First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 23

"Oh, Charlotte, no, I'm not wearing that!" Liz ducked away just in time to avoid the pink crown. It was ringed with bubblegum pink fluff and the body was made of plastic words that read "Birthday Girl." "You can't make me!"

"I can try!" She waved the crown ineffectually in Liz's direct for another few seconds before giving up. She chucked it on the kitchen counter with a clunk. "You're not still moping, are you?"

"I'm not moping," Liz said with a small frown.

"Well, good. We're going to have fun tonight, you're going to get legally drunk, and then I will escort you home. After I've determined you have had the maximum amount of enjoyment."

Liz rolled her eyes. "Sounds great, Char." She slipped one foot into her low heel, adjusting the strap around her ankle.

"I wish I could come," Mariah sighed, slumping forward on the stool. She eyed her sister and Liz's party dresses, their curled and clipped hair, their makeup... Then she compared it to her own duck-covered pajama pants and college t-shirt. She widened her eyes and batted her lashes at her older sister.

Charlotte only patted her on the head. "Give it three years, then you can come."

"Two and a half!"

"Well, in two and a half years, I will legally take you to a bar. Not a day sooner, kiddo."

Mariah stuck out her tongue, but when they waved good-bye at the door, she returned the gesture.

The night air was sharp. It jabbed and gripped with prickling fingers, throwing loose flakes of snow in their faces with playful gusts of wind. The cold made the short walk to the car interminable. Liz's nose and cheeks tingled slightly as she slid into the relative warmth of the front seat.

"Nothing good has ever come of Lydia choosing my outfits," she said ruefully, plucking at her thin, sheer tights. Even with warm socks and tall boots, a miniskirt over tights was not enough to keep out the chill. At least her puffy jacket made up lack of warmth from her green silk blouse. "Don't let me ask her for fashion advice again."

"You say that every time," Charlotte said with a grin as she pulled out of the parking spot, "but you keep going back."

Liz shrugged, moving her full body in the motion, lifting both her hands palms up as if to say, "What am I going to do about it?"

"Speaking of going back," Charlotte began slowly. She knew she needed to pick her words carefully, lest she set Liz off again. "What are you going to do about The Brambling Chronicles? Now that you know the author's, uh, real identity."

Liz frowned and crossed her arms, leaning her right shoulder against the cold glass of the car window. As soon as they returned to Charlotte's apartment the previous evening, she had grabbed Water Below the Castle and shoved it to the bottom of her suitcase, piling her clothing on top of it. She hadn't had the emotional capacity to deal with the revelation at the time and she was pretty sure she didn't still. "I don't think I want to think about it."

"Okay, but you read his other book and hated it! I mean, like, authors have a voice, don't they? That's what you talk about in English class, isn't it?"

Liz shrugged, dragging a line in the condensation on the window. "When you put it that way, then I guess I'm not convinced he wrote them at all."

"I don't know, he looked pretty embarrassed to me. Hard to fake that."

"You're right. If he was that good of an actor, he wouldn't look so grumpy all the time."