21
THE NEXT MORNING, Shelly opened the door to Ivy’s bedroom. “Still want to go shopping this morning?”
“Either that or I’m wearing what I have on to the party tonight,” Ivy replied. She wore her usual scuffed running shoes—not that she had run in years—along with blue jeans and a plain white shirt she’d bought years ago at J. Crew or Gap. She couldn’t remember which shop, except that it had probably been on clearance.
Shelly grimaced. “Can’t let that happen. Twenty minutes and we’re out of here.”
Ivy glanced at the clock. Anxiety prickled her neck; by the end of today, they would know why her mother had summoned them here. She’d hardly slept last night, worrying about her parents.
To keep her mind off her mother while she waited for Shelly, Ivy flipped open the book, The T-Shirt & Je
