"So English isn't your first language. Where were you born?" Kelan asked, jolting June out of her thoughts once again.
"Where was I...?" June echoed. Almost every time Kelan said something, it was like the floor wobbled a little under her feet and she had to let go of what she was just thinking to keep her balance. She was starting to wish he'd shut-- be quiet and let her lead the conversation.
"If you're okay with me asking," he said. "I'm sorry. This is the first time I've met someone from another country in this town. We're not really big enough to attract a lot of people from far away."
"Since you ackn... um... you brought it up...," June stalled for time to think. "...It was a little rude of you to phrase it that way." Rude or not, she felt compelled to answer his question. It was the polite thing to do. But she still couldn't remember where she grew up. Her childhood memories were there, but the exact places and faces were vague, like rough sketches. She had to stall until she could make sense of everything.
She remembered the reason they were at the changing rooms in the first place and used that to deflect his questions for now. "We should be near where I saw the umpire costumes."
Kelan looked at the dark cloak draped over his arm. "Vampire?"
June nodded. "Right. Thanks." She led Kelan down a row of racks, keeping an eye out for the vampire section while going back to what she'd been thinking before Kelan threw her off-track. If Kelan's words had as much power to change her as her own, then everyone must have that power while she's in the dress. And Kelan had said so much to her in the past 10 minutes. How many things had he changed about her already? Had Lola changed anything, too?
She glanced down at herself. The only difference appeared to be her hair. But that was only a physical change. Lola said the dress could also change her behavior to fit her role and make it easier to interact with others. But she was acting more awkward than usual, not less. From the instant she first bumped into Kelan, she had felt off-kilter, with facts and memories getting more and more scrambled.
Come to think of it, why would her dress suddenly have this power? Lola talked about it as if it was something she had just found at this store, but this was a regular dress. She had a dozen gothic outfits like this in her closet. No... the facts didn't add up. She'd gone to the changing room to try on a costume. Why wasn't she wearing a costume, then? Unless this was the costume. But why would she buy a goth costume when she was already a goth?
She shook her head in frustration and felt her pigtails snake across her back. It was a feeling both vaguely familiar and deeply unfamiliar. She could tell the difference between the fake feeling and the real one. She wasn't really a goth. Somehow her memories changed to make her think she was. It was the only thing that made sense.
The dress-- the costume must have been making subtle adjustments to her mind based on what she and Kelan had been talking about. This was troubling. It was a good thing he was so trustworthy. If Kelan had been making wrong guesses about her this entire time, the costume would have likely changed her to match his expect-- his--
She couldn't think of the word, but that was beside the point. A huge puzzle piece just clicked into place. Her delicate footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
He was guessing wrong! That would explain why she had kept doubting what he was saying, and why specific memories suddenly got fuzzy the minute he got her thinking about them. She had to make sure he didn't change her any further, even if that meant being rude and contradicting him the next time he made a false assumption about her.
But even then, how would she get her lost memories back? Lola said taking off the dress-- ugh, costume would reverse the changes. Was that true for her mind, too?
Kelan noticed she had fallen several steps behind him and turned around. "June?"
She blinked and looked up. "Oh, s-sorry! I got lost in thought." She tried to skip quickly to catch up to him, but the tightness of the dress and her shoes forced her to walk as primly and properly as ever.
Just as she reached him, she spotted some black-and-red capes up ahead. "There, I see them!" She thought about lifting her arm toward the rack, but an instinct stopped her. Oh, of course. It was rude to point.
"Thanks for your help. You're really nice to take this detour for me." Kelan hung the cape up with its brethren, then turned back to June. "So, getting back to the question, is it all right if I asked where you're from? I'm just curious, is all."
She gulped, realizing she still hadn't come up with the answer to his question. All she was certain of was that she wasn't from this country originally. At the very least, she wasn't from this area. But how could she be sure about any of that if she couldn't remember the details? If her mind wasn't to be trusted...
Oh! Her purse had her ID in it, and it was still strung over her shoulder. Was this really her purse, though? It was as black and lace-covered as her dress. She opened the fancy silver clasp to take a look anyway. Sure enough, there were her things. Though some looked more familiar than others. She fished out her pocketbook and found her ID, which was...
...completely blank, save for the small box with her photograph, in which she had the same black hair and ghostly complexion as she did now.
Kelan looked at her suspiciously. He deserved an answer, she thought. But she had none to give. The extent of the changes was starting to overwhelm her.
"Should I guess?" he asked sheepishly, glancing at the back of her card, the only part he could see.
Should she let him? A part of her--the polite part--said yes. But she remembered that her own words could shape her as well. If she ventured her own guess, she might guess right. At worst, she'd at least be choosing her own role instead of leaving it up to Kelan.