The three dots appeared and disappeared for a long time. I sat on her carpet and watched them, wondering what he could possibly do with a list of cruelties less than two weeks before a dance. Burn them, maybe. Read them and grieve. I had not sent them with a plan. I had sent them because I could not hold them alone.
When his reply finally came, it was only one line. Some of these I already knew. Thank you for the rest.
Then, a minute later: I know what to do with them.
I stared at that second message until the screen went dark. Of course he knew. He had been her best friend through all of it. He had seen the hallways I had only heard rumors of. He had been building the gown’s bones already. Now he had found its heart.
On the morning of day six, I made the mistake of calling the shoe store from the kitchen.
