Page 11 of Feel Free to Scream

I feel incredibly lame.

“Wait, this one!” Lily says as I pull out one of my shirts; white, with a layer of lace, and then a top underneath.

It’s rather pretty, but I literally wore it to accompany Grandma to brunch.

“Yeah?”

She nods eagerly. “Yep. With one of my skirts. Give me a second. Do you have tights? And heels. You’re going to need heels.”

She hops back onto her side of the room as I look at my five pairs of shoes.

I am pretty certain that by heels, she doesn’t mean two-inch tall Mary Janes or loafers, but that’s all I have.

“The red ones,” she says, pointing to the first pair of heels. “And this.”

“Hell no.”

She’s holding a pleated leather skirt, high-waisted, and shorter than anything I’ve ever worn in my entire life.

“Hell yes.”

5

CLAIRE

There’s no date, or even time, on the invite. I’m not sure when we should show up, so I defer to Lily on that point.

She might not have been invited to a party in one of the private student houses before, but she’s as confident now as she is about everything else. “I’d say eleven or so.”

“Eleven!” I repeat.

That’s about when I usually go tosleep.

“Ten at the earliest, but expect to help set up. No one really shows up before that to any college party.”

That’s my first cue that this party isn’t going to be like any of those I’ve attended with Noah and his friends. As jocks, his crew and the football players had a lot more parties than the rest of our old high school, and they did get pretty crazy, but they tended to end around one. I don’t think I’ve shown up after eight or stayed until past midnight before. I bite my lip nervously. If it weren’t for Lily, I wouldn’t go at all, but she is eager at the prospect, and I don’t want to disappoint her.

I won’t deny a part of me is curious about a number of things: witnessing how rich college people party, seeing how I’d feel in Lily’s tiny skirt. Plenty of girls my age wear skirts just like this, or even shorter, but not me. Never me. It looks pretty. I feel attractive here, in front of the full-length mirror hung over the wardrobe’s door. But what would it be like out there, with people looking at my bare legs? My stomach flutters each time I think about it, sometimes with dread, other times with excitement. I half expect someone to point to the skirt and declare that I’ve violated some sort of cardinal law by wearing it, and that I’d better change into a knee-length full skirt right this second. Probably my grandma. But she isn’t here.

“I’m not going to stay long,” I warn her.

Lily shrugs. “Me neither, probably. None of my friends will be there except you. We can leave when you wanna leave.”

I nod gratefully, some of my anxiety dissipating.

I really lucked out in the roommate department. Looking around as she’s finishing hanging up her cosplay, it’s evident that Lily’s both tidy and fond of pretty things. Her side of the room has a number of personal touches, like a throw that looks so soft flung over her bed, two colorful pillows nearby.

We order pad thai from a little place she recommends—the best and cheapest food I’ve eaten so far in town—and then, she has to excuse herself to see some of her pals for drinks. She does invite me, but one party is enough socializing for the day, so I decline, making it clear I’d love to another time.

While she’s gone, I try to nap, but I’m too wired, so I just read while listening to music.

As soon as I’m alone, something ugly and shameful crosses my mind. I should text Noah. I should tell him I’m going to a party. I don’t. I should have told him about Darius Keller, too. I certainly didn’t. It doesn’t seem worth it in light of yesterday’s argument.

But the nugget of guilt grows larger as I time passes. Finally, I give in, glancing at my phone.

I haven’t talked to him much since last night, but there are several messages from his end.

Noah: You know I didn’t mean to call you a charity case. It’s odd though. It’s a lot of money.

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