Page 34 of Madness Becomes Her
Despite trying to school my expression and my bodily reaction, I grin. “I have you for that.”
His smile lifts his lips easily up his face. “You do.”
We fall into a simple conversation that makes no sense, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Before I knew it, we arrived at a small shop on a strip of endless businesses. The street looks like a city’s main street, bustling with characters that look to belong in a fairytale.
Finlo gets out of the carriage, offering his hand to me. Finding the step with my foot carefully, I hold his hand as I exit. A deep buzz curls through my arm at the contact. If he feels it, he doesn’t give any tell.
Sew Much Fun,the building’s sign reads. I smirk at the name as Fin leads me inside.
The shop’s proprietor saunters up, her thick-framed glasses rimming her eyes that appear far bigger through the high-powered lenses. Her hair is so frizzy that it gives the illusion she was recently electrocuted. She’s dressed head to toe in nothing but color, her dress a kaleidoscope of rainbows. “Good day! Welcome to Sew Much Fun. We’re having a sale on anything and everything, but only on this one rack.” She points to a rack to her right, coming to a stop, taking a deep breath after her boisterous entrance.
I fight a smirk at her expense. Just like everyone I’ve met in Wonderland so far, she’s a degree from normal. Something I’m coming to expect.
“She needs a full wardrobe. A few outfits fit to wear to the palace as well,” Fin tells her.
The woman narrows her eyes, raking her gray eyes up and down my body as if taking visual measurements. “One shouldn’t go to the palace.”
I don’t find her words alarming in the slightest. Knowing who the Red Queen is, it doesn’t surprise me that those beneath her tyrannical rule wouldn’t want to go near her.
When neither one of us responds, she huffs. “I’ll get options ready and put them into dressing room one. Peruse the floor and let me know if you find any other items you’d like to try on.” Swooshing away, she disappears into the back of the shop.
“Where is she going?”
Fin smirks. “Esmerelda is much like me. The way I know which hat is perfect for a head, she knows which pieces are perfect for you. She’ll pull what she wants to dress you in from the back.”
“Then what are all these?” I waft my hands around the store. Racks and racks of dresses, shirts, and pants litter the store.
“Her discard pile, essentially. Pieces she deems imperfect. She’s an artist, but she still needs to make money. If people want to buy her discarded work, so be it. I could never.” Hatter’s eyes roam the room in silent appreciation but also in silent judgement.
“Why could you never?” I ask him, finding a beautiful purple dress with a high slit to the hip and pulling it off the rack, tossing it over my left arm as I move to the next rack. “You have so many hats lying around the house; you should open a store and give people the option of picking their perfect hat from your collection.”
Fin makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat, eyeing me so intensely that it’s hard to keep my eyes on the clothes my hands work over as I continue my perusal. “I hat a person based on circumstance and personality.”
“Maybe it would be nice if you gave people an option.”
“People don’t know what they need.”
“And you do?”
When I turn toward him, I catch the anger flaring in his eyes at my words. I swallow. “I don’t mean to upset you, it’s just?—”
“You haven’t,” he cuts me off as Esmerelda shows back up with armloads of clothes, eyeing my one chosen piece with judgmental eyes and a sneer.
“If you’ll follow me?” she says, turning and hefting the clothes toward the area marked as dressing rooms.
Opening my mouth to apologize to Fin, I turn to find him shaking his head. “Go. It’s fine. I’ll be here.”
His words make my stomach fuzzy, and I don’t hate it.
He sits just outside the dressing room. There’s only a thin curtain separating us as I shimmy into and out of dress after dress.
I hate that Esmerelda’s choices are sublime. She’s included dresses, underthings, pants, shirts, and even night clothes, each outfit just as perfect as the last. The last being a sleek black dress that I’m sure she included for Finlo’s benefit.
I decide I’ll take all she’s given me, but when I attempt to remove the perfect black dress, the zipper is stuck at the top, right beneath my right armpit, and I panic.
Fear and thrill crawl up my throat as I weigh my options, trying my hardest to get the zipper to budge.
Nothing.
