Page 310 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

She points to a door leading off her bedroom. “Shower, shave, shampoo. Then get your ass back here. I’m giving you five minutes.”

My head’s the human equivalent of a hard drive that’s in serious need of defragging. And since I can’t argue, I obey.

When I emerge from Addy’s shower, squeaky clean and smelling like strawberries, she gives me a once over like she can see right through the towel wrapped around my body, and sniffs.

“I don’t know if this is gonna work,” she says, holding up the dress I shoved into my backpack earlier. “It’s…like…really old fashioned.”

I couldn’t give a fuck if it’s more suitable to Neanderthal man—the instant my eyes land on the shimmering silver dress, I’m incapable of looking at anything else.

“It’s fucking beautiful,” I murmur, walking closer like I’m in some kind of trance.

“Whatev,” Addy mutters, and tosses the dress at me. “Don’t you even try wearing underwear with that. It’ll show.” Then she struts over to me with a joint in one hand, and a mascara wand in the other. “Now sit, and let me work my magic.”

I hold up a finger, but I don’t waste any time grabbing the joint. She lights it for me, her green eyes twinkling as I hit it hard.

“Don’t make me look like a whore,” I say, wiggling my finger in her face. I extend another finger. “And don’t tell me what I can and can’t wear with this dress.”

Addy cocks her head, but doesn’t argue. I sink onto her dressing table’s stool and tip my head back so she can applymakeup on my face. Meanwhile, I’m puffing away at her joint and hoping like fuck Marigold went straight to bed without checking my room again.

I’ll be the first to admit, I’m probably a bit too sparkly, even for a black-tie event. But fuck it, I haven’t felt this pretty in years, and I used to make a point of dressing up whenever I went out back in the day. Mom’s cocktail dress drapes me like spun platinum. It hugs my body in all the right places, emphasizing tits and ass as if it was designed by the only heterosexual designer in high fashion.

Maybe it’s the makeup. Addy’s got a real fine touch—my eyes are big and green but not whorish at all. My lips dark, and full, but nothing resembling those of a prostitute’s. My cheekbones glimmer, and this is the first time ever that I’ve noticed my décolletage.

Addy’s shoes seal the deal. Black, understated, two inches high. I manage to walk in them, but only just.

But it’s worth all the moments between steps when I’m not sure if I’ll ever find the ground again. Because, fuck it, shit looks fantastic two inches up from my usual eye level.

“So you’re moving?” I ask, twisting in front of Addy’s mirror. I’m perversely fixated on how good this dress makes me look. And also slightly distressed how much I look like my mother, but I’m doing my good darn best to ignore that.

Maybe it’s the hair. I don’t know what the hell Addy has in her shampoo, but my hair has a life of its own. It tumbles down my back in a raven cascade of bouncy curls I’ve never seen before.

“Yeah,” Addy says quietly. She’s behind me, toying with my hair as she sticks a few glittering pins in it and hoists it up into a messy bun. “There’s been some shit at my parent’s company. We’re moving south for a while until it blows over.”

“Shit, Addy, that sucks.”

She shrugs at me in the mirror and bends down until our heads are level. “Doesn’t matter. You know what does matter?” She grips my shoulders and grins at my reflection.

I nod. “Getting even.”

“Getting even,” she repeats softly. She steps back and claps her hand. “You’re ready.”

I stand and take one last twirl in front of the mirror.

Fuck, I didn’t think it would be possible, but I look amazing.

I hold up a hand. “Shit, hang on. I almost forgot something.” I rummage around in my backpack until I find my mother’s necklace.

“What’s…?” But Addy’s voice trails away as she comes to my side. “Fuck, Indi, that’s...”

“It was my mother’s.” I hold it up and try to clasp it at the back of my neck, but Addy bats away my hands.

She secures the clasp and stares at my reflection with wide eyes. “You look gorgeous,” she murmurs.

I drop my gaze and grab hold of the sapphire around my neck. The light catches on Briar’s bracelet, and I stare at them with wide eyes.

It’s as if they were made for each other.

“Let’s get going,” Addy says, snapping me out of the thought. “Else everyone’s gonna be too trashed to notice when we arrive.”

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