Page 105 of The Bleak Beginning

“What are you doing here?” I ask, surprised. “And what is that?” I inquire, eyeing the oversized box in her hands.

Aubrey pushes past me into the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “I’m here to rescue you from your self-imposed exile,” she declares, setting the box down on my desk with a thud. “Professor Margot isn’t the only one who has a rebellious streak against this school.”

I eye the box warily. “Aubrey, I’m not going to the masquerade. I’m perfectly content here with Dolores,” I say, tilting my chin in the direction of the window.

She glances at my roommate in the corner, staring blankly. “Yeah, I’m sure you two are having a riveting conversation. Noware you going to open this box, or do I have to do everything myself?”

I sigh, knowing by now that resistance is futile when Aubrey sets her mind to something. I slowly make my way toward the box, hesitant to see what’s inside. With a deep breath, I lift the lid, revealing a breathtaking gown in a vibrant shade of crimson. The rich red fabric is adorned with delicate black tulle and intricate beading that cascades from the waist. To complete the ensemble, there’s a matching mask adorned with shimmering jewels in shades of black.

“Aubrey, I can’t—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.

“You can, and you will,” she insists, her eyes sparkling with mischief behind her mask. “I didn’t spend hours in the wardrobe room picking this out for you to waste it on a plant. It may not be a formal gown like mine,” she gestures to her own floor-length dress, “but I think this one suits you much better.”

I run my fingers over the soft fabric, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety stirring in my chest. “Won’t you get in trouble for taking this? What about—”

“Margot?” Aubrey finishes my thought. “She may not be your biggest fan after your clumsiness, but I know her well enough to know that she’ll be more impressed by your boldness than upset about the dress. Besides, what’s the benefit of having a cousin who’s a Legacy if I can’t pull a few strings now and then?”

My eyes go wide in shock. “Your cousin is a Legacy?”

“Camden,” she says with a drawn-out sigh. “Our dads are half-brother’s. Same mom, different dads,” she says casually, like she’s told this a thousand times before.

I stare at Aubrey, my mind reeling from this revelation. Camden Whitlock is her cousin?

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I ask, still processing this new information.

Aubrey shrugs, her gaze full of playful amusement. “It never came up. Besides, I like to make my own way. Now are you going to put on this dress, or do I have to force you into it?”

This explains so much about Aubrey’s confidence and her ability to navigate the complex social hierarchy of Altair with unaffected ease.

I exhale, my fingers still tracing the intricate embroidery on the dress. “Alright, alright. I’ll wear it.”

Aubrey’s face lights up with triumph. “That’s my girl! Now hurry up and change. We don’t want to be late.”

As I slip inside my bathroom, my mind is still buzzing with the revelation about Aubrey’s family connections.

The dress fits like a glove, hitting above the knee, and hugging my curves in all the right places. When I step out, Aubrey gasps.

“Alex,” she breathes. “You look absolutely stunning. Every eye will be on you tonight.”

“Yeah, because it’s a black-and-white themed masquerade and I’m showing up in a vibrant red dress,” I say, turning to examine myself in the full-length mirror. The scarlet fabric shimmers under the soft lighting, making me look like a dancing flame.

Aubrey grins, her reflection appearing beside mine. “Exactly. You’ll be unforgettable. That’s the whole point.”

I bite my lip, uncertainty creeping in. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Trust me,” Aubrey says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “In these circles, it’s better to be bold than boring.”

“Okay, fine. But if this backfires spectacularly, I’m blaming you.”

Aubrey laughs, a tinkling sound that fills the room. “Fair enough. Now, I’m going to turn on the curling iron while you do your makeup.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too much?” I ask.

“Every day of my life,” Aubrey says, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. “But that’s why people love me.”

I can’t help but smile, shaking my head as I begin applying my foundation. She’s right, of course. Aubrey’s larger-than-life personality is precisely why we’ve become fast friends.

She emerges from the bathroom, curling iron in hand, just as I’m blending one side of my face. She whistles appreciatively. “Damn, girl! You’re looking fierce already. But just wait until I’m done with you.”

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