“Such a shame. Clothes like this are really made for a certain figure, aren’t they.”
“I suppose that depends on who’s wearing them,” I said quietly.
She smiled without any warmth. “Of course, dear. I only meant it’s a waste to buy something so lovely if you fill it out in all the wrong places.”
I held my breath and said nothing.
“Clothes like this are really made for a certain figure.”
“Dinner’s at seven,” she added brightly, as if she hadn’t just sharpened a knife. “Don’t be late.”
Then she was gone, her perfume lingering like a warning.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the dress.
Dylan came in a minute later, whistling, oblivious.
“See? She’s being nice. This is going to be a good week.”
“Dylan, she just insulted me in my own bedroom.”
Then she was gone,
“She compliments in a weird way. That’s just Mom.”
