Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,67

I asked her as I zipped up my backpack.

"Pretty good," she said optimistically, laying out several paintbrushes like surgical tools. "I'll have a batch ready to show your dad by the end of November. I hate being a perfectionist. It takes me forever to finish anything."

Suddenly, the lights flickered. I looked up at the ceiling, pausing. Then the lights went completely out. Fear bubbled up inside my chest for a moment, until I realized everyone else saw it, too. Ms. Vore kept all her windows open, facing the field, but a few girls giggled at the semi-darkness. After a moment the lights blinked back on.

"McPherson needs to take care of that," Ms. Vore muttered as she was walking down the aisle with a tub of acrylic paints.

"Is there an electrical problem?" I asked.

Realizing she'd been heard, she grinned sheepishly. "They've just been having wiring issues with all the remodeling. They were flickering like crazy a few weeks ago during parent teacher conferences. I heard they're going to schedule some electricians soon."

I sat back in my chair, happy that for once there was a logical reason for the lights going out.

"Why won't you tell me who your date is?" I asked Theo, kicking a rock down the sidewalk. It was the Thursday before the dance, and we were walking into town to go dress shopping.

She stared straight ahead, her small face resolute. "You'll see him on Saturday," she said. "Why is it an issue?"

"That's precisely my question, why is it an issue?"

She grimaced and remained silent. "Can't we talk about something else?"

Thankfully, Claire couldn't get the afternoon off, so we were on our own. I could only imagine the ribbon-festooned monstrosity she would have unleashed upon me. The air had dipped much colder, wintery, the smell of bonfires seasoning the air. I was glad for the deep pockets of my coat as I jammed my frigid hands into them.

A cheery bell dinged as we entered the dress shop. The warmth inside was a relief. In the front window, skeletons instead of mannequins were decked out in red formalwear. Whether this was a comment on the fashion industry or just the usual Halloween Town fun, I didn't know.

There were racks of bridal gowns and bridesmaids dresses in a rainbow of colors, along with a bunch of different styles of formal dresses. The store smelled strongly of eucalyptus, jammed into tall white vases all around the room.

"Where do we start?" Theo asked, dismayed. Her brow puckered as she cracked her knuckles. I surveyed the dizzying array of choices. For once, I wish I had the fashion sense of my mother.

The eager saleslady descended on us, smelling fresh meat. Her unnaturally tinted hair was piled tightly on her head.

"Hello, ladies," she purred. "Looking for dresses for the school dance?"

"How did you guess?" Theo asked, taken aback not just by her words but by the spooky expression on the woman's heavily made-up face.

"My daughter goes to Hawthorne, too," she beamed. "Shawna Jameson."

"Oh, yeah," I said, nodding. I had never heard of the girl, but I wanted to be polite.

Charleen, according to her nametag, guided us over to a rack of dresses in darker tones of mauve and olive.

"These are brand new for the winter season," she said. One leopard print, claw-like fingernail trailed along the shiny, intimidating fabrics. She pulled out a pumpkin-colored two piece with a flourish and held up to Theo. The dress dwarfed her.

"Oh, wow," Theo said, the side of her face twitching. I was worried she would have a stroke. "That sure is a dress."

"Do you maybe have something more...traditional?" I asked in the politest way I could think of.

"Sure!" The woman crowed, and jammed the dress back in with its companions. "Follow me, ladies!"

She led us to rack of dresses that looked like they were leftover from my mother's prom, all poufy sleeves and bright neon colors. Theo was biting her lip raw, trying not to laugh. I felt the same way, although I really didn't know what I was looking for.

"I don't know if that's exactly what we had in mind, either," I said delicately, fiddling with the price tag on a purple dress with blue sleeves.

"You know what, let me take a look in the back," the woman said, not to be discouraged. She disappeared behind a set of thick green curtains.

"This is some overpriced polyester," I said, balking at several of the price tags.

"Yeah, we need cheap polyester, the way it's meant to be," Theo said. "Everything