new size-zero J Brand cargoes last week, I decided to let my grandmother buy me that car she’s been bugging me about. Two days ago, Josie presented me the keys to a green Mini Cooper convertible. It’s so new that it still smells like the cappuccino machine at the dealership. On the way to the car, I stub my toe on a half-buried can. Crouching down, I see it’s a can of Red Devil lye, buried at the edge of the garden. Frowning, I start the car. What kind of evil is my grandmother warding off now?
Hayes and Madison are waiting for me in Damien’s private fitting room. Madison, who designed her own dress, is bent over, sewing the trim. Hayes is standing in front of the mirror in her underwear, talking on her phone.
“Jason, no. We already spent the last four days together. I need some time to get ready for the ball.” She pauses, listening. “No, you can’t come here right now. Because I’m busy. And listen—no more flowers. I’m developing a serious allergy, and there’s no more damned surface area in the house to put ’em on, anyway! Look, I gotta go.” Shaking her head, she flips the phone closed.
“Gris-gris a bit too strong?” Madison asks.
“He’s driving me crazy. Seriously. Must have got the blood-pee-verbena ratio confused, or maybe I mixed it wrong.”
“It’ll wear off,” Madison says. “Take his sock out from under your bed. That’s probably overkill.” Sensing yet another question forming, she cuts me off before I can ask. “On top of the rite, she filled his sock with the hummingbird mixture and put it under her mattress. It’s an old New Orleans trick.”
“Is that what you did to Thaddeus last year?” I ask.
Madison looks up from her work. Hayes shifts uncomfortably.
“Thaddeus knows I’m sorry for what I did. It was a mistake.”
“But was that the trick?”
“Yeah. Among other things.”
“My grandmother okayed it?”
“No,” Hayes says. “She went straight to Sina. Now, come on, are we going to try on dresses, or what?”
Case closed, I guess. BleuBelle’s has a killer formal department, and Damien has hung up a small but exquisite selection of white dresses for Hayes and me. A year ago, I never dreamed I’d be into this but, I have to say, trying on couture is pretty fun. We turn side to side, trading gowns.
“Too tight!” Madison barks as we stand in front of her. “Too cheesy!” After an hour, Hayes has settled on a Marchesa gown with crystal trim, but nothing looks right on me.
“I can’t believe it,” Damien moans. “You don’t like anything?”
“It’s not that we don’t like anything,” Madison says somewhat impatiently. “It’s that nothing’s perfect.”
She crosses her arms and looks at me, pursing her pink lips. My face turns red as the old insecurities come back. Is she thinking that I’m too fat for these dresses? Too dumpy? For a moment I can’t help hating her long legs and round doll’s cheeks.
I lost my virginity to her… so I’ll always care about her.
“It’s supposed to be our major spotlight moment,” she continues. “Look how far she’s come. It’s not about covering anymore. This is about fucking celebrating.”
Damien nods. “You know, you really do have a designer’s eye,” he says admiringly.
“Wait! I think I know the dress,” I say, suddenly remembering the gown my mother wore. “It was my mom’s.”
Damien clasps his hands together. “I sold her that dress! Back in the day. It’s a beaded Chanel.”
“Probably too eighties,” Madison comments.
“No, it’s a classic,” Damien assures her. “I remember it perfectly. Well, it does have those puffed sleeves….”
“I can work with that,” she says, granting me a brief, rare smile. “Come on, Moonbeam. Let’s go dig it up.”
While Hayes stays to get some final touches on the gown she’s selected, Madison and I go to my grandmother’s house. As usual, we ride in silence, listening to the music. The house is empty when we enter. Then I remember—the dress is in my mother’s locked room.
“Wait here,” I say. I run upstairs, scaling the outside of the porch. The window is still unlocked from last time. I climb in, noticing that the room is much cooler than the warm fall air outside. We spent such a long time at Damien’s that it’s just about sunset by now—and the room is almost dark.
Suddenly, I see what looks like a black shadow dart into the corner behind the bed.
“Hello?”
Nothing. Nervously, I take the dress from the closet. As soon as I hold it in