“For the last time,” I said with my head in my hands, “that is a wedding dress.”
Meg sashayed side to side, letting ten pounds of lace flounce and ripple around her knees. “But it’s a very short wedding dress.”
“That does not negate the fact that it is intended for matrimony.” I sighed, flopping over in the plush chair I’d been stuck in for the last twenty minutes.
My regret of agreeing to go dress shopping with Meg and Harper had started somewhere between Orange Julius and the first department store when Harper announced that she’d set aside four hours for this excursion. The regret had intensified at the second department store when Meg launched into a tangent on open-toed shoes. And now, in store number three, I was keeping myself occupied by plotting to eat enough sequins to have to be rushed to the emergency room but not so many sequins that I actually died. Which ruled out ingesting the last dress Meg had tried on.
“It is a very nice dress, Meg,” Harper said, appearing out of the dressing room in a cupcake-dress the same shade of pink as her glasses. “But didn’t you want something in purple?”
“I guess you’re right,” Meg said, stroking the skirt with an unmistakable longing. “I’ll go try on the next one.”
She skipped past Harper and disappeared into the dressing room in a blur of white satin.
“That’s pretty,” I said, gesturing to Harper’s ensemble.
“Oh, please. I look like Glinda the Good Witch.” She tossed herself down in the chair next to me, the toes of her sneakers peeking out from under the shimmering hem of her gown. “This might be more enjoyable for you if you actually tried something on. There has to be something here that you won’t hate.”
“I suppose,” I grumbled.
She turned in her chair, the volume of her skirts making it difficult. She squirmed her way into a more comfortable position. “I know that this isn’t your deal. But I am really excited that you’re here. Most people go dress shopping with their moms.…” She trailed off and rolled her eyes at her own slip of emotion. “I’m happy I get to do this with my best friends.”
“Of course,” I said, feeling guilty about how impatient I’d been all day. I’d waved off my parents’ offers to accompany me shopping without even considering how much it would have meant to Harper to have that option. Mr. Leonard had just handed her his credit card and an itemized budget for her spending.
I wondered, not for the first time, what Harper’s life would have looked like if her mom had been alive. Would Mrs. Leonard have driven all three of us to the mall? All I could remember about her was her waist-length blond hair. The first time I’d seen her, I’d told Harper she looked like Carol Danvers, the original Ms. Marvel.
“No,” Harper had said, her pale eyebrows drawn together over the big owl glasses she’d worn in kindergarten. “My dad says that she’s a grown-up Supergirl.”
I thought of Harper’s harvest festival costume and trained my eyes on the floor.
“You always have us, Harper.”
“I know.” She smiled. “And the dance wouldn’t be the same without you. You could even go in jeans, if you wanted.”
“No,” I said, patting the armrest between us and climbing out of the chair. “I came to find a dress. I guess I will attempt to track down something not awful.”
She scrunched her nose at me. “Me too. This thing is crazy itchy.”
I wandered out of the dressing area and into the fluorescent-lit and overly perfumed racks of formal dresses. Hangers clattered together as I smashed past a rainbow of sequins and lace. I wasn’t a frilly dress kind of gal. No rhinestones, no straps made of flowers, no puckered skirts. Nothing that could get me confused with a dessert or a disco ball or an overgrown contestant on Toddlers and Tiaras.
I found a rack of black dresses. Black seemed safe. It didn’t immediately scream, “Look at me!” and it wouldn’t require the additional purchase of color-coordinated shoes. I looped a few over my arm at random and marched back to the dressing room to an empty stall.
Stripping out of my T-shirt and jeans, I shimmied in and out of the first three dresses to no avail. I threw each of them back onto their hangers with mounting frustration. As I reached for the next one, my phone buzzed somewhere from the depths of my pile of discarded clothes. I fumbled for it and found a text from Ben:
Found out who the new ap is.
Who? I sent, tapping my heel furiously into the carpet. After two days of no new information, I had let go of my theory that the ranking had been taken down due to a new cheater. If someone had been stuck on probation, word would have traveled fast.
Jack Donnelly, Ben replied.
“What?” I said to the screen as I started typing. Sure, Jack Donnelly was a sinister miscreant, but he was still a Donnelly. Donnellys didn’t cheat. They didn’t need to.
Of course, that could be said for most of the Mess’s student body.
I tried to remember if I’d seen Jack since the ranking came down. He’d been consistently skipping lunch for weeks. I assumed he was sneaking food into the library with him while he crammed over his computer and avoided the rest of us. It had certainly looked like he was studying when I’d run into him.
But maybe cheating and studying were equally taxing.
Peter told me and Cornell, Ben continued. We’re not supposed to know. His parents are contesting the charges.
Can they do that? I asked.
They’re Donnellys. They can do whatever they want.
Apparently, I replied. Thanks for the info.
I tossed my phone back onto my clothes and started to run out of the dressing room before remembering I was still in my underpants. I snatched the nearest dress off its hanger and threw the mass of satin over my head.
“Meg? Harper?” I called, zipping up the back as I tumbled out of the stall.
Two doors opened and the girls popped into the hallway. Meg was back in her regular clothes, clutching a lump of purple tulle.
“Oh, Trixie,” she cried. “You look beautiful!”
“Huh?” I looked down at myself. The black strapless dress that I’d flung on actually fit. And I didn’t resemble a pastry. “Oh. Cool. No, Jack Donnelly is the reason the ranking got taken down. He’s the new probation.”
Harper stumbled forward, tripping over her skirt. She fisted her hands in the fabric and lifted it above her sneakers. “Jack?”
Meg stamped her foot, her cheeks turning an indignant shade of pink. “So, Peter did know what was happening!”
“They’ll have to investigate it if a Donnelly is involved,” Harper said. She paused, clucking so rapidly under her breath that she sounded like a tiny motorboat. “The Donnelly family contributes a lot of money to the school. Peter and Jack’s parents went to the Mess. They were the third or fourth graduating class.”
“But it’s not like Jack didn’t do it,” Meg said. “He’s, you know … Jack.”
Harper frowned. “Being unpleasant doesn’t necessarily make him a cheater.”
“Maybe being a cheater makes him unpleasant,” I said.
Meg hugged her dress closer to her. I spotted a rhinestone hiding under the tulle. “Poor Peter. Did he seem upset when he told you?”
I stared at her in confusion before realizing that neither of the girls would assume that I would have received this information from anyone other than Peter. Harper saved me the trouble of lying.
“Of course he’s upset. His brother could be expelled for this.”
“Cornell and Ben are with him,” I added quickly. “So, at least he’s not dealing with the news alone.”
Harper narrowed her eyes in thought, her tongue making contemplative tsks. “I promised my dad that I would make some cookies for him to take to his office on Monday. I’ll make some extra for Peter, too. I’ll ask Cornell if he knows what kind would be best. Maybe peanut butter.” She nodded through a series of unspoken items on her mental to-do list. Shaking herself back to normal, she looked me up and down imperiously. “You are buying that dress, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.” I smoothed the skirt, running my thumb down the seam on the side. “I think I could probably add a panel of something here. Make it a little wider, give it some personality. When we were buying stuff for the harvest festival, I saw some cool Star Wars fabric.”
Meg’s eyes widened. “You’re going to cut it?”
I gave the skirt a tentative swish. It skimmed against my unpainted toenails like dark water. “Should I not?”
“No, no,” she breathed. “It’s just—that’s going to be so frakking cool.”
“It’s like adding a T-shirt to your formal wear. It’s very Trixie,” Harper agreed. She ran her hands through her hair, letting it fall back into place in fractions. “I think that I’m going to go back for that first pink dress. Do you guys want to stop in the food court?”
“Oh! We can get funnel cake!” Meg squealed.
“And lemonade.” Harper grinned.
“Best plan ever,” I said, laughing. “Someone unzip me so I can be normal again.”
[6:33 PM]
Unknown Number
Hey, it’s Peter. Did you hear that my brother got suspended? I told Cornell he could tell you, Harper, and Meg. My parents don’t want a bunch of people to know.
[6:35 PM]
Me
I heard. Sorry.
[6:42 PM]
Peter
It’s okay. I’m trying to get all of his homework together from 5th and 6th yesterday. Can I get the Programming Languages notes from you?
[6:43 PM]
Me
No problem. Give me an hour or so to type them up?
[6:48 PM]
Peter
Thanks x 10^100
[6:51 PM]
Me
You’re welcome a googolplex.