Chameleon ✔️

7 treehouses

          I'm still not entirely sure how I ended up in this position. And I surely cannot attest to the truth that the person I see in the mirror staring back at me is me, or even one of the many mes I have been throughout these nineteen years. From the neck up, I look my normal self — dark hair, dark eyes, dark expression. But from my shoulders down? I look...

"Kinda weird; I'm not gonna lie," Eli admits.

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Well, this is good. We learned that the summer color palette isn't for you," Kei says in an attempt to save her dress from further ridicule.

"Yeah, no kidding."

The dress is unmistakably, (comically, even, if it weren't so terrifying) similar to the one I'd worn in my dream. It's pink, very pink, too pink. It has a sweetheart neckline, a bejeweled corset-like torso, and a body of fluffy tulle that flows all the way to the floor. I'd hated it from the moment I'd seen it, but Kei was trying to do me a favor by lending me her old prom dress from a couple years ago because I don't have three hundred bones to just throw away on one, and I hadn't had the heart to say no.

"To the Goodwill, it is, then," I say.

Kei sighs as if she's upset with herself for not succeeding in transforming me into a pretty prom princess. Little does she know that that's going to take a lot more than just a fluffy pink gown.

"Alright, núzhiⁿga," she says, "back outside so I can help her out of it."

Eli raises his brows at me once, twice, as if to suggest that he is excited that I will be scantily clad for a few brief moments behind a closed door which he will stand on the other side of. I wonder if his aura would be lusty plum if I could read him. Then I think better of it. Elijah Whitney hasn't a sinful bone in his body.

Kei brushes my ponytail to the side and unzips the top of the dress. It clings to me like a parasite, and I have to peel it off of my milky skin. I step out of it carefully as Kei squats to the ground to save her dress from imploding, although I swear it's so stiff it would just stay standing completely upright, holding the space I'd been within it like an Aspen-shaped mold.

I now stand in front of her floor-length mirror, and I wear nothing but a pair of black cotton panties and a black t-shirt bra, that, paired with my ponytail that still hangs over my right shoulder, only seems to make me look even paler. I've always made it a point to maintain a healthy body — I want to be strong if ever I come face to face with my monster. But since enjoying Theresa's smorgasbord every Thursday night, I've put on a few extra pounds, which I can't help but to take a little pride in, although the praise should really go to my generous hosts. My thighs press together and my face is fuller — making me seem less rigid and frail beneath the freckles. And I suddenly have hips!

I slip my jeans and tee back on just as Kei comes out of her closet from putting the cotton candy puff ball back where it belongs. But this time she holds a long black garment bag and a huge smile on her face and yellow excitement in her aura.

"I totally forgot about this one," she says, and her smile takes over her whole face just like Sol's and her brother's. "I wore it to the Honor Society banquet at uni last spring. Which was a big mistake, because it's really not a spring color at all. But it might be perfect for you."

She lays it atop her paisley-covered comforter and unzips it slowly, carefully, as if it holds the crown jewels of the kingdom. And as she does, I can see that it's not much. The color is a deep, deep purple, so dark that it's almost black. She lifts it up and out of the bag and drapes it gently over her arm, holding it out to me.

Once it's on me, I learn the dress is blouson styled. The spaghetti-strapped top is made of sheer fabric and hangs off of me loosely, folding under at the waist and turning into a silky skirt that hugs my hips and drops right at my ankles. I look in the mirror and I see my mother.