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I’m the first to be shocked when Friday comes and I don’t cancel Astrid’s birthday.
Part of me wants to hide in my room and never come out again, of course, but after a full week without a single incident—not a nasty word, or even a weird look—I have to conclude that against all odds, the madness of last weekend didn’t leave any consequences.
Which makes no sense.
Not one to question my luck, I intend to make the best of it. And that means hanging out with Grace and her friends.
I might get along just fine with the people in my class, but they all seem to have gotten together based on long-established social circles, and I don’t belong to any of them. I haven’t really been embraced by anyone the way I was at the gallery. So after class, I head into the lanes to shop for a present—seeking Annalise’s advice, as I always seem to when I’m out of my depth.
I feel a little foolish, asking the poor shopkeeper for advice, but she just leans in eagerly over the counter. “Well, what do we know about that girl?”
I have to take a moment to think. “She’s short and cute. Wears bright colors—she was in a yellow dress last week. She’s a student at RAU, too…” I sigh lamely. “That’s about all I know.”
“Is she wealthy?” Annalise checks.
I have to think for a moment. Most students who can afford that university definitely are, but well, then there’s me. I wouldn’t consider myself wealthy at all, despite my current bank balance. After three more years of tuition, most of the cash will be gone. To me, wealthy means being so comfortable that financial planning for the next ten years doesn’t bring any sort of panic.
“I think so?” I venture, because most of the girls at the opening seem to have been.
“Well, then, she has anything she could need. You’re looking for something sentimental. Somethingyoucare about and want to share.”
That makes a hell of a lot of sense.
Suddenly, I know what to get her. And bonus, I can buy it here. Given Annalise’s effort, I would have hated to go to a competitor for the present—although I fully intended to get myself a second pair of shoes to make up for it.
“She liked my necklace. The red one,” I say.
I’ve worn it most days since purchasing it; I tend to wear a lot of black or white, so a touch of red never hurts.
“Maybe you have something similar in yellow?”
As it so happens, she does. The long chain has butterflies instead of bows, but it’s in the same vein. I thank her profusely, and as she painstakingly wraps the box in a complex fashion—almost too pretty to ruin—I pick up a second pair of shoes anyway. Black ankle boots. It’s starting to rain, summer changing into autumn, and I don’t like having to choose between soggy Converse or drenched feet in the Mary Janes. I also own a pair of winter boots, but those are purely practical, and butt ugly. I’ll have to replace them in a few weeks.
“Any idea what I should wear to La Maison D’Elle, by the way?” I ask, wondering what I would do without the shopkeeper slash life coach.
Panic and stay in my room, canceling everything at the last second, probably.
“Oh! La Maison islovely,” Annalise gushes. “The black dress you wore in August would be just fine. But if you were after something else, you can get away with smart casual, and up to semiformal. No one would blink at a cocktail dress or jeans. Do you know how the others in your party will be dressed?”
I think back to the gallery evening. “I mean, last week, every woman other than me wore a dress, I think. Wait, one of them was in a suit, with a shirt.”
“Tailored dress? Or something they’d wear at the beach?”
I get the feeling she’s dumbing down the choices for me, and I’m grateful. “Definitely tailored. Though I’m not certain their idea of beachwear and mine would align.”
She snorts. “Likely. Well, it sounds like your crowd favors semiformal. As I said, the black dress would be fine."
Except…that’s the dress I wore with Callum. I can’t exactly say why, but I don’t want to wear it again; not for a party. It would be like bringing him with me, which is the last thing I want to do.
“Would you recommend anything in the store?”
I might as well have told her Christmas is three months early.
Three hours later, my hair and make-up have been handled by Phillip. I'm bundled in a deceptively simple powder blue cocktail dress, off shoulder, a little higher at the front than the back. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, so I passed on bright reds or complex designs. But the dress rocks.
It’s also unbearably Stepford wife, so of course, I’m wearing it with ripped tights with a snake design and my new ankle boots, paired with a new long necklace. This one falls to my navel, with several charms and beads. I also got matching earrings. The accessories make it look a little less like I’m on my way to church, and more like I’m back from a rave, but quickly changed into something more suitable to trick parents into believing I was totally at a girl’s slumber party. I like the vibe. Never mind that my parent wouldn’t have noticed if I’d come back naked.
I get to the restaurant at six thirty-five, exactly five minutes late, which is the minimum to not seem completely dorky, in my humble opinion, and of course, I’m one of the first to arrive. The birthday girl isn’t here yet. My sister is though, along with the Fort princess and a pretty dark-skinned girl with a daring buzz cut.
