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bothered.
                  “How about this dress?” she asked me, pulling out a green bit of fabric off the rack.
                  I cringed. “I’m not going for the hooker look, Mom.” And even if I did, I highly doubted there was a high market for scar-faced hookers to boot.
                  Her mouth dropped. “It’s not that bad.”
                  “It’s not that good either.”
                  She laughed and put the dress back. We browsed for a while before I found a black mini-dress with a lace back. I tried it on in the dressing room, expecting to hate it once I looked at myself in the mirror. To my surprise, it fit like a glove. I spun around, wincing a little at the bones jutting out of my shoulder blades. I’d never been this slim before, and it didn’t suit me very much, especially upon learning my boob size had gone down dramatically – and I was never gifted in size to begin with.
                  “Can I see how the dress looks on you?” Mom asked from through the door.
                  “No,” I answered.
                  “Please?”
                  “Not yet. Still seeing how it fits.”
    She poked her head through the gap under the dressing room door and gasped at me. “You look incredible! I’m buying it. You’re getting it.”
    I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. Not wanting her to get everyone in the store’s attention with her peeping tom behaviour, I unlocked the door and pushed it open. She hurried in and smiled brightly at me.
    “I don’t look too skinny in this?” I asked, eyeing my body in the mirror.
                  “You do look a little malnourished, Claire, but it’s better than that baggy crap you’ve been wearing.”
                  I nodded. “I guess.”
                  She skimmed her eyes up and down my body, looking more thoughtful as the moments passed. “So, is there a boy I should know about?”
                  I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”
                  She shrugged, running a hand through her long hair. “I’m just asking! I’m curious to know why you’re suddenly wanting to go out and get dressy.”
                  “It’s Emily’s fault,” I half-lied. “She made me pick a dare card.”
                  Mom groaned in dismay. “Please tell me you’re not going to run around naked again! I had enough complaints the last time.”
                  I let out a soft laugh at the memory of one of our neighbours Miss Tetley (withered with age and carrying rosary beads wherever she went) knocking on our door to complain about my ungodly mannerism. “Your child’s strayed from the lord, Mrs Landon,” she’d droned in a hushed tone, unaware I was nearby. “I would do something quick about it before she’s lost to sin forever!”
    I shook off that memory with a silly grin and said, “No, Mom. It said to go out and party, hence the dress.”
                  Mom nodded, but I spotted the shadow of concern in her eyes. “Do you know where you’ll be going?”
                  “No bars,” I assured her. “I won’t be drinking. Believe me.”
                  She looked relieved. “Okay, that’s very good. I just want you to make smart decisions. I know I wasn’t… you know… around to be a better parent to you when you needed me the most, and I sound silly to be telling you to watch out now because of it –”
                  “Mom, none of it was your fault,” I interrupted her, solemnly. I stared at our reflection, keeping my eyes pinned to hers earnestly. “I was out of control. It wasn’t your doing.”
                  She nodded again, this time swallowing back a lump in her throat. Looking away, she sniffed and said, “How about you invite Miles out with