Page 20 of All These Beautiful Strangers
After Dalton left and meandered across the library to sit with Ren and Darcy, Stevie returned to our table with her book.
“He was totally asking you to the dance,” Stevie said, exasperated. “And you completely shut him down.”
I sighed. “He was not, and I did not,” I said. “It’s amazing to me that someone who’s so great at deconstructing Plath’s esoteric poetry could so completely misread a normal conversation that plays out right in front of her in plain English.”
“Okay, Cleopatra,” Stevie said.
“Cleopatra?”
“Queen of Denial,” Stevie explained.
I chucked my pencil at her.
I tried not to let my gaze flicker across the room to Dalton every time I looked up from my reading, but I couldn’t help myself. I found myself watching him as he read, wondering what he was saying every time he leaned over to talk to Ren or Darcy. When I looked up later and found that their table was empty, that Dalton had left, I felt a sharp pang of disappointment.
“Does this one look okay?”
Yael turned sideways and glanced at herself in the mirror, taking in the angles of the dress.
Dress shopping with Yael was hellish because everything looked good on her tall, slender frame. Currently she was wearing a short, high-necked, sleeveless dress in dark blue. There was a sheer overlay that was embellished with hundreds of beads and crystals. The style accentuated Yael’s tiny waist and her legs that went on for days, and the color popped against her porcelain skin.
“I hate you,” I said, and I was only half joking.
It was Friday afternoon and Yael, Drew, Stevie, and I were at Delphine’s, the only boutique in Falls Church, shopping for our homecoming dresses. I had been dragged there against my will and despite many protests. I found my dress in about two minutes. In fact, it was the first and only dress I tried on: a short wine-colored silk dress with a low back. Simple yet elegant. It was the only dress there that didn’t scream Pretty Pretty Princess. The other girls tried on dresses made of soft chiffon, or frothy lace, or full skirts of tulle in soft pastels: rose, mint, periwinkle. I had dutifully held their hangers and fished through the racks for different sizes and offered second opinions for the past hour, but my patience was wearing thin. A dress was a dress, and they were all starting to look the same to me. Currently, I was draping myself over the chair in Yael’s dressing room and fiddling with my phone as she undressed.
I couldn’t help but think about that night: the first item for the A’s was due by midnight. The first challenge, and they had given us just two days to complete it.
I had done my homework: I had a basic understanding of Nancy’s schedule—where she would be, and when, and who would be with her. The other afternoon, I had staked out a place on the quad with a good view of the headmaster’s house. My spot was on a hill, so I could see over the fence into the backyard. I did my trigonometry homework as I tracked Nancy’s comings and goings. I felt more than a little ridiculous stalking a dog.
“Do you like this one?” Drew asked, opening Yael’s dressing room door without knocking. She had on a champagne-colored high-low chiffon dress with a sweetheart neckline.
Yael shifted her weight to her back leg and carefully considered the dress, standing only in her bra and underwear but seemingly unconcerned with her state of undress.
“Turn,” Yael instructed, and Drew did a slow revolving circle in front of us.
“The high-low style is a little last season,” Yael said.
I noticed something red on the tag of the dress and I reached out to read it. “No wonder,” I said, taking a closer look. “This dress is last season. It’s been marked down.”
Drew quickly grabbed the tag back from me. “Whoops, somebody must have accidentally put this on the new-dresses rack. I hate it when sale items get mixed in with the good stuff.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a good deal,” Stevie said, peeking her head over the divider. She was in the dressing room next to Yael’s, but she was standing on a chair and leaning over, so I could only see her from the elbows up.
“I do kind of like it,” Drew said. “I can pull off vintage, right?”
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked jokingly, touching my hand to her forehead to measure her temperature. Drew’s mom was high up at some women’s fashion retailer, so Drew typically had a taste for high-end fashion. The newer and more expensive, the better. She was not one to dig through the discount rack.
Drew pushed my hand away.
“Ignore her. You look hot,” Stevie said.
“Hot enough to make Crosby break up with Ren?” Drew asked.
“Are they back together again?” Yael asked.
“I can’t tell,” Drew said. “But he hasn’t asked me to the dance yet, so I figured they were.”
“I thought we were all going together,” I said, looking up from my phone, a little annoyed. “Or are we just your backup?”
