“Just try it on,” Heather begs. Bessie grimaces into the mirror of Chloe’s Closet, holding up a marigold blouse and matching plaid, pleated skirt. “It’s your color. At least it used to be.” Her mother’s voice is filled with exasperation as she stands with one hand leaning on a counter in the crowded store in Pine Oaks Mall. Dozens of other mothers and daughters are choosing new clothes for school, now just around the corner on this humid day.
Leila twirls in a navy blouse, an A-line skirt, and matching cardigan.
“You look lovely, dear,” Heather comments, smiling at her eleven-year-old. Under her breath, she murmurs, “Must do something with that hair of hers.”
Her younger daughter adjusts her glasses, staring at her sweet mother, noticing how much weight she has lost. Heather’s face is d
