Page 174 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Oh my god!” Ev groans, grabs one of my throw pillows and burrows her face into it. “I hate girls like you!”
“Like what?” I pull a face.
She peers up at me. “You are perfect! Stick thin, long legs, boobs that aren’t too big, a bum and hips that magically fit into any jeans.”
I roll my eyes. “Skinny girls can be insecure, too! Don’t be so stereotypical.”
“Oh, shut it, the both of you,” Mum mutters, a pin sticking out of her mouth. She holds up my tutu and gestures for me to go over. She slips it on for me while I hold her shoulders for balance. “Like a glove,” she admires. No matter how big or small or the reason, my mother is always so proud of her work. You’d think after all these years that she wouldn’t be that phased by her own art but she is. Always.
“Perfect,” I smile at myself in the mirror. “Now I need the stockings and the headpiece.”
“The swan doesn’t wear stockings,” Ev remarks.
I throw her a look. “It’s Halloween—obviously I’m making it slutty.”
“Don’t say that,” Mum mutters as she walks out of my bedroom to get the rest of my outfit that she also spent two weeks crafting.
Evenagline twists her lips up, stares at me.
“What?”
She sits up on my bed with her legs crossed. “Can I—”
“Nope,” shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Please!” She moans. “You won’t even know I’m there!”
“No!”
“I’ll wear a mask,” she smiles, gives me a wink. “No one will know it’s me.”
“Your brother would kill me if he found out you were there.”
She scoffs, rolls her eyes. “No he wouldn’t, he—”
“If anything happened to you, it would be my responsibility.”
“Since when did you become so responsible?”
I stick my nose in the air. “Since—” I wave my arm about. “Always. I’m, like, so responsible.”
She blinks a few times. “You’re actually the least responsible person I know.”
“Have you not met the Holland’s, then, or…?”
“Okay,” she nods. “Apart from them—please, just let me come, Phoebs. Please!”
“Fuck off,” I turn away from her and focus my attention back on my reflection. “And anyways, isn’t anybody your age throwing a party?”
“Well, yeah,” she sighs. “Carter’s throwing one but it’s going to be shit in comparison to the Stratton’s.”
“Have you ever been to one of his parties before?”
“No.”
“If he’s anything like his brother then you should be thankful that you’re about to pop your Holland party cherry.”
“Er, why are we talking about popping cherries?” Mum frowns as she walks back in with two V.K Design boxes.
