like everyone else?”
“Don’t try to be witty. Faulkner made that for me as a joke. C’mon, you need to change. You must be getting style tips from the Wad.”
She decided against the lacy number, and vetoed both a sparkly camisole with a shrug and a one-shoulder tunic thingy before decreeing that I should wear a midnight blue Chloé blouse that was probably the most expensive item I’d ever buttoned over my body.
“Don’t stink it up,” Ella warned, “like Lindy always does. That poor child reeks down to her Swiss cheese feet. Dry cleaning never gets out her skanky b.o. Come on, bathroom next.”
Where I let Ella do my hair and makeup. “The first time I fixed you up, I almost thought it was a fluke,” she told me. “I mean, who’d ever given you a second look before I added the mascara and the magic? But then I decided you do it on purpose.”
“Do what?”
“You know. Hide in plain sight. Hair in the face and Salvation Army reject clothes. I bet your idea of hell would be the spotlight, right? All eyes on you.”
“Once I read an essay for the Daughters of the American Revolution to a packed auditorium,” I said. “It was for more than two hundred people, and once I got going, I wasn’t scared at all.”
Ella smirked. “Nerbit spotlights don’t count.” She picked up a brush and began to yank at my hair. Hard. “Hair in the face screams insecurity complex. And would you stop pinching up your mouth like you swallowed a lime?”
“I can’t help it, I feel bad,” I answered.
“About what?”
“About seeing Julian. About this whole night. Maybe we really should go to the library.”
I met Ella’s frown as she sat back on the edge of the tub. The hairbrush tapping tapping tapping against her shin. “Are you high?”
“No, it’s just, how are we going to have any fun if Julian’s there, searching all over—”
From outside, a horn honked.
“This is not exactly about fun.” Ella reached forward and took my hand between hers. So soft, the same texture as I’d imagined those buttery kid gloves she wore to protect them. Her eyes had turned soft, too, and entreating. “Please, please don’t nerb out on me, Looze. I mean, it’s hardly even a prank when I think of what Julian actually deserves. ’Kay?”
It wasn’t that I trusted her. It wasn’t that I believed for a second that she’d ever have my back if I needed her. But if I had to take a hard look at why I was in this predicament tonight, I knew it was because I’d way rather walk into a party, any party at all, with Ella Parker, than one more night stuck on the couch between Dad and Stacey, or even seated at the Zawadski table.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Okay.”
“Cool. I always knew you were a secret rock star.” Her smile was like a sparkler that lit us both up, and in the perfect sisterhood of the moment, I felt like I’d do anything for her.
As we bolted through her bedroom, Ella grabbed her three-photo frame and tapped three kisses to her fingers, then one to each Julian. “It just this thing I do,” she said. “I make a wish on the Julians. I’ve been doing it forever.”
“So tonight you’re wishing on the picture Julians for revenge on the real Julian?”
She laughed. “Right. Ironic.”
More like Unstable, and it set me back. At the front door, I stopped.
“What?” Ella jiggled the keys. “Come on. We’ve been through this. Motor already. Mom and Mimi left, so I’ve got to set the alarm.”
“Listen. Just to say. I’m okay with this to a point. But I think down the line—maybe not tonight, but soon—we need to tell him that Elizabeth’s a joke.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Ella nudged me aside so that she could set the alarm code. “I can dress you up, but underneath you’re still the same ant. Hiding under the leaves and analyzing how every single thing in your tiny ant world can go to shit. Piece of advice for you, Raye. No matter what happens tonight, you should get out
“Don’t try to be witty. Faulkner made that for me as a joke. C’mon, you need to change. You must be getting style tips from the Wad.”
She decided against the lacy number, and vetoed both a sparkly camisole with a shrug and a one-shoulder tunic thingy before decreeing that I should wear a midnight blue Chloé blouse that was probably the most expensive item I’d ever buttoned over my body.
“Don’t stink it up,” Ella warned, “like Lindy always does. That poor child reeks down to her Swiss cheese feet. Dry cleaning never gets out her skanky b.o. Come on, bathroom next.”
Where I let Ella do my hair and makeup. “The first time I fixed you up, I almost thought it was a fluke,” she told me. “I mean, who’d ever given you a second look before I added the mascara and the magic? But then I decided you do it on purpose.”
“Do what?”
“You know. Hide in plain sight. Hair in the face and Salvation Army reject clothes. I bet your idea of hell would be the spotlight, right? All eyes on you.”
“Once I read an essay for the Daughters of the American Revolution to a packed auditorium,” I said. “It was for more than two hundred people, and once I got going, I wasn’t scared at all.”
Ella smirked. “Nerbit spotlights don’t count.” She picked up a brush and began to yank at my hair. Hard. “Hair in the face screams insecurity complex. And would you stop pinching up your mouth like you swallowed a lime?”
“I can’t help it, I feel bad,” I answered.
“About what?”
“About seeing Julian. About this whole night. Maybe we really should go to the library.”
I met Ella’s frown as she sat back on the edge of the tub. The hairbrush tapping tapping tapping against her shin. “Are you high?”
“No, it’s just, how are we going to have any fun if Julian’s there, searching all over—”
From outside, a horn honked.
“This is not exactly about fun.” Ella reached forward and took my hand between hers. So soft, the same texture as I’d imagined those buttery kid gloves she wore to protect them. Her eyes had turned soft, too, and entreating. “Please, please don’t nerb out on me, Looze. I mean, it’s hardly even a prank when I think of what Julian actually deserves. ’Kay?”
It wasn’t that I trusted her. It wasn’t that I believed for a second that she’d ever have my back if I needed her. But if I had to take a hard look at why I was in this predicament tonight, I knew it was because I’d way rather walk into a party, any party at all, with Ella Parker, than one more night stuck on the couch between Dad and Stacey, or even seated at the Zawadski table.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Okay.”
“Cool. I always knew you were a secret rock star.” Her smile was like a sparkler that lit us both up, and in the perfect sisterhood of the moment, I felt like I’d do anything for her.
As we bolted through her bedroom, Ella grabbed her three-photo frame and tapped three kisses to her fingers, then one to each Julian. “It just this thing I do,” she said. “I make a wish on the Julians. I’ve been doing it forever.”
“So tonight you’re wishing on the picture Julians for revenge on the real Julian?”
She laughed. “Right. Ironic.”
More like Unstable, and it set me back. At the front door, I stopped.
“What?” Ella jiggled the keys. “Come on. We’ve been through this. Motor already. Mom and Mimi left, so I’ve got to set the alarm.”
“Listen. Just to say. I’m okay with this to a point. But I think down the line—maybe not tonight, but soon—we need to tell him that Elizabeth’s a joke.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Ella nudged me aside so that she could set the alarm code. “I can dress you up, but underneath you’re still the same ant. Hiding under the leaves and analyzing how every single thing in your tiny ant world can go to shit. Piece of advice for you, Raye. No matter what happens tonight, you should get out
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