can be home with Bianca, even if she spends all her time with Gabby. I’m always in a panic when I know she’s home alone, although she insists that she prefers it that way. Luckily, I have a pretty cool neighbor—Mrs. Potts—who is willing to come over if ever Bianca needs something. So far, I haven’t had to call her.
My phone buzzes and I glance down at the screen.
Pathetic: Thanks.
Well, there you have it. He’s in a mood, clearly. If he weren’t, he would’ve sent something more than one word.
While I debate whether or not I should go to bed, I pull up Twitter and check my tweet from earlier. There’s no response from KingstonRush39, which means he hasn’t seen it or he’s too pissed to respond. It’s a good one, too: Mountain climbing … I hear it can be a good cardiovascular workout. Always good to consider new exercise routines.
Maybe he’ll see it later and it’ll make him smile. It’s all I can hope for.
I’ve dealt with this my entire life. Spencer has always been extremely moody after a loss. Most of the time, he won’t talk to anyone, so we’ve learned to leave him alone. In the years since our parents passed, I usually irritate him until he responds.
But not tonight.
I’ll let him and Kingston stew in their defeat. And tomorrow, hopefully, they’ll be over it.
17
Ellie
Sunday, October 23rd
“Oh, come on,” Noelle pleads. “It looks fantastic on you.”
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” I grumble.
I’m staring at myself in the full-length mirror at one of Noelle’s favorite stores, but the woman peering back at me looks nothing like me. Well, aside from the hair and eyes, maybe.
“It does not,” I object. “My skin looks too pale and what’s this? It looks like I’ve got a third boob. Seriously. This isn’t a good dress for me.”
Noelle’s smile widens. “You’ve said that about the last dozen.”
“And you can add this one to that pile.”
“Don’t you dare move,” Noelle insists. “I’ll be right back.”
I’ve heard that at least five times already, and every time, Noelle has come back with a dress that’s worse than the one before. If it weren’t for the fact that I can’t unzip myself from this thing, I would’ve already discarded it and pulled on my jeans. I’m contorted into a pretzel, attempting to do so, when Noelle returns a minute later.
“Here. This is the one.”
I stare at the dress she’s holding up in front of me. It’s black and short, unlike the others she has brought. There are sleeves—a sheer chiffon—and some sort of beaded design on the hem of the skirt and the cuffs. On the hanger, it’s really cute. That doesn’t mean it’ll look good on me, though.
But since it’s not terrible, I know I have no choice but to try it on and appease my best friend.
“Okay, I’ll try it.”
After Noelle unzips me, I slip into the dressing room and change into the next dress. I do my best not to look at my reflection until I have it on and adjusted. Taking a deep breath, I brush my hair back over my shoulder and … open my eyes.
“You love it, don’t you?” Noelle calls through the door.
My best friend knows me well. I’m not sure why she didn’t bring this one to me first. It’s perfect. The scoop neckline shows hardly any cleavage, just enough to entice. It hugs my body, and the hem, with the silver, curly, beaded design, stops mid-thigh. The sleeves are see-thru and loose, flaring at the cuff, which has the same design as the hem. In a word, it’s magnificent.
“I love it,” I tell her, opening the door and stepping out so I can look in the larger mirror.
“Holy, fuck. Kingston is going to go apeshit.”
I don’t know about all that, but I do think it looks good on me. I’ve always been a tomboy, so when it comes to dresses, I tend to shy away from them. Since I’m so tall and thin, I’ve never felt as though I fill them out appropriately. This one is different.
“Oh, hold on. I know the perfect shoes.”
Noelle disappears, and while she’s gone, I snap a picture of myself in the mirror and send it over to Kingston: This look okay for next weekend?
My brother so kindly informed me a couple of days ago that we were being invited to a charity dinner benefiting mental health awareness. And by invited, he meant being forced to go.