Page 28 of The Tattered Gloves
“So, do you want to see my dress?” she asked, her voice rising an octave or two as her excitement boiled to the surface.
“Sure,” I replied.
We switched places — me on the bed and her pacing around the room. Only her pacing had purpose. When she’d entered the tiny space — armed with makeup, clothes, and overnight supplies — she’d also had a garment bag slung over her shoulder that she’d placed in the closet, next to my aunt’s boxes of fabric.
“Okay, here it is,” she said, reaching into the closet and quickly unzipping the bag.
Inside, I caught the faintest glimpse of teal fabric as she worked the dress out. Giving up on trying to get the hanger loose, she finally pulled the dress free and held it in front of herself, doing a slight twirl, as she smiled.
I wasn’t much into clothes or fashion. That much was obvious by the lack of color I infused into my standard long-sleeved-shirt-and-jean combo, but I had to admit, I was a little wowed by it.
Strapless with a lace overlay and tiny sequins scattered here and there, it was formal yet casual at the same time. It was one of those dresses you could easily dress down or up, depending on what you wore with it. And, if I knew Allison, she wasn’t going to go for casual.
“It’s beautiful,” I said earnestly.
“My mom and I picked it up last weekend on a trip into Leesburg. Clearance rack. Can you believe it?”
Another thing I’d assumed about Allison was that she was a rich snob. The truth was, she came from a fairly modest family and bought all her clothes from secondhand stores or off the clearance rack. She was the biggest bargain shopper I’d ever met.
“My mother taught me well.” She laughed, showing me the slashed price on the tag. “And we got an additional twenty percent off that!”
Dang, maybe I should take her shopping with me next time.
“Now, show me yours,” she said, placing her dress down on the bed next to me.
I took one long last look at her cheery teal dress and stood. “Okay, but swear you’re not going to laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?” she asked, genuine concern written across her features.
“It’s different,” I warned.
She rolled her eyes as her arms crossed over her chest. “Just show it to me, will you?”
Diving into the closet, I reached into the back and pulled out a similar garment bag to the one she’d brought. As the zipper slowly descended and the dress I’d bought alongside my aunt appeared, I wondered if I was doing the right thing… stepping out of my element, trying new things.
Maybe it was better to just hide.
To never trust again.
Then, there would be no chance of getting hurt.
“I love it!” Allison exclaimed, running her hands over the dark fabric, before I’d even had the chance to fully remove it from the garment bag. “Where did you get it?”
“Um, I honestly don’t remember what the store was called. Addy helped me pick it out.”
Allison took over, pulling the dress out and holding it in front of me. For once, I’d gone for something other than black. Although the dark magenta wasn’t far off.
“We’ll match,” she pointed out, fingering the dense lace.
I wasn’t really sure how I could stand next to her and, in any sense of the word…match, but I nodded nonetheless, taking a moment to appreciate the dress Addy had bought me. She really had done the impossible, finding a dress that was both flattering and provided the coverage I needed.
When she’d said she could help, I’d imagined showing up to the dance, wearing a long robe like a nun or a big white toga. But the dress we’d purchased was nothing like either of those. With thick burgundy lace over a thick black fabric, it covered me from neck to knees.
A pair of tights and some combat boots finished the look.
“Are you really going to wear boots? To a dance?” Allison asked as we busied ourselves with getting ready.
She was deeply involved with her makeup routine while I mostly just sat around and watched. Makeup had never really been my thing, but I was kind of fascinated, watching how many different tools and products she used.
