“Do you want me to smack you with the cushion again?” Ridley asked. “Because clearly it didn’t work the first time.” She placed one hand over Meera’s and said, “There is nothing you did wrong. I’m just … I don’t know, everything’s been a little weird since that man died outside my home.”
“Understatement of the year,” Meera muttered, which Ridley couldn’t agree with more.
“Look, I can’t speak for Shen,” she told Meera, “but you and I will always be friends, okay?”
Meera let out a long sigh. “Okay. Good. But I can’t promise I will ever like Archer Davenport, so don’t expect us to go on any double dates or anything.”
Ridley couldn’t help laughing at that ludicrous idea. “There will never be any double dates, because Archer and I will never be dating.”
“Good to know.” Meera leaned down toward her bag and removed a large hair clip from the strap. As she twisted her shiny black hair into a knot and fastened it with the clip, she asked, “So what are you wearing? I know you have a few dresses for Wallace Academy events, but they’re not the glitzy, glam, figure-hugging, red carpet type dress you’re probably supposed to wear to an evening event hosted by Aurelia Davenport.”
Ridley raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been streaming too much of that entertainment news show.”
“Hey, give me a break, it’s my one guilty pleasure. And thank goodness one of us watches it, or you’d show up in the wrong kind of dress. You’re probably still going to show up in the wrong kind of dress because I know you don’t own anything that looks like what I’ve seen on Celeb News Nightly.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Ridley said. “But my mom had plenty of dresses like that.”
Meera paused. She’d clearly been about to say something else before Ridley mentioned her mother. “Your mom?” she asked carefully.
“Yes. So, I know this might sound weird, but part of my dad’s wardrobe still has a bunch of her stuff, including her fancy dresses. I don’t really have any other option, so … I thought I’d wear one of them. Obviously the styles will be a bit outdated, but if I pick something that’s sort of simple and classic, then it should be okay, right?”
“Okay,” Meera said slowly. “That could work. If you don’t feel super weird about it.”
“Well, it does feel weird. But also … maybe …” Ridley lifted her shoulders. “Kind of cool? To wear something that used to be hers?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Meera nodded, but Ridley could tell she was still a little uncertain about the idea. “Are the dresses still in good condition?” she asked.
“I think so. I don’t actually know, but they’re inside those special garment bags, so they’re probably fine. Do you want to go look?”
“In your dad’s bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“He won’t mind us being in there?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Ridley didn’t admit that she hadn’t actually asked her father. But he’d given her Mom’s scarves when she asked, and he’d never told her she couldn’t touch any of Mom’s other things. Ridley’s reasons for not asking about the dresses had more to do with not wanting to dredge up old memories that would cause Dad pain. And also because she hadn’t told him about tonight’s party. She was hoping she’d be able to sneak out without Dad seeing her and let him think she was spending the evening at Meera’s.
“Okay, cool, let’s have a look,” Meera said, sounding a little more enthusiastic than she had at first.
They walked into Dad’s bedroom, and Ridley stopped in front of the side of the wardrobe he never used. She gripped the handle, paused, and took a steadying breath before pulling it open to reveal several garment bags, two coats, a scarf hanger, and a few shoe boxes. Then she wrapped her arms around her middle, simply staring, working up the courage to remove the garment bags from the wardrobe.
“Ridley?” Meera asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” She uncrossed her arms and stepped forward. She removed the bags one at a time and handed them to Meera, who lay them out on Dad’s bed. There were eight in total, which was only a fraction of the dresses Ridley remembered her mom owning. She wondered what had happened to the others. Then she wondered why Dad had kept any of them at all. “Okay, let’s look inside.” Her fingers trembled just a little as she reached for the zip at the top of the first bag.
Memories flooded her mind as she opened each bag: Mom getting dressed and styling her dark, glossy hair in her expansive bedroom up on the hundred and fifty-second floor of Aura Tower. Mom twirling in front of the floor-length mirror in the apartment’s entrance hall. Mom’s smooth, powdered cheek brushing against Ridley’s as she said goodnight before leaving with Dad for whatever event they were attending. Ridley could almost smell Mom’s perfume, could almost feel her arms wrapping around her.
“Ridley?” Meera asked again, and Ridley realized she’d been standing motionless with her arms at her sides, staring at the four dresses she’d revealed so far.
She inhaled deeply before clearing her throat. “Yes?”
“What about this one?” Meera asked, pointing to the bag she’d just opened. The gap in the garment bag revealed glittery, powder blue fabric. “Blue looks good on you,” Meera continued. “And the style seems to be fairly simple.” She unzipped the bag fully and removed the dress. “Yes, it’s just long and strapless. Nothing too dated about it.” She lifted the dress and turned it around. “And it laces up at the back, so that’s good. Makes it slightly adjustable, in case you’re not exactly the same size your mom was.”
Ridley nodded. “Yeah, that looks good.” She opened the remaining bags to see what her other options were, but Meera was right. The blue dress was the best. She returned the other garment bags to the wardrobe and closed the doors as Meera draped the blue dress and its bag over her arm. “I’m gonna have a shower before getting ready. If you don’t want to wait around, I understand. You can—”
“Of course I’m going to wait, silly,” Meera said as she followed Ridley out of the room. “Who’s going to lace you up if I’m not here?”
“Oh, right, I didn’t think of that.”
“Exactly. Go shower. I’ll catch up on Celeb News Nightly.”
When Ridley was done in the shower, she found Meera lounging on her bed with a commpad propped against a pillow. “I still can’t believe you watch that stuff,” she said as she quickly pulled on some underwear.
“Yeah, well, I’m tired of watching documentaries and the news and other intellectual stuff. I keep seeing the same story about Lawrence Madson’s murder, because apparently there’s nothing else to report.”
Ridley paused while removing the dress from its hanger. “Oh, has there been some new development?”
“Yes, something about an eye-witness coming forward yesterday.” Meera paused her celebrity show and looked at Ridley. “Some guy who said he was on the private balcony next to the one Lawrence was murdered on. There was something that partially obstructed his view—plants or whatever—but apparently he saw part of what happened.”
An icy finger of fear trailed down Ridley’s spine. “Really?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.
“Yeah, but it’s probably just someone looking for attention,” Meera said. “I mean, why did it take him four days to go to the police with this information? That sounds suspicious to me.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ridley said, feeling a tiny bit better. Hopefully Meera was right. She couldn’t remember being able to see onto the balcony next to Lawrence’s one. Wasn’t that the point of having private balconies? So that no one could see what was going on?
She did her best to push her concerns to the back of her mind as she stepped carefully into the dress. Meera climbed off the bed to help with the laces at the back. After what seemed like a whole lot of tugging and adjusting, Meera said, “Okay, I think that’s fine.”
Ridley turned both ways in front of her wardrobe mirror as she tried to see herself from all angles. “
Do you think it fits properly?” she asked, sliding her hands down her sides and over her hips.
“Um, yes.” Meera pushed her glasses up her nose and moved to Ridley’s side. “Mostly. It’s just the bust that looks a little loose. Your mom must have had bigger boobs than you.”
Ridley laughed. “Yeah, she did. It’s fine, let me put on my other strapless bra. It has more padding.”
“Okay great. ’Cause I don’t think I can lace the dress any tighter than it already is. Ugh, wait.” Meera made a face at her. “This means we have to do the laces all over again, right?”
Ridley gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes, sorry.”
After the bra-switch and redoing the laces, Meera decided Ridley looked a little better in the bust department. She returned to the bed, and Ridley moved on to her hair next. Fortunately, she’d attended enough stuffy Wallace Academy events that she could pull of a half-decent hairdo when the need arose. While other girls went to a salon to get their hair done, Ridley and Meera had spent a number of hours during their first year at Wallace watching DIY hairstyle videos online.
“That looks good,” Meera said from Ridley’s bed, pausing Celeb News Nightly as Ridley finished pinning her hair into a loose French twist that left stray pieces of hair framing her face.
“Thanks.” Ridley turned her back to the wardrobe mirror and held her commscreen up, using it as a second mirror to check the back of her head. “A-plus for hair,” she decided.
“Oh my gosh, if only it were a real course at school,” Meera said. “I feel like we would ace it. We’ve certainly learned way more than all those girls who hire stylists to come to their homes or book their salon appointments before every Wallace Academy event.”
“Definitely. Okay, just makeup, and then I’m done.” Ridley headed to the tiny bathroom she shared with Dad and opened the second drawer of the cabinet beneath the basin. She removed the bag with her small makeup collection and set about applying as little as she figured she could get away with.
She was almost done when her commscreen, sitting on the edge of the basin, lit up and started singing as it displayed Archer’s face. With one half of the mascara container in each hand, she tapped the screen with her pinky finger. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked as she leaned closer to the mirror and carefully dragged the end of the mascara wand over her lashes.
“Are you there?” Archer asked, and Ridley realized the only thing her commscreen could see was the bathroom ceiling.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.” She waved the mascara wand over her commscreen before bringing it back to her eyelashes. “Just busy.”
“Oh, hey. Um, what time shall I come pick you up?”
“Pick me up?” Done with the lashes on one eye, she began applying mascara to the other. “I’ll just meet you there. It’s inside Aura Tower, right?”
“Yes, the ballroom level. But if you’re meeting me here, that means you have to walk down a grimy street and sit in a grimy bus while you’re all dressed up.”
“So?” She lowered the mascara wand and leaned over the commscreen. “You know I’ve been doing that for years, right? How do you think I get myself to every Wallace Academy event?”
“Uh …”
She screwed the mascara cap back on and dropped it into the makeup bag. “Not something you’ve ever thought about, obviously.”
“Just let me bring one of our cars. It’s not a big deal.”
“One of our cars?” Meera shouted from the bedroom, and Ridley realized she was listening in on the conversation.
“What was that?” Archer asked.
“Nothing,” Ridley told him, trying to keep her laugh to herself. “Look, don’t be weird about this, okay? I’ll see you there.” She swiped at her commscreen to end the call. Looking up, she saw Meera in the mirror’s reflection, leaning in the doorway. “Are my calls more entertaining than your celeb show?” Ridley asked, one brow arched.
Ignoring the question, Meera said, “I can’t believe that Archer-freaking-Davenport has your number and just, like, casually calls you.”
Ridley shook her head, but there was a smile on her lips as she returned her makeup bag to the cabinet. “He’s just a guy. Once upon a time he was an annoying little boy who teased his sister and her friends and tried to gross us out with things like mud and frogs and snot. He even flashed his bare butt at us once.”
Meera slapped a hand over her mouth as she burst out laughing. “That did not happen,” she said between snorts of laughter.
“True story.” Ridley turned to face Meera. “It’s hard to think of Archer Davenport as this superior, intimidating celebrity when you’ve seen his seven-year-old ass.”
Meera tilted her head back, laughter consuming her. But as she recovered, her smile slowly slipped away. “Sometimes I forget you had this whole other life before I met you. The kind of life you and I make fun of now.”
“Well, fortunately, I don’t have that life anymore,” Ridley said, “or it would be kind of awkward for you and me to make fun of it.”
A small smile returned to Meera’s lips. “Yeah. Anyway, you look amazing. I wasn’t sure about this dress idea when you suggested it—I thought it might be weird—but it really is special to wear something of your mom’s.”
“It is,” Ridley agreed, pushing aside the small part of her that wanted to cry every time she thought about Mom never seeing her like this. She checked the time on her commscreen as she walked out of the bathroom. “I’ll probably leave in about twenty minutes. Wouldn’t want to be too early. That would be awkward.”
They spent the next twenty minutes watching more Celeb News Nightly, Meera lying on the bed and Ridley sitting uncomfortably upright in her desk chair. When it was almost time to leave, she removed an appropriate purse from the top shelf of her wardrobe and, while Meera wasn’t looking, slipped a copy of the letter inside.
Meera paused the show, scooted to the edge of the bed, and stood. “Okay, let me just grab my things.” They walked through to the living room, where Meera quickly packed her commpad and notebooks back into her school bag.
“Can I ask one more favor?” Ridley asked. “Can you leave just before me and go through the front of the store?”
Meera raised an eyebrow. “So you can sneak out the back without your Dad seeing you?”
Ridley pressed her lips into a guilty smile. “Maybe.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
“He thinks I’m spending the evening with you.”
Meera groaned. “You know I can’t lie. What if he asks me something? And won’t he think it’s weird that you’re not leaving with me now?”
“You don’t have to say anything. He’ll just think I’m joining you later.”
“Ugh, okay. I’ll try to leave as quickly as possible.”
Meera descended the stairs, and Ridley tiptoed—slightly difficult in heels, but she made it work—a few steps behind her. “Thanks for your help,” she whispered just as Meera reached the bottom step.
“You’re welcome,” Meera whispered back, looking over her shoulder. “I hope it’s a fun evening.” Then she crossed the back room and walked into the store. “Bye, Mr. Kayne,” she said loudly, and it sounded to Ridley like she might almost be running—a risky activity in an antique store with narrow aisles between overloaded tables, cabinets and shelves. Ridley tiptoed down the last few stairs, listening for a crash. When it didn’t come, she figured Meera must have made it to the other side of the store. She hurried as quietly as possible across the room toward the back door. She inserted her key—
“Ridley?”
She froze, then slowly turned around. Dad stood at the back of the store beside his desk. For several moments, the two of them simply stared at one another. Ridley’s heart pounded wildly, and her hand tightened around her purse. Her father’s expression was unreadable. Eventually he said, “That’s …”
“Mom’s dress,” Ridley quietly filled in when it seemed Dad couldn’t finish his sentence.
&nb
sp; “Where are you going?” he asked. She still couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t seem angry, which was a relief, but she worried he might be feeling something worse.
“Archer invited me to a party,” she said, the idea of making up some story not even crossing her mind. She’d told Meera the truth—most of it, at least—so she may as well tell Dad the truth too.
A frown creased his features. “I thought you didn’t like Archer.”
“I thought you didn’t like him either,” she replied.
“Is that why you didn’t tell me about this party?” He walked into the back room and stopped in front of her. “You didn’t think I’d approve of you going out somewhere with him?”
“It isn’t like that,” she said, skirting the question. “It isn’t a date. Just a birthday party his mother is organizing for someone, and she expects Archer to be there. I somehow ended up agreeing to go with him. And, I mean, he’s not that bad. He’s …”
“Not the same person who left the city over a year ago?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Sounds stupid, I know,” Ridley said with a brief eye-roll. “But I guess with everything he’s ended up getting involved in, he couldn’t help but change.”
Dad nodded. “I agree. It was a shock to me when he turned up several months ago, needing a place to hide. But he quickly convinced me he was on our side.” Dad scrubbed one hand through his unkempt salt-and-pepper hair. “We spoke a lot then, and he isn’t the person I thought he was. Or at least, he isn’t the person he’s always allowed the media to portray him as. Anyway. I, uh …” He cleared his throat and lowered his arm. “Well, I know we’ve never had any serious discussion about boyfriends—”
“Oh, gosh,” Ridley groaned.
“—because you’ve never found anyone you wanted to go out with more than a handful of times.”
“You know why.”
“Yes, because it’s hard to keep the whole magic thing hidden when you’re getting that close to someone, but—”
“Dad, please.” Ridley’s face was just about on fire by now.
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