“I really—” I started to say, but his eyes were fully closed. I stared at him in the dark and watched his face relax, feature by feature. His eyes stopped swirling behind his eyelids, and I felt myself drawn to sleep as I watched him unwind before my eyes. I drifted off, not caring that I was away from my bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The morning came fast. I had dreamed about my brother, his face bloodied in an alleyway. Our dad calmly talking to a deputy of some sort, myself crying, and Kael was there. We were in another place, a foreign one that I knew I have never seen. It was weird and obviously not realistic, but it stuck in my head as I got ready to leave for the grocery store. Kael was nowhere in sight when I woke up at the table, the sun filling the room. Elodie was still asleep on the couch, lying on her side now and looking much more comfortable than she had before. I skipped showering because I just couldn’t deal with the water going in and out today; it was already going to be busy enough. I did my hygiene regimen, including the skin care I’m trying to get a handle on. That’s part of growing up, isn’t it?

I threw on a navy-blue dress that Elodie bought me when she went to Atlanta with her group of Army wife friends. It was short, but not too short, and had five little fake pearl buttons going down the center of my bust. They were fake buttons and the dress had pockets. Peak Karina happiness when it comes to fashion in one dress. I’d worn it only once, when I tried it on, and now that I was wearing it in my room, my waves took wonderfully to the dry shampoo and were less frizzy than they normally are, and my skin wasn’t peeling from overexfoliating. I looked . . . cute. Pretty, even. Pretty cute?

The dress was a little tight around my hips but not too bad. The skirt was the ideal length. It had thin straps that tied on my shoulders, making it perfectly adjustable. I covered as much of my cleavage as I could, but I also sort of liked the way the top of the dress was shaped, like half an oval, dipping down into the roundness of my chest. The thin cotton was so soft and fell against my hips and flared out at my thighs in little creases, like a cheerleading skirt, but more stylish. I smiled at my reflection and I wished I could bottle this little moment of love for my body and save it for the next time that I really, really needed it—like when I order an outfit online or, even worse, try on clothes for an hour at the mall and leave with nothing but resentment for my body and myself.