CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AMELIA USED TO THINK THE mall just outside Sand Lake was enormous. It definitely seemed huge when she was a kid and she used to get her annual picture taken on Santa’s lap. But over the years, it’s as if the place has shrunk.
There are just enough stores to do a halfway decent back-to-school shopping trip: a Gap, a Macy’s, a Victoria’s Secret, a Sephora. But most girls in their senior class ordered their prom dresses online.
In Molly Meade’s day, this wasn’t here. Amelia’s not sure what was. Probably just a field. The shops were all on Main Street. Molly bought a dress for her high school graduation at a place called Blauner’s. It’s now a Dollar Store. Miller’s Pharmacy, now a Rite Aid, is where she’d buy cosmetics. One of the only places Molly wrote about that is still around is Corbet Jewelers, which is across the street from the post office, but Amelia almost never sees anyone going in and out of there.
She and Cate take the escalator down into the basement of Macy’s with two coupons Cate clipped for them out of last Sunday’s newspaper. There’s already a sale going on for practically everything in the home department, but these coupons, Cate informs her, will give them an extra 20 percent off on new comforters for their dorm rooms.
Amelia feels oddly adult, surrounded by KitchenAid mixers, stacks of silver baking sheets, rows of decorative vases.
“This is cute, isn’t it?” Cate says, pulling out a clear plastic bag with a pale yellow floral comforter stuffed inside. She turns it over, then puts it back. “Ideally, I want a whole look. Sheets, comforter, bed skirt, pillow sham. What about you?”
“I’m just going to get a comforter.” Amelia knows she sounds glum, but she’s dreading the thought of having to confront Cate about her parents’ experience at the stand.
“Don’t. Get a matching set, like me! It’ll make your side of the dorm room look so much more pulled together.” Cate laughs. “Though wait. You’ll probably want to run your picks by Cece.”
“Who’s Cece?”
“Cecilia. Your roommate at Gibbons. Did you ever hear back from her?”
Amelia gasps. “Oh my God, Cate. I never wrote her back. I meant to, when you told me all those weeks ago!” It’s crazy, how fast time is flying. It’s practically August.
“Amelia!” Cate scolds. She grabs Amelia by the hand and drags her over to the mattress section so they can sit. “You are so worried about the ice cream stand, you aren’t paying attention to what really matters. What if she asks for a transfer and you get stuck with some weirdo who never showers?”
Amelia pulls out her phone and searches for Cecilia’s email. “I just don’t know what to say. She wrote this whole long thing about herself.”
Cate holds out her hand and Amelia passes her phone over. After reading the message, Cate says, “I’ll do it for you.”
“Okay.”
Cate narrates as she types. “Hey Cecilia. Thanks so much for getting us the fridge. I will totally handle the microwave, no problem. Sorry for not writing sooner. My summer job is madness—I’ll tell you all about it in a few weeks. Anyway, a little about me—I’m undeclared right now, no boyfriend (What can I say? I like keeping my options open) . . .”
At this, Amelia tries to take her phone back. “Don’t write that!”
“Why?” Cate says, swatting her hand away. “Because of Grady?”
Amelia’s whole body goes cold. “No. Why would you say that?”
“Chill, I’m kidding.”
As Cate continues typing, Amelia realizes that, should Grady randomly happen to text her, the fact that she’s been hiding him from her best friend will blow up in her face.
Cate narrates the rest of her email. “Also, not sure what the style is yet of our dorm room, but if it’s bunk beds, can I claim the bottom? I have this thing with heights.”
“I don’t have a thing with heights. At least, I don’t think I do.”
Cate shrugs. “She seemed a little alpha in her last email. I want to push back on that a bit. I don’t want her thinking she can railroad you. Plus, trust me, no one wants the top bunk.”
“Fine,” Amelia says, anxious, and then takes her phone back.
Cate settles on a bed-in-a-bag, white with a blue ikat pattern, embellished with little blue tassels sewn around the edges. She buys a second set of sheets and a throw pillow.
Amelia ends up with a solid pink comforter made special by little ribbons of chenille sewn across it. She can’t find the matching sheets, but the saleswoman says they’re available online.
They’re in the food court when Amelia finally summons the courage to ask Cate about the stand. The stand matters too much to her to let things slide any more.
“Did you happen to see my parents yesterday? They stopped by the stand.”
“Oh yeah? I must have missed them.”
“Yeah, they said the lines were super long,” Amelia says, fingering the straw in her fountain Coke. “Like, longer than usual. Sounds like it was a little . . . chaotic.” She’s hedging, trying not to sound accusatory, giving Cate some room.
“It is chaotic. Grady’s making a total mess of the place playing handyman. All his hammering and sawing. I had to throw out a huge vat of waffle cone batter because there was sawdust in it. I don’t know why he doesn’t just hire someone.”
“I think he’s enjoying the work.”
“Well, he’s making my life incredibly difficult.”
Something rises in her. The desire to hold Cate accountable. “I totally get how that would be annoying,” Amelia couches. “But I’m worried it isn’t just a Grady problem.” At this, Cate groans, and it almost derails Amelia from continuing. “I . . . I know you want the girls to have fun while they work. But it’s a job, too.”
Cate dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “I don’t want to talk about the stand with you.”
“But Cate . . .”
“I’ve caught you secretly looking over the stuff I do like a hundred times. And whenever you come down to the stand, I feel like you always find something negative to focus on, instead of how much better things are, how much happier everyone is.”
Amelia sits back. She can’t defend herself against Cate’s charge, because it’s true. And Cate doesn’t even give her the chance.
Cate begins gathering her unfinished meal and places it on her tray. “If you didn’t want me to be Head Girl, why did you tell Grady I should be promoted? Why did you give me your pin?”
Amelia bites her lip. She never actually said that to Grady. That was his idea, a way to smooth the ruffled feathers of their relationship. And it worked, at least temporarily. But the promotion clearly didn’t solve their problems. Things are still weird between them.
“Forget it,” Cate says. “I wanted to have a fun day with you.”
“I did too!” Amelia calls out as Cate walks toward the trash can.
Instead of catching up to her, Amelia lets Cate walk ahead of her at a slight distance.
She was already anxious about the future. Now she’s dreading it.