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She looked at me oddly as I approached her.

“Whose ride is that?” she asked. The look on her face . . . it was like she thought I’d stolen it or something.

“It’s my friend’s car,” I said vaguely and defensively. “I’m just borrowing it for the day.”

“Wow. Nice. Where’d you meet this friend?”

I sighed. I really wished she hadn’t seen it. “Long story. Let’s shop. What kind of outfit are you looking for?”

We shopped for hours and Michelle bought at least five dresses. I just bought one outfit to wear that night. It was a fitted beige crop top and a low-slung beige and pink plaid, pleated skirt. It was cute, and it would drive Carter mad when he saw me come home in it. Childish but satisfying.

“That’s so hot,” Michelle told me when I tried it on. “Who are you trying to impress?”

I rolled my eyes. “No one at this party,” I said cryptically.

“Your shoes even work with it,” she pointed out.

I looked down. The Mary Janes were just right.

“You’re really into the pleated skirt look right now, huh? You’d think you’d get enough of that with the school uniforms every day, but it does look good on you. Want to get ready at my house?”

That was my favorite thing about Michelle. No matter what mood I was in she never picked up on it and she talked endlessly through every awkward silence. It made me feel almost like a normal teenager for a minute. “I’d love that,” I told her.

When I was paying I could tell she was checking out the card I was using, but she didn’t openly ask, and I wasn’t going to volunteer any information about why I suddenly wasn’t so short on funds.

We took her old Honda Civic to her house instead of my Porsche, and she said she’d drop me off back at the Porsche after the party.

“Whose credit card are you using?” she asked me about five minutes into the drive.

I sighed. “It’s not a credit card. It’s a bank card. I opened up an account.”

She was quiet for a bit. “Where’s the money coming from? Do you have a sugar daddy or something?”

I laughed and she laughed with me, but when I thought about it, really, she wasn’t that far off.

We did each other’s makeup, heavy liner, too much glitter, and dark, dark red lips, Michelle chatting all the while, catching me up on the gossip I’d never asked for.

We did our hair in messy space buns. Mine was too thick, so we left the back half down in a waterfall against my back, buns in front.

Michelle had thin, light brown hair so I captured all of it easily into two small buns.

She fussed over mine, telling me she wished she had my hair.

“I wish I had yours,” I returned. “I can’t even put all of mine up. It’s too thick.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m so sad for you. Let’s get dressed.”

I changed in her bathroom and came back out. Michelle was on her phone, frowning.

“It’s only five,” she said sullenly, “and I guess no one’s at the party yet. We should wait. We don’t want to get there first.”

I shrugged. “I don’t care either way.”

She was still looking at her phone and suddenly brightened. “Maddie and Kris want to meet for dinner first. Let’s go.”

That worked. I didn’t care if we ever made it to the party. Not thinking about what Carter was doing, instead dressing up and acting like a teenager for the day, had been good enough for me.

We met up with Maddie and Kris at a local pizza place. They both seemed surprised but happy to see me.