We decided to spend the rest of the day at the mall, inviting some other kids from school. Dasha and Andrey, Artur, and Stas's sisters joined our group. The conversations about the supernatural stopped in the presence of ordinary, "human" kids, and I finally got a brief respite from the heavy thoughts about what would happen to me next. I think the others needed a break too. Everyone except Max, it seemed: he stayed home to look after Nik while his father was away. Viola hadn't smiled once during the whole meeting, studying the contents of her cup with interest, while Artur lingered pale and shadowy beside her. Diana handled herself best, stretching her lips into a sweet smile in front of everyone, though she, too, remained mostly quiet.
A faint hope that I might eventually reverse Vladimir's transformation glimmered inside me. So, after persuading the girls and leaving the boys to wander by the arcade machines in the basement, I went to look at dresses for the Christmas ball.
Diana took obvious pleasure in directing the process, slapping our hands every time Dasha or I reached for a hanger with a shade she called "unsuitable for our face tones." Soon, each of us had chosen four pretty dresses. Our group took over all the fitting rooms, showing off our new looks to each other, with Diana trying to complement them with the store's jewelry.
"No, this definitely won't do," she commented, eyeing a turquoise lace dress with a satin belt. "It looks too flashy on you, and it hides your figure more than it flatters it. Take it off and let Dasha try it. With her height, it will fit differently and look much more natural."
If Diana had a cure for any sorrow, its name was shopping.
"But I like the lavender one..." Dasha tried to protest cautiously, but she was met with a scorching look that one couldn't help but obey.
I obediently returned to the fitting room and pulled the dress over my head, then called Diana and asked her to pass it to Dasha. My turn left me with a narrow dress in a delicate milky shade, shimmering with thousands of sparkling grains in the light, as if woven from desert dunes. I would never have tried a long-sleeved dress with an open back down to the waist if Diana hadn't insisted. But there was no avoiding it, and to prevent a possible quarrel, I reluctantly stepped inside. Though it seemed dense at first, the dress wrapped around me like a second skin. Very soon, I managed to zip up the long side zipper and step out to the girls:
"I told you it wouldn't suit me," I muttered as I left the fitting room, fully aware that such dresses were meant for beautiful adult women, whose youthful softness had long faded. This dress was for a wild yet magnificent swan—something I, the ugly duckling, would never become.
Waiting for a final verdict, it took a few minutes of silence before I realized the look of admiration on Diana and Violetta's faces. Very quickly, Dasha joined them, so astonished that she covered her mouth with her hand.
"Asya! It's absolutely stunning!"
I skeptically examined my reflection in the full-length mirror at the end of the hall and found nothing to marvel at. Yes, the dress looked amazing by itself, but it seemed to wear me rather than the other way around.
"Just look at it!" Diana came up from behind and gently touched my shoulders, urging me closer to the mirror. "If there is a 'perfect' dress, this is definitely it! Take it without thinking."
"I don't even know..." I half-turned, trying to see how the back looked in the deep cut, but I hardly understood anything.
"Wait, I'll take a photo!" Diana immediately pulled out her phone and stepped back a few steps so the photo would capture a full-length image. "Look."
The back looked more interesting than the simple front, yet my already pale skin seemed to blend with the milky shade of the dress, making it appear as if the fabric wasn't even there.
"I feel naked in it," I said embarrassed, instantly wrapping my arms around myself as if I really were bare. "Right, Dasha?"
"Well..." she drew out thoughtfully, giving herself time to choose her words. "I think it's really beautiful and suits you."
"Can we even wear this to the school ball? It's so adult!" I continued, not sure whom I was trying to convince: myself or the girls.
But they were adamant, praising the dress in unison. Even Viola, always so quiet, casually complimented it, briefly concluding that I couldn't find a better one.
"If you don't buy it now, you'll regret it until graduation."
"Fine. There'll be time to think. And it's more appropriate for graduation anyway. What would the teachers even think? Dresses like this should be sold like beer—only with ID."
"Such a bore," Diana said, rolling her eyes, and then gave up: "Fine. Don't want it, don't buy it. But don't cry later!"
"Okay," I smiled, more amused by how Diana struggled to pronounce "bore," tripping over the hissing sound. To me, it sounded more like a compliment than an insult, though I didn't rule out that it had more to do with Diana herself, who never meant me harm, unlike Tatyana, who suddenly appeared in the store looking as if everyone owed her.
"Oh, Tanya! Hi," I said nonchalantly, stretching my lips into a smile, feeling uncomfortable as I noticed Rostova stiffen like a string and stride toward me.
"Well, you, Black One, you really outdo yourself," Tatyana said, clearly restraining her anger, pressing her lips together after every word. "Are you trying to steal my friends too?"
"Us? Friends?" Viola shot her a haughty look. "No way."
Swinging her hips, Violetta headed to the register, while Dasha and Diana, sensing trouble, quickly retreated, leaving me alone with the enraged harpy.
"I'll come by for you tomorrow before the institute," Diana said gently, leaving, giving a last apologetic look, as if to say Rostova wasn't her problem.
"Do people only get to socialize with you? Or maybe only in your presence?" I began gathering the dresses in the fitting room.
"No, of course not, I'm not a tyrant. But inviting everyone to pick a dress for the ball without me—that's mean, Asya. Very mean."
"Tanya, it just happened spontaneously. No secret plot. Stas and I stopped by for cocoa, and he suggested we gather the others, and then..."
"Wha-a-at?" Tatyana dragged the word, almost in ultrasound. The shout hit my ears painfully, and I instinctively raised my hands to my head to at least dull the nasty vibrations. Why does power always intensify at the worst possible moment? If only taste got stronger while drinking cocoa, not this.
"What's wrong?"
"I told you to stay away from Stas," Rostova threateningly pointed at me like it was a gun.
"I thought you saw perfectly well at the hospital how we became friends and cooled off."
"No, I didn't! Friendship between a guy and a girl doesn't happen."
"Doesn't happen, you say? Tanya, double standards."
"Explain yourself."
"When I hang out with Stas, it's 'friendship between a guy and a girl doesn't exist,' but when you comforted Nik, it was fine."
"It was different with Nikita! He needed support, by the way, because of your meanness. Dumping a guy by text—how low can you go!"
"And did she support you? How many times did you kiss?"
Tatiana stiffened like a drawn string, her arms stretched straight along her sides. She clenched her fists fiercely, and for a moment I even thought her shoulders shook, and she was about to lunge at me.
"How dare you?" she shouted, almost crying. "I only wanted to help Karimov. Nothing happened! Who do you take me for?"
"And who do you take me for?" I asked deliberately calmly, though a fire raged inside me, as if tongues of Tatiana's fury touched me, igniting the darkness within that had been waiting for a chance to burst out. It was searching for a suitable victim, and she was here, within arm's reach. All that remained was to bare my teeth. Tear through the fabric barrier and reach the soft, juicy flesh.
I recoiled, suddenly realizing what I had been thinking. What the hell was that?