LITMIR.BIZ

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to look casual, jeans ripped down both thighs, thumbs tucked into his back pockets. Behind him were a group of men and women, all in the same skinny jeans, all seeming to be waiting for a bus. All of them stopped typing on their phones and were now watching her to see what she would do next. None of them looked as though they were in any hurry to help.

      Jerks.

      “Oh!” Ash forced herself to smile. If he thought he was going to intimidate her, he was about to be surprised. “You want to show off for your friends! Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

      The guy’s grin dropped for a millisecond, then the smirky expression returned. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ when someone compliments you?”

      Ash continued to smile sweetly as she reached into her purse and grabbed her cell phone. “I’m so sorry for my oversight. Let me give you my number.”

      The guy looked pleased at this and turned around to make sure his audience was still rapt with attention.

      They were.

      “Smile!” Before he could react, Ash snapped a picture with her phone. “For my ‘pictures of pedophiles’ collection. You know, for that show with the undercover cops. There’s a bunch of them over there—” she head-gestured toward the Starbucks on the corner “—filming this right now. You’re about to be famous!”

      The guy’s face changed in a second. Eyes widened, mouth dropped. In an instant, he was gone. She heard his footsteps as he skidded around the corner.

      Ash blew out the breath she’d been holding—she hadn’t realized how scared she’d been till just then. She did a little curtsy for the audience at the bus stop. Most of them looked shocked; a few pantomimed applause.

      That guy was not going to be messing with her—or any other girl—for a while. She hoped, anyway.

      * * *

      Ash’s apprehensive mood vanished as soon as she set foot inside Rebel Without a Dress. There was no longer a doubt in her mind that love at first sight was actually a thing. She reached out and paused, almost afraid to touch the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. It was so perfect, it might simply disappear into thin air.

      “Melanie, that is a customer who just came in. Don’t stand there like a mannequin. Greet her. Make yourself useful,” a sharp voice cut through the angels’ choir in Ash’s head.

      Ash glanced over at the tall, basketball player–looking girl with a halo of frizz around her head who was the subject of the yelling. She looked familiar. Poor thing was now stumbling toward her after being dressed down by her boss, a pinched-nose, pale blonde woman who had a disgusted expression on her would-have-been-pretty face.

      “Hi. Hi. Sorry I didn’t come over earlier. Can I help you?” the lanky girl asked breathlessly.

      Ash smiled at her, feeling sorry for the girl for having such a nasty manager. She recognized Melanie as a sophomore who frequently loped through the hallways like an antelope, always with a surprised expression on her face. She was a cute girl and would be enviably graceful and willowy once she grew into her long limbs. Ash was always envious of tall people—the one thing she would never be able to accomplish.

      Melanie grinned back as she watched Ash lift the hanger off the rack and hug it close. “Would you like to try it on?”

      “I would like to marry it.” Ash twirled the orange silk dress around in the air. “God, it’s beautiful.”

      “I’ll open you a dressing room. We only got that one in two sizes, the one you have there and...huge. I’ll make sure no one else gets to see it before you.”

      Ash handed it over and made the rounds of the store, halfheartedly sorting through generic-looking dresses and accessories, occasionally stopping to make sure no one else was going into her dressing room. She was not letting the Dreamsicle, as she’d already deemed the dress, out of her sight.

      “You’re going with Armstrong Jones, right?” Melanie was back at her side in an instant. “God, you’re so lucky. I love his blog. And his podcast. Is he really that funny?”

      “Yes, he’s amazing.” Ash couldn’t help but feel smug. Yes, yes, yes, she was going with Armstrong Jones, their school’s star blogger and podcaster. His series on observations of society was so hilarious that local colleges had started asking him to blog for them, as well. Plus, he was incredibly hot in that skinny-on-purpose kind of way.

      It had taken him four years to notice her. She was determined not to lose his interest on prom night, when his sensors would be in full gear looking for material for his blog. That gorgeous orange dress waiting for her in the dressing room would hopefully ensure that. She wanted the contents of his blog cynically recapping the prom to be vague because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her the whole evening.

      “Melanie! Why are you just standing there like a statue in the garden of good and evil? Bring her other options!” The painfully thin voice of Melanie’s boss barked more orders. “What is the matter with you? Move faster!”

      Jeez, this manager was horrible. Plus, every time she screamed, Ash jumped as though she were committing a crime.

      Before Melanie could start pushing things Ash didn’t want to see anyway, Ash charged straight toward the dressing room, pausing at the checkout counter where Melanie’s boss was poring over a catalog.

      “I just wanted to say—” Ash gave the manager her sweetest smile “—I love that this store kind of just lets you shop. I hate when salespeople follow you around like you’re about to steal something. Or trying to make you buy tie-dyed Ugg boots or something to drive up commission. That’s so insulting.”

      The blonde supervisor didn’t even look up from what she was reading.

      “You should give Melanie a raise or something. She helped me find the best dress ever,” Ash prodded.

      Still nothing.

      Wow. Poor Melanie. This job must pay well, at least.

      Ash shot a sympathetic glance at Melanie and she ducked into her dressing room. She was so excited to try on the dress that she started to shed her ’50s-style polka-dot dress into a ball even before fully closing the door behind her. She slipped the silky dreaminess of the Dreamsicle over her shoulders and watched it flutter to the ground.

      It was lovely.

      It made her look fun and regal at once—a difficult achievement when one was not quite five foot two inches, and in laceless Skechers at that. The color made her light olive skin glow. Her new Bettie Page bangs over her shoulder-length bob went elegantly with the dress’s strapless neckline.

      The dress had a dropped-waist bodice and a hem that stopped at mid-thigh in the front. In the back was a long, drapey train that fluttered every time Ash moved. The Dreamsicle was a glorious tangerine peacock.

      The pièce de résistance was a series of boomerang-shaped cutouts all up and down both sides that showed off Ash’s midsection, which she usually never thought much about. The ten years of tae kwon do her father had insisted on were finally paying off for something. Other than the defending of the small and nerdy, of course.

      She couldn’t believe she actually felt...pretty. Not just “kind of cute.” But actually pretty. She almost squealed when she looked at her reflection again.

      She quickly texted her neighbor and best friend, Sebastian, who’d accompanied Ash’s mom to the bookstore down the street. Mission accomplished. Come see. Bring Mom.

      Ash did a spin to the latest beat pulsating through the dressing room and stared at herself some more. She wanted Armstrong Jones to look at her as though he was looking at a vintage record from 1970. Would this dress do the trick? She was sure she’d be the only girl at the prom in it.

      For weeks, Ash had worried she wouldn’t find a dress that was cool, fun, unusual and most of all, unforgettable. All the things Armstrong was...and thought

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