To church.”

She had. With her parents. They’d gone as a family, sitting together. Then they’d all go out for brunch. Everyone would smile and look happy.

What a joke.

“That means it’s perfect now,” said Kara. “Do you have black tights?”

Layne did. She wore them under her riding breeches in the winter.

She took a breath. “I don’t think ”

“Just try it. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it.”

So she tried it, in the bathroom, where Kara couldn’t see her change. The black tights were opaque; not even a hint of flesh peeking through. The skirt was short, almost indecently so. The pleats barely covered her backside. But the black tights made it less hooker and more . . . playful.

Even so, the black turtleneck made her look like she was going to a funeral.

A slutty funeral.

She could never wear this.

A knock at the door shocked her out of her thoughts. “Layne!

Look what I found!”

Layne pulled the door open, and Kara gasped. “Oh, you are so wearing that.”

“No way.”

“Did you see what those other girls were wearing? For once in your life would you try to fit in?”

She remembered that feeling from the library. It would probably be dark at the party, right? Layne swallowed. “Maybe.”

“With these.” Kara held up black boots. Matte leather, a stacked two-inch heel, and laces that went all the way up.

Layne remembered those boots. She knew kids whose whole outfits didn’t cost as much as those boots. Her mom had bought them for her right before high school started. “Please, Laynie,”

she’d said. “Wear something that doesn’t look like it came from the Goodwill.”

Layne had buried them in the back of her closet.

She reached out and touched the leather. Smooth as butter.

“All right,” she whispered.

The boots, when combined with the tights and skirt, made her legs look twenty miles long.

Kara started digging through her dresser. “Too much black.

You need something here!”

She was holding out a red turtleneck. Layne rarely wore it; the fabric was thin and it clung to her body.

Not to mention, it screamed with color and demanded attention.

“Wear it,” snapped Kara.

Layne heard her father’s keys in the door.

“Now,” said Kara. She backed out the door, pulling it closed behind her. “It’s almost time to go.”

Layne yanked the shirt over her head and didn’t look in the mirror. If she did, she’d never have the courage to walk out of this house. She just threw open the door and went downstairs.

Her father took one look at her and dropped all the mail he was carrying. He coughed. “I thought you said it was a girls’

night.”

“It is!” cried Kara. “Heather is going to do Layne’s hair, and we’re going to stuff ourselves with cookies ”

“Kara, I hope you don’t think I’m a fool.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Mr. Forrest, no offense, but I don’t think you know much about girls’ nights.”

He looked at her, then back at Layne. “Maybe I should drive you.”

“Sure,” said Layne easily. Thank god they were going early.

“Then you can meet the other girls.”

It actually worked out better than she expected. Taylor and Heather were full of charm at the door, assuring her dad that Heather’s mom was going to be home from the store any minute, and did he want a cup of espresso? Taylor leaned on Layne’s shoulder and whispered loudly about never realizing she had such a sexy dad.

It was probably the first time Layne had ever seen her father blush.

“All right,” he said, jingling his keys in his pocket. “I should probably get back to Simon.”

Yeah, like he could get Simon to come out of his room. Layne stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”

When he was out the door, Taylor giggled. “Dads are so easy.”

“Please,” said Heather. “All I have to do is wiggle my ass and my dad hands me his platinum card.”

Layne almost choked. She wiggled her ass for her father?

“Your house is amazing,” Kara breathed.

It was, too. Layne never wanted for anything, but her own house was traditional, all polished wood and marble. The back wall of Heather’s house was entirely glass, looking out over an expansive pool deck, with a view of the Severn River beyond.

Torches were lit along the patio, and the sound system was on low, one of those top-forty songs that sounded like every other.

Heather shrugged. “It’s all right.”

Taylor pulled a wine cooler out of the fridge. “Want one?”

she asked, holding out something peach colored.

Kara took it immediately.

Layne shook her head. But then she didn’t want to seem bor-ing, so she said, “Not yet.”

“I hear you,” said Heather, who didn’t take one either. “I hate being trashed before everyone gets here.”

“I say what’s the difference,” said Taylor. She pointed a manicured nail at Layne. “Now you,” she said, her voice sharp, almost challenging.

Layne flinched, suddenly ready for the worst. “Me?”

“Yeah. You. Hot rollers. Now.”

CHAPTER 22

Layne sat in a darkened corner of the pool deck, wondering when she could go home.