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New Year’s Eve, Ophelia endured Bianca fussing over her hair with still no sign of Adrian. “For crying out loud, Dad just died, and we only have two days until we have to go back to school. I just want to stay home and cry and finish the Star Wars movie marathon.”
Bianca wound her hair around a pink curler and whimpered. “You’re not going to hide in the closet with your books again, are you?”
“It’s either that or I throw large and breakable objects.” Ophelia folded her arms, thrust out her lower lip, and did not care. She’d already hidden in the closet once that day.
“Dog, I hate grief. Can’t you be the strong one again today? I can’t go to the party without you. Daddy would have loved these dresses. I showed him the design and the fabric, but he never got to see them made.”
Ophelia glared at their cobalt blue dresses lying over her sister’s bed. She was just mad, mad as hell, and none of it was fair.
“Please.” Bianca sniffled.
Ophelia let go a great breath, face hot. “Okay, fine, but then I’m coming straight home and beating the crap out of something.”
A moment of silence passed. Bianca’s sniffling stopped and was followed hard upon with snickering. “I heard the snowman out front saying Jar-Jar Binks was the real father of Luke Skywalker. I say he’s asking for it and you should rig him up with Daddy’s fireworks.”
A laugh burst out of Ophelia’s lips as sparkles and whistles blew snow chunks through her imagination.
Nevertheless, she cringed when her sister tied the last ribbon on her corset an hour later. “I can’t believe you’re making me wear this. Weren’t these things outlawed in the 1920’s?”
“Hold still. I have to make sure the ribbons flow properly from the back.”
“Oh, good grief.” Ophelia stood on the stool, arms folded.
A knock sounded on the front door.
“I’ll get it.” Mom yelled through the vent.
Ophelia drummed her fingers on her forearm.
Mom was staying home with Kiska. “Oh, Brandon, you’re here and you’re so handsome. Flowers? Thank you. Are you hungry?”
“No, Mum. I...I mean, no, ma’am.”
Ophelia rubbed her brow, thinking maybe it was Harry Potter’s turn for a movie marathon. “Don’t British kids call their mothers ‘mum’ or ‘mummy’ or something like that?”
“I think so.” Bianca smoothed a hand over the shimmering skirt and ruffles, too preoccupied with the coming party to truly process the question or why Ophelia asked it.
“The girls will be down soon,” Mom continued. “Might as well watch the game with Jimmy. The Alaska Aces are playing the Utah Grizzlies, a charity game benefiting breast cancer research.” A pause of silence. “It’s hockey, you know, Alaska, lots of ice.”
“Ah, yes. Thank you.”
“Have you seen Adrian? Ophelia’s worried sick about him.”
Incomprehensible emotion charged suddenly through Ophelia. “I am not.”
“Yes, she is.” Bianca yelled. “Okay, step down and put on the shoes.”
Ophelia stepped down and lifted the knee-length skirt to find the cobalt blue dyed-to-match pumps.
Bianca created the satin dresses based on inspiration from Padme’s picnic gown in Star Wars, Episode II. The corseted bodice pushed up her cleavage. The strapless design was emphasized by long, satin gloves. She’d sewn dozens of tiny diamond-like sequins into the bodice and ribbons replaced laces cinching the back.
“These dresses look more The Other Boleyn Girl than Star Wars.” Ophelia slid her feet into the shoes and winced at the pointy toes’ crunch. “Did you mix up the Natalie Portman movies again?”
“Yes, but if you try to sort them before we leave, I will kill you, I swear to dog.” Bianca tied a blue ribbon across Ophelia’s forehead. She looped it in with her dark red curls, which were brushed back, fastened with a gold barrette and allowed to tumble down her back. “We are so devastatingly beautiful.”
The dog wagged his tail nearby.
Bianca pointed at him. “Don’t you dare touch us.”
Kiska whined.
“Let’s go.” Bianca grabbed her party purse and tossed a matching one to Ophelia.
The purses were tiny and dyed-to-match satin too, with long golden chains to dangle from their shoulders.
“Is all this really necessary?” Ophelia sighed and followed her sister.
Bianca rolled her eyes.
“Score!” Jimmy yelled downstairs. The Aces must have gained a point.
Bianca stepped out the door and dragged Ophelia with her.
Fixated on the televised hockey game, Brandon leapt up and thrust both fists into the air. “Score!” A full second off, he was trying so hard to be a regular guy.
Jimmy looked up at Bianca and grinned.
In response, Brandon looked up too and his mouth fell open when he looked at Ophelia. “Wow.”
Ophelia’s stomach sickened. Where’s Adrian? She swallowed and stepped down the stairs after her sister.
Brandon winced.
Ophelia pasted on a smile. “Sorry. I don’t really like dressing up and parties, but if I don’t go, Bianca will fall apart.”
Brandon took her hand and kissed it like a prince from an old movie. He wore a fine black suit and gray striped tie. “You’re very beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
Mom emerged from her bedroom in faded jeans and her oldest University of Alaska sweatshirt. It still had a stain from when Bianca puked on her as a toddler.
“You’re not going?” Bianca’s whine hit a shrill new octave.
Ophelia elbowed her hard and glared too.
“Oh, right,” said Bianca, quickly. “The middle-aged old farts would probably already start hitting on you.”
Togo, Alaska, was famous for, among other things, having twice as many men as women. No heterosexual female stayed unhitched for long.
But Dad was so awesome, he’d be an impossible act to follow, surely.
Mom didn’t seem to hear them in any case. “Ophelia, where’s the gift basket?” It was impossible to tell she’d once been pregnant with twins, or that she’d breastfed them for a year. Truth was, she’d probably get a lot of attention from younger guys too, once she updated her hairstyle.
Bianca claimed it was all about the ‘Miracle Bra’ she’d bought for their mother on-line, as if she needed to take credit for everything.
“Pantry.” Ophelia could also tell grief had cost her mother a few pounds. She watched her return to the kitchen, pausing to smell a bouquet of pink carnations. It was a rare gift in the middle of an Alaskan winter, symbolic of a mother’s undying love. Life.
Brandon shuffled on his feet and avoided eye contact. He must have found them in Mrs. Langdon’s greenhouse.
Ophelia checked her watch, holding her wrist close to see the numbers. “Bianca, are you almost done fussing over everyone, so we can go and get this over with?”
Bianca walked back through. “Mom! Ophelia needs new contact lenses!”
“Will you stop yelling? I swear you can’t be quiet to save your life.”
Mom peeked through the curtains. “Jimmy, drive like you’re about eighty-eight years old or you’ll never eat in my house again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jimmy saluted her like she was the captain. He seemed to be picking up the use of ‘ma’am’ from Brandon and Adrian too.
Mom kissed her daughters. “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to know about because I will find out sooner or later. And then you’ll both be grounded until you’re 33.”
“All right, let’s go.” Bianca tossed Ophelia’s black dress coat to Brandon and her identical one to Jimmy.
“Does anyone know if the Brynners were invited?” Jimmy slipped the long wool coat over Bianca’s shoulders.
Ophelia tensed at the question. “No, but the Langdons are too polite to turn them away if they show up.”
***
THE LANGDON’S HOUSE was lit up in the night; the trees out front still in their Christmas regalia. An old yellow farmhouse, it was the biggest in town.
Besides the Brynner’s brand-new contemporary.
The party was in the hangar.
Mr. Langdon was a retired airline pilot. His three vintage aircraft were parked in front of the hangar, collecting snowflakes and draped with multi-colored Christmas lights, while the party rocked inside.
Adrian’s father was a pilot. Ophelia touched the red Cessna airplane as Brandon carried her past, following Jimmy carrying Bianca.
“I like airplanes, too.” Brandon’s breath did not come out in white clouds like hers.
“You do? Have you flown much?”
“Actually, the trip over the Atlantic Ocean was my first.”
The music blasted them as the side door opened.
Brandon set her down inside.
The rack was already full of coats, but Bianca found some room. She received a kiss on her shoulder from Jimmy when he slipped off hers and hung it up.
Likewise, Brandon touched cold lips to Ophelia’s shoulder when he helped her out of her coat too.
Cold. More thoughts fell into order, but this cold one morphed into something else. Brother? She cringed away from him.
Brandon’s eyes widened. “Oh. Yeah. Ew.” Finally, he got it.
“There’s Adrian.” Bianca shouted as she bounced out onto the dance floor with Jimmy.
“Where?” Ophelia scanned the floor. Wait, I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s here. She stood on tiptoes to see over an old miner. Where is he?
The local dance club owner, who specialized in Swing, led the crowd, spinning, twirling, and dipping to music made mostly by a brass band in the corner.
The Langdons waved from the snack table where Mom appeared to be refusing a dance with one of the junior high teachers.
Geez, Dad’s not even cold in the grave. Ophelia saw him. Adrian.
In the darkness spinning with disco lights, Adrian spun Katelyn under his arm and back, clasping hands and swinging out again among the other couples. He looked really hot in a royal blue silk shirt.
Katelyn. Something boiled in Ophelia’s chest. She was sure he hadn’t even noticed her come in or who she was with. I throw him out of the house once. She ducked under Brandon’s arm and sneaked behind a couple of fishermen in red plaid. Peeking from behind a glittering ‘Happy New Year’ banner, she saw Adrian spin Katelyn out and then into his arms. I am gonna knock his freakin’ head off. She snuck behind the photographer’s corner where a portly old couple smooched for the camera.
A small kitchen was set up in the back, complete with frig and a serving bar.
Ophelia ducked behind Father Wings, who was talking to a bunch of fishermen and their wives about the upcoming crab season. Her attention was grabbed by a dozen little somethings, small and white in a carton next to a mixing bowl. Eggs.
She remembered Adrian pelting Martin with an egg. If it’s good for the gander, it’s good for the goose. She feigned interest in a star-shaped cookie and snatched an egg. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. Maybe I really have gone nuts.
Blending in with the fishermen and their wives, Ophelia pretended to listen while inching closer to a gaggle of cheerleaders in red taffeta.
The cheerleaders, especially Katelyn, were always socially stabbing each other in the back and would make convenient scapegoats.
Heck, they’ll probably rip each other’s hair out on the dance floor. No one would suspect Ophelia unless they actually saw her throw the egg. She was the sweet Dawson twin who always colored inside the lines and never raised her voice.
If only Bianca could hear the potty-talk going on in my head right now. Ophelia stepped back and pitched the egg right into the back of Katelyn’s head.
The subsequent scream could have shattered the polar icecap.
Ophelia dropped to all fours and scurried under the party favor table, snagging her dress on a chair.
Nothing toppled over when she freed herself and she peeked between the streamers draped over the table cloth.
The music screeched to a halt as Katelyn’s screams rose over it.
Adrian had vanished.
Katelyn turned around and round, raw egg dripping all over her head. She tried to wipe it off. “It was Ophelia Dawson. She’s obsessed with Adrian Grayer, the two-timing little bitch.”
Mrs. Cox waddled to her rescue. “Now, now, everyone knows Ophelia Dawson is incapable of such behavior.” She took Katelyn’s elbow and led her away to clean up.
Bianca’s hysterical laughter rose above the wailing. “Oh, my dog, I didn’t do it, but I sure wish I had.”
The music started up again, someone wiped the floor, and the couples jumped right back into dancing, this time to an upbeat pop version of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.’ Ophelia turned to crawl out from under the table’s end and bashed noses with a familiar face. “Adrian.”
“Shhh.” Adrian kissed her lips. “Nice shot, by the way.”
“Hey. I’m still mad at you for being a freakin’ lunatic.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to kiss you every time you said my name.”
“Oh, good grief, Adrian.” Ophelia rolled eyes and received another kiss.
“You’ve been very naughty.”
“I was inspired by the presence of a master.”