The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 7

Janice

The ball is tomorrow, and I can't help feeling just a little excited. It's the kind of event that should be totally beneath me. As someone that skipped nearly every high school dance, I can't think of an event that should appeal to me less.

Yet here I am, tapping my foot and waiting for my shift to end so I can finally meet Shirley for my dress fitting.

Work passes at a snail's pace. Luckily, there are a few customers, which at least gives me something to do during the mind-numbingly boring hours. Danny has the day off, so there's no one for me to talk to while I stand at the counter and try not to fall asleep.

When my shift is finally over, I rush out of the café and catch a bus to the city, excited to see what Shirley has made.

When I arrive, I see the orange-haired woman towards the back, showing a piece of royal blue fabric to a blonde girl. Awkwardly, I make my way over to her, not sure where to stand or whether I should wait. She spots me and smiles, mumbling something to the girl and striding over to me.

"Janice!" she says with a grin.

"Uh, hi." I'm surprised she remembers me.

"Ready to see your dress?" she asks.

"Sure," I reply, trying not to seem as eager as I am.

Shirley dashes to the back of the shop and returns a moment later with the black bag containing my dress. She hands it to me and shows me a fitting room I can use to try it on. I step into the small, mirrored room and lock the door. It takes me a bit to figure out how to get the dress on, but eventually I manage to find my way into it. I stare at my reflection in half a dozen mirrors and let out a small gasp.

The first thing that strikes me is how elegant it is. The neck is a wide V, and the sleeves are long. The corset doesn't constrict me as much as I thought it would, and for that I'm grateful. The dress is black, but the bodice is such a dark emerald green that I have to strain to see the difference. The skirt seems poofy for my taste, but compared to some I've seen it's tame. There's more of that subtle green trim around the bottom of the dress, which ends right at my feet.

I step out of the fitting room and Shirley claps her hands excitedly. The other girl is still standing by the blue fabrics, and when she sees me she scowls. I can't help but snicker at her jealous expression.

I twirl, feeling giddy, and wrap Shirley in a hug.

"I love it! Thank you so much!" I exclaim.

"I'm so glad!" Shirley replies. "It came out even better than I'd hoped."

She has me stand on a small pedestal in the center of the store and starts to adjust the fit of my dress. Her expert hands move gracefully as she sticks needles in and out of my skirt. I glance around as she works, antsy from standing still for so long. Blue Girl is still giving me a death glare, so I smile passive-aggressively and give her a tiny wave, earning a "Don't move" from Shirley. The girl clenches a fist. Some people are so petty.

"You know, if you keep scowling like that, you'll get crow's feet," I call over to her.

I almost burst out laughing because fora second, there's genuine fear in her eyes. Then she shoots me a much less expressive glare, tosses her golden hair, and strides out of the shop, carrying a dress bag.

"Sorry if I cost you a customer, Shirley."

"Don't be," she replies through teeth clenched around needles. "She bought her dress an hour ago. It was technically loitering."

I laugh.

Most things are made by machines these days, so, I expect the handmade gown to cost at least 10,000 units. To my surprise, Shirley only asks for 8,000.