chapter 16

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"Which shape do you like better?" Mabel asks, frowning at herself in the dressing room mirror. "Ballgown or Empire?"

I'm sitting on the bench across from her, nearly shoulder-deep in her no-pile. (Her yes-pile is, at the moment, nonexistent.)

I really want to be helpful—after all, she could've gone dress-shopping with any of her other fashion-forward friends, but she chose me—but I honestly cannot tell the difference between the Ballgown and Empire dresses. They're both poofy on the bottom, and she looks beautiful in both.

"I'm still contemplating," I say. "Can you try on the Ballgown again?"

"This is the Ballgown."

"Oh. Well. In that case, can you try on the Empire dress again?"

She gives me a deadpan look. "It took me fifteen minutes to take it off." Then, with an edge of desperation to her voice, "Can you please just tell me which dress you like better? I really want to look good for the Solstice Dance."

"First of all, M, you'll look good no matter what. Second of all, these dresses have too much fabric. You need a dress that will show you off, not swallow you up."

Mabel is short and full-figured, with pretty much the exact opposite body shape than me; curvy everywhere I'm angular and flat. She's gorgeous, and she needs to see it for herself.

Mabel sinks down to the floor in a pool of sparkly purple organza. "I'm never going to find a dress," she says despairingly.

I shoot up to my feet, sending ballgowns and mermaid dresses tumbling to the floor. "I will find you the dress of your fucking dreams, Mabel, if it's the last thing I'll ever do," I tell her resolutely, storming out of her dressing room and up to the store's service counter.

Mabel's been looking forward to the Solstice Dance ever since we were in 8th grade. It's an annual event organized by the Senior Class Officers and held at Ocean's Edge Beach every year on June 20th, the last day of school. Now that we're upperclassmen, we're finally allowed to attend.

To be honest, I'm nowhere near as excited about it as Mabel. But there's no way she'd ever let me skip it, so I might as well make the best of it.

"Hello," I greet Lila, the owner of Lila's Dress Boutique. Lila Lenord is the best seamstress on the whole island. She's an impeccably dressed woman in her mid-fifties, with long, silver-streaked hair and smile lines etched into the skin around her eyes. She's one of the wealthiest people on Norholm, too. Wealthy enough to have a car. It's a jet-black Audi.

"Hello, my dear," Lila welcomes me, smiling. "How can I help you today?"

"My friend is here dress-shopping," I tell her. Mabel was too shy to ask her for Lila's help. I'm certainly not. "We need to find a dress that will really show off her figure."

Lila nods, "Of course. That's what I'm here for. Can you bring me to her dressing room?"

Fifteen minutes later, Mabel's twirling in front of the mirror, a smile lighting up her face. She's wearing a dress that Lila picked out. It's A-line, I think—tight around her bust, perfectly accentuating her curves, the skirt sitting just above her hips and flaring out in an elegant hourglass shape. The dress is dark emerald, bright against the red of her hair, bringing out the green of her eyes. She's gorgeous, and she knows it.

"It's the perfect dress," she says, wrapping Lila and me in a surprisingly tight embrace, one arm around each of us. "Thank you so much!"

"Of course!" Lila says, beaming. "You look beautiful. I'll be at the counter if you two girls need anything else."

When Lila leaves, Mabel turns to me, her voice lowering. "Do you think Ewan will like it?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Did he ask you to the dance?"

Pink dapples her round cheeks. "No, he didn't. But, like, if he sees me at the dance, do you think he'll like the dress?"

"Of course he will. It's beautiful."

She looks down at the dress, smoothing her hands over the layered fabric. "What about you? Are we gonna find you a dress?"

I snort, "Over my dead body, will I ever wear a dress."

She laughs, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'll just wear a nice shirt."

"What about Evyana?" She asks.

I feel a blush creep into my cheeks just at the mention of her name. "What about her?"

"What will she wear?"

I give Mabel an "Are you crazy??" look. "Evyana can't go."

"Why not?"

"There are so many reasons why not. First, she's not human. Second, she wouldn't be allowed to, since she doesn't go to our school. Third, I doubt she'd even want to."

Mabel shakes her head. "First, she doesn't look like she's not human. Second, tourists are starting to come to the island. We could pretend she's my cousin who's visiting. You know the teachers love me; they'd let her in if I asked. And third, you haven't asked her?!"

"Obviously, I haven't asked her! I didn't even think it was a possibility!"

"But it could be!" Mabel argues. "Think about it. Mabel has always wanted to see the island and its people up close. She'd have so much fun at the dance. And imagine her in a fancy dress!"

I let myself imagine it: Evyana in a fancy dress, dancing and twirling and jumping on the beach around the bonfire, stars polka-dotting the night sky above her.

"You're making a compelling case, M."

"How compelling?"

"Very compelling."

Mabel smiles. "Ask her, Fionn," she pleads, green eyes wide and encouraging.

I take a deep breath. "Okay," I say. "I'll ask Evyana to go to the dance with me."

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