18 SHANNON CLIMBED into Hal’s Explorer and sank back against its sturdy seat. The truck smelled of leather and carpet shampoo and stability, security. Kind of like Hal the man. He might wear hideous combinations of clothing and say utterly bizarre things, but he was secure in his own skin, comfortable with himself when he wasn’t trying to follow someone else’s script. She got the sense, still, that he was humoring her with all this makeover madness. Humoring his mother and sister and attorney, too. He considered the whole process of—what did he call it?—Suave School ridiculous and only went along with it to get everyone off his back. While this knowledge didn’t make Shannon feel any more successful in life, she had to respect the fact that he liked himself just the way he was. He didn’t live for anyone else’s approval—or, like her, for their disapproval. With sudden clarity, she realized that her entire life had been a rebellion against Greenwich and her parents…the people who were not really her parents.
