chelsea put down the fedora. I tilted my head to the side, considering. "It suited you, though," I remarked.

Chelsea stared at me like I had made an especially terrible joke. "Me?" she asked. "A fedora?"

"It's true, though," Louie mused. "It went well with your face shape. And your style." She motioned to Chelsea's outfit, which, as usual, could best be described as smart casual.

Hesitating, Chelsea put it on again. Turned from side to side, frowning. Her eyes rested heavily on Felicia, waiting for her to approve or disapprove.

"It does suit you," Felicia remarked. "I think I know what you need with that."

Motioning for us to wait for her, she disappeared into the depths of the shop and finally returned with a white button shirt and black vest to match the black hat. "Try those with it."

Chelsea frowned, but disappeared into the changing rooms anyway. When she returned, I could see what Felicia had meant: she looked absolutely dashing, more handsome than pretty, the crisp white of the shirt popping against the light brown of her skin. She looked even less curvy than she normally did, but the androgynous silhouette worked marvelously with her lean, athletic build.

"You look amazing!" I said as Louie nodded excitedly and Felicia smirked in approval. "No, really—it looks gorgeous!"

Chelsea looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm not sure what to think," she admitted.

"Not sure? Girl, you're going to turn so many heads in this," Felicia replied, crossing her arms. "No pressure to buy it, but, like, I think it's a waste if you don't."

Chelsea figdeted with her sleeves. "Turn whose heads?" she muttered. "It's not like guys like—"

"Girls' heads," Felicia said flatly, already moving on to the nearest rack to inspect it for anything interesting. "Duh."

Chelsea's eyes went wide, and for a second she looked truly and genuinely panicked. Then, without a word, she turned away and went back to the changing rooms.

We went through the whole shop from there, and then another one. Felicia ended up transforming into a punk just for the hell of it, and I found a horribly sparkly sequinned party dress for Louie that looked fantastic on her but wasn't her style at all. But I myself didn't try anything on. There were some things I wanted to try, of course, beautiful, delicate things with frills and lace and ruffles, but I didn't have the courage to take any of them off the rack.

I thought I had succeeded at staying in the background and playing a supporting role until Louie grabbed my arm and said, "Now you try something, Pearl!"

I let out a small, startled squeak. "Me?" I sputtered, trying to wriggle free from her grasp. "But—"

"Nope, no excuses," Felicia declared, went off again and reappeared a few minutes later holding a flowy light pink top with lace and ribbon details. I'd been eyeing it just a minute ago, but hadn't had the courage to try it on and find I looked stupid in it. "Here."

I stared at her, then at the shirt, then back at her. "I…" I finally managed out, wide-eyed. "How did you know I—"

"Girl, you were literally staring at it for minutes." Felicia shoved the top into my hands. "Just try it already!"

Hesitant but nudged forward by the others, I stepped into one of the changing rooms, taking off my boring T-shirt and carefully slipping into the top. Felicia had gotten it in the right size, I realized as I marveled at the way it fell over my body, all soft flowing fabric and intricate details and all the things I had thought I couldn't possibly pull off.

Taking a deep breath, I stuck out my head from behind the curtain. Louie motioned impatiently for me to come out, and I did, suddenly self-conscious and feeling like the entire shop was staring at me at once.

"Pearl," Felicia said in a tone that didn't betray what she was thinking. Then her eyes lit up, and she added, "You. Look. Amazing."

A shy, nervous smile spread all over my face. "I feel amazing too," I admitted seconds before Louie knocked into me from the side, squealing about how cute my shirt was and how cute I was in it. "I might just buy it—oh."

My eyes had landed on the price tag, and my heart sank. It was beautiful, but there was no way I could possibly afford it on my budget.

Felicia exchanged a glance with Louie, then with Chelsea. "You look so good in pastels," she said. "Change back and give it to me. I think I have a plan."

Helpless, I watched as Felicia disappeared with the top in her hand, then returned with it a few minutes later, except now it was in a bag and missing the price tag. "There," she said. "Now you can put it back on."

I took a step back, my face heating up as I thought of my hopelessly empty wallet and how I could never, ever hope to pay her back. "You shouldn't have!"

Felicia rolled her eyes. "Girl," she said, "I've literally never seen you look happier in anything, ever. I'd have to be crazy not to do this for you." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and motioned for the changing rooms. "Are you changing back or not?"

I still felt guilty, and indebted, and all kinds of weird. But I was also grateful, overwhelmingly grateful, and it was true that I had never felt better—prettier—in anything I'd worn in years and years.

And it was weird, but when I walked out of the store wearing the new shirt, I couldn't help feeling a little more like myself.