Chapter 25: Chapter Twenty-Four

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Frills.

Pink, fussy frills everywhere in sight. So many of them, in fact, I feel like I’m being attacked from the waist down by some flamboyant magenta monster. Ava, it appears, as I emerge from the dressing room, shares the same opinion. As soon as she catches a glimpse of my appearance, she’s unable to suppress her laughter and immediately bursts into a fit of giggles.

On the other hand, I’m not so amused.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into trying this.”

My best friend clasps a hand to her mouth in an attempt to contain her amusement. It’s only partially effective, though, as after a moment of quiet another snort escapes her. “Well... it did look better on the hanger.”

“It didn’t look too great then,” I mumble, but as soon as I turn towards the mirror, my own face breaks into a smile. I can definitely see the comedic aspect of my attire; the dress hangs awkwardly, fluffing around me as if I’m stuck in the middle of a giant pink marshmallow. “Why do they even have this?”

“I guess some people are into that kind of thing...” Ava suggests, shrugging.

I dread to think what type of people she’s referring to.

“Wouldn’t it be great if Charlotte turned up in this?” I say, as the image enters my mind. “I don’t even think Connor would be able to stomach her then.”

Unfortunately, I – along with the rest of the planet – know that Charlotte has already found her dress for the Winter Formal. Reserved at an exclusive boutique for weeks beforehand, she never misses an opportunity to boast about it. It’s custom-made, designer and ridiculously expensive; our entire grade is in for a let-down if it doesn’t live up to expectations.

I, on the contrary, have not been so lucky in my dress hunt. That may be on account of the fact I’d barely given the dance a thought until yesterday, when Nathan asked me, let alone considered what I’m going to wear. After being stuck in detention all lunch – with only the ever joyful Mrs. Young for company – I had missed a chance to consult with my on-hand stylist (Ava) about what color, cut and style I should choose. Consequently, she’d called me first thing this morning, demanding the immediate commencement of my search.

Which, I suppose, is kind of sensible. And the reason we’ve been stuck in the mall for hours now, trailing from store to store in the hope of finding something that isn’t frilly, made of sequins, or just downright indecent.

No luck so far.

“I can’t take it; I’ve got to get out of this thing,” I say, shaking my head in despair. I hurry back into the dressing room, eager to escape from this suffocating chiffon prison. After yanking the zipper down and letting it fall at my feet, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Which one’s next?”

“Try the purple one!” Ava calls. “You can’t go wrong with purple.”

An image of my favorite childhood outfit – a bright purple pinafore and matching leggings – that springs to mind begs to differ, but I don’t protest. Instead, I reach up for the other dress that’s hanging on the back of the fitting room door.

As it turns out, my best friend may have had the best idea. Or at least it appears that way as I stand in front of the mirror. Sweeping down to the ground, the dress is made of a light material that swishes slightly with each movement. A halter neck and ruched detailing at the top complete the look,  making the simplicity of the garment its greatest asset.

“That looks great!” Ava enthuses when I step back out.

“You think?” I turn around, trying to get a better look at the back view in the mirror. “Not too plain?”

“Definitely not. It’s perfect, Georgie. You have to get this one.”

It is looking the best option at the minute. The dress is the only one so far that doesn’t make me want to laugh and/or grimace at the sight of my reflection (a good sign). Even better still, deciding upon this means the end to our day long shopping trip, and my aching feet earning their much-needed rest.

I swear I can feel the sole of my sneakers wearing down with every step I’ve taken today.

“Okay,” I say, my face breaking into a smile, “I’ll get it.”

By the time we’ve vacated the dressing room – earning a few dirty looks from the shop assistant at the mess we made – and waited in line at the register, it’s nearing evening and my stomach’s beginning to rumble. All the exercise (yes, it does count as exercise) has drained my energy and the prospect of going home to raid the kitchen is getting more appealing by the second.

“You want to come over for dinner?” I offer, as we head across the busy parking lot in the direction of Ava’s car. Already it’s beginning to get dark, a dusky blanket covering the sky. “I’m sure Mom won’t mind.”

“I can’t,” she answers, grimacing. “My aunt and cousins are visiting for a couple of days, and Mom’s insisting that we all eat together. Ugh, it’s awful. Especially when Scarlet and Stella are just like clones of Lucy.” She shudders exaggeratedly.

I’ve only met Ava’s twin cousins on one brief occasion, but that was enough. Whatever genes produced her bratty sister apparently came in handy for them, too. Just thinking of their whiny voices and temperamental nature is enough to induce a great deal of sympathy for her. She deserves some kind of award for dealing with her extensive list of annoying family members without ripping anyone’s hair out.

We reach the car and I toss my bags onto the back seat. “Sounds it. Well, if they get too unbearable, you’re always welcome to crash at my place.”

“Thanks.”

I hop into the passenger’s seat, fastening my belt as Ava ignites the engine. The ride back to my house is quick; there’s a surprising lack of traffic on the road, despite the time of day. We’re able to breeze the distance between the mall and my place in just under ten minutes.

I shoot Ava a grateful smile when we pull up by my driveway. “Thanks for the ride,” I say, retrieving my bags. “And don’t forget the offer of dinner at mine’s still open.”

“I won’t.” She shakes her head as I hop out. Just as I’m about to close the door behind me, the sound of her voice causes me to stop. “Georgie?”

“Yeah?”

When I turn to look at her, I can’t help but notice she’s looking tentative, as if debating what she’s about to say. “Um... this whole dance thing. You’re not going to... hurt Nathan through all of this, are you?”

I can’t help but be taken aback by her wide-eyed expression, blinking up at me. For a moment I’m lost for words, wondering what’s brought on this sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just... with Connor and everything. It seems like Nathan’s going to get hurt.”

I swallow. “He won’t,” I say, borrowing confidence from somewhere other than myself. In truth, I’m just as unsure about the situation as she is. “It’ll all work out in the end. I’ll figure it out.”

Ava nods and we exchange goodbyes but, as I’m walking up the front path, her words seem to be stuck on replay in my head. As if I didn’t feel guilty enough about the kiss, now I’ve got my best friend on my case. Maybe it’s wrong to keep leading Nathan on, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t exactly dump him before the dance. That would make an even bigger mess than the one I’m in now.

It’s hard to believe, in the space of a few weeks, how complicated my life has gotten. Just two months ago, the hardest decision I had to make was what DVD to rent on a Saturday night. Now I seem to be caught in the dreaded middle ground between two guys, drifting between one that’s trying to pull me in, and the other that’s pushing me away.

Or am I? Is there even a debate about this? Connor obviously wants nothing to do with me, and maybe a few days ago, I’d have said the feeling was mutual. The kiss has thrown everything off; now, I’m barely able to identify my own feelings.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I unlock the front door and step inside. “Mom?”

“Kitchen,” she calls back cheerily, and I follow the sound of her voice. Sure enough, she’s there, dashing back and forth between a bubbling pot on the stove and a stack of exercise books on the table, all in need of marking. “Good shopping trip?” she asks when she sees me enter.

“Yeah, I found a dress.”

“You did? That’s great!” She scribbles something in the top book before dropping her pen and hurrying to stir whatever she’s cooking.

“Multitasking?” I say, the corner of my lips twitching into a smile. I go over and take the wooden spoon from her hand, digging it into the pot. “Here, I’ve got the stove.”

“Thanks, honey. I thought your dad would be cooking, but he’s staying an extra hour at work. Hence why this was left to me.”

I peer into the pot, my eyes narrowing when they’re greeted with the sight of a suspicious-looking liquid, bubbling under the heat. It’s got a strong – yet weirdly indistinguishable – aroma that assaults my nose as soon as I take a whiff. Needless to say, I’m not holding out much hope for an edible, let alone tasty, meal tonight. “Um, Mom? What is this?”

“Um...” There’s a pause, in which I sincerely hope she hasn’t forgotten what she’s supposed to be cooking. “Some kind of stew? I don’t know, I found the recipe online.”

“Oh. Right.”

I take another look, half hoping it will have transformed into something that looks remotely appetizing in the time my gaze has been elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, it’s still a thick bubbling mixture, a color stuck between deep red and brown.

It doesn’t exactly give off an “eat me!” impression, to say the least.

“Oh! I know what I was going to tell you,” Mom says, looking up at me from her seat at the table. I keep one hand on the wooden spoon, continuously stirring in the hopes that mixing madly will somehow improve the appeal of tonight’s meal. It’s not likely, but I’m willing to try. “We’re heading out to the cabin on Saturday morning. That okay with you?”

It’s not a surprising piece of news; going to the cabin has been an annual occurrence of the Howard family for as long as I remember. Every year, for Christmas and New Year, we all head to Grandma and Grandpa’s holiday place. It’s been in our family for over twenty years now, and doesn’t hold much back story apart from the fact that it was a total impulse buy on Grandpa’s part, and has been well-used by all of us ever since. The place is big enough for the whole clan and situated in quiet woodland just out of town. Usually we spend a week or two out there (as long as it takes for everyone to get tired of each other – we usually make an escape before any arguments have a chance to start).

“Yeah, okay. Is Brandon flying out?”

“Uh huh.” Mom smiles, and I can’t help but do the same. We haven’t seen him since the summer, and it’s not difficult to tell she misses having him around the house. I do too – although admittedly not to the same extent – as the place has been weirdly empty without my cocky older brother around. “He’s gonna meet us there.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and another thing,” she adds, just as I’ve turned back to the stove, “I invited Julie and Connor along too. That’s okay with you, right?”

As soon as the words register in my mind, I spin on my heel so quickly I don’t have time to release my grip on the spoon. Consequently, my action sends a neat dollop of mystery sauce flying across the room, before landing with remarkable precision on the page of Mom’s open book.

“Georgie!”

“You invited Connor?” I spit, before I have a chance to remove the venom from my tone. A look of pure horror is etched across my face, but my mom is too preoccupied trying to wipe the stain from her student’s book to notice. “What... why?”

She looks up, peering at me curiously. “Why are you so upset about it? I thought you and Connor were friends.”

“We’re... it’s...” I trail off, wondering how she can be so blissfully unaware of the complications between my ex-best friend and I. “The cabin’s a family thing. Our family thing.”

“Well, yes, but they’re practically family, aren’t they?” She continues dabbing at the paper, although all she’s achieving is making the stain even more noticeable than before. “I just feel so sorry for them, with the divorce and all, especially as they’ve got so little family of their own. And they know almost all of us, anyway. Why shouldn’t they come?”

“Because… I mean…” I stammer exasperatedly.

“Why are you so against it?”

“I don’t know… what if it’s awkward? It’s going to be just our family.”

“Georgie,” Mom says softly, shaking her head, “I’ve known Julie since high school. She’s met almost everyone who’ll be there. And have you ever known things to be awkward when she’s around?”

I can’t argue with her there. Julie has such an infectiously bubbly personality, I can’t imagine even a minute of awkwardness with her around. Still, it’s not her that’s the problem. It’s her obnoxious, moody son that’s the reason behind my horrified expression.

“But-”

“It’s going to be hard for them; it’s their first holiday without Richard. Imagine how you’d feel in that position... wouldn’t you be glad to be invited along?”

I sigh, feeling slightly defeated. “I guess so.”

“You don’t really have a problem with it, do you?” she asks after a moment of silence, causing me to look up.

Obviously, the answer’s yes. The upcoming holidays had been a chance to escape all this drama; suddenly they’ve become a breeding ground for it. Who knows what will happen if Connor and I are forced to spend that amount of time together? But there’s no way I can avoid this without telling my mom all that’s gone on in the weeks he’s been here. The glares, the arguments, not to mention the mysterious kiss… pretty much everything that’s happened between us. And I can’t do that. She’s under the impression the two of us can actually tolerate each other’s presence – and that we’re on the brink of becoming best friends again – with absolutely no idea of the obvious friction. I can’t break her heart by revealing pretty much the opposite is true.

Which is why, as much as it pains me, I take a deep breath and say, “No. I don’t have a problem.”

Her face breaks into a smile. “So it’s settled then. Hey, why don’t you show me the dress you got?”

I force a smile and open my bag, doing my best to ignore the feeling of foreboding building inside me. If anything’s for certain, it’s this: I’m in for a holiday season that’s going to be anything but joyful.

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So... who's excited for the dance? And the cabin? It feels weird to be writing about Christmas/New Year time in June... although it's not as if it actually feels like summer right now. Looking out of my window all I can see is rain :(

Only 3 more exams to go! There's a light at the end of the tunnel. I'm so excited for them to be over, and can actually get back into writing again. Maybe I'll start my new story. I can't think of anything else to say right now, other than that I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Until next time! <3