Golden ✓

Chapter 22

Within days of coming back from winter break, Grace and I indulge in her favorite hobby: shopping.  I pull an upsettingly loudly colored dress off a rack and look at Grace with raised eyebrows. I love shopping with her, even when it's just going into ridiculous stores like this one (which caters to high school dance-goers) to laugh at all the options. Although we dress very differently, it turns out that we have essentially the same taste in fashion. The only thing that sets us apart is that she wears the things that we both like, and I stick to safer clothing. Like T-shirts. I'm not sure if Grace even owns a single one of those.

"Oh, I love it," Grace replies, reaching out and touching the fabric of the dress's bodice.

"Really?" I ask, my eyes darting between her and the dress. It's the same color as a fire engine, that hideous alarming red. The type of color that people associate with danger. It also has an immature prom-dress look to it.

"Oh, yeah," Grace responds, continuing to run her hand over its material. "It feels high quality, too. You should try it on."

I gawk at her in total disbelief. "What occasion would I even have to wear such a thing?"

Grace shrugs. "I don't know. Doesn't matter. I just think that trying it on would be fun."

Yeah, I guess it will be fun. It will be fun to show Grace that I'm right and she's wrong. "Okay," I tell her, placing the hanger of the dress that I grabbed back on the rack and pulling off one in my size. "Are you going to come into the dressing room with me, or will I need to do a fashion show out here for you?"

"I'll be right in after you. I saw a dress that I like, so I'll grab that, and I'll try it on, too. Then we can show each other what we look like at the same time!"

I turn and walk myself toward the dressing rooms. When I find an unoccupied room for myself, I place the hanger onto one of the wall hooks and examine the dress to determine the best way to get into it. The bodice is tightly fitted, which is accomplished by having a lace-up back with a bright, shiny ribbon. I get to work on untying the ribbon and loosening it so that I will actually be able to squeeze my body into the dress's top. I have to unthread some of the bottom holes to make it fit.

I pull the whole thing over my head, feeling the smooth satiny fabric slide over my skin. Maybe Grace was right about the quality of the material. It does feel really nice, nicer than any other dress I've ever worn. She was wrong about the color, though. It looks horrific on me. I can't pull off this type of red. Grace probably could. Jessie definitely could. But I can't.

So I was right, and I'll get to show Grace that I was right.

I reach behind me to secure the dress, but the best that I can do is to tighten the ribbons a little. There's no chance that I'll be able to finish threading it and tie it myself. Grace will have to help me with that.

I place one hand to my chest to keep the dress in place as I awkwardly waddle out of the room.

Grace is already out in the corner of the dressing room section, where there is a giant mirror as well as a little circular stand. Grace is on that stand, examining herself in the mirror, twisting left and right and letting the dress she chose flow around her. I watch the light catch the sequined bodice, and it glints silver then gold then silver then gold.  Does it count as mixing metals if the material isn't actually metal?

"Grace," I say timidly.

She twirls toward me. The knee-length tulle skirt of her dress lifts as she does so, flowing out as if the dress itself is dancing. It has these long, flowy sleeves that are attached partway down the bodice, giving the appearance of wings. She looks like a fairy. Or maybe just a winged princess. Definitely someone out of a fairytale. She gives me a big, regal smile.