a
mental note to come back to this jewelry stand for a ring of
encased mermaid tears. I don’t even care if it’s really aqua
glitter – those are freaking mermaid tears now. Who’d thought I’d
ever want something with glitter? It’s so messy, so fake. If anyone
in this world is anti-glitter, it’s me. But the mermaids may
convert me.
We finish off the mermaid’s coral before Noah
asks if I’m too scared to ride the ferris wheel.
“Are you kidding?” I’m shocked he’d even ask.
“I’m not scared of anything…except maybe Great Whites after seeing
those photos in the surf shop.”
He hands over the tickets, and we settle in –
closely – on the two-seater metal cup.
“Alright, now that I’ve got you trapped, it’s
my turn to ask all the questions,” he says. “I want the real story.
What happened to your spring break plans?”
Seriously? I’ve already told him. I had a
fight with my friend. Most of my friends sided with her. I didn’t
go on the Los Angeles trip. I went to Crescent Cove with Erin, who
promptly injured herself and went home. I repeat this story, but
Noah shakes his head.
“You had a fight with your friend,” he
repeats. “Why? What was it about? It had to be huge to divide a
clique and send you to the cove. Spill.”
I wish I could wiggle out of this little
metal seat and wash away with the mermaid tears. I haven’t talked
about the Hilary drama aside from the week it happened. I’d just
rather not think about it. When I do, I realize how stupid it was
to throw away a friendship over something that won’t matter in the
future, but then again, she tried to sabotage my future. Who knows
what could’ve happened if Hilary had just left well enough
alone?
“It’s stupid,” I say, looking into the crowd
of people to avoid eye contact. “I’d entered a competition that she
had no interest in – or skill in, might I add – and then she
entered and copied exactly what I did.”
He asks about the competition, which only
makes it worse. He wants me to spill? Okay, I’ll spill. I tell him
about the fashion show and its desire to find upcoming designers
who think outside of the box. If anyone thinks outside of the box,
it’s me.
“We had to do a three-piece collection, and I
chose to do mine out of candy wrappers,” I explain. “The Skittles
dress was my favorite.”
Noah laughs. “Nat said you had an eye for
fashion, but I had no idea it was this serious.”
“Oh, it’s serious. Last year, I made a formal
dress out of coffee filters. I wanted to wear it to prom, but my
mom threw an absolute fit about it, so it’s still hanging in my
closet,” I say.
The ferris wheel jolts up a few feet while
the festival worker accepts tickets and lets two more people on the
seat below us.
“Was Hilary not into fashion?” Noah asks.
I’m not quite sure how to answer that. She
had an ongoing subscription to every beauty and fashion magazine
she could possibly get her hands on. She could window shop like no
other, and her ability to match makeup to an outfit was exquisite.
But designing? No. Sewing? Definitely not.
“She was sort of like your brother in a way.
She had great fashion sense and knowledge of the industry, but she
wasn’t into design, and she can’t even work a sewing machine,” I
explain. “She likes the glitz and glam but not the work it takes to
create glitz and glam.”
When Hilary entered the contest, she swore
she just wanted to give it a try, to see what she could come up
with. I even offered to help – to bounce ideas, talk about fabrics,
whatever she needed. I mean, yeah, it was weird that she suddenly
wanted to create clothing, but who was I to say she couldn’t?
“Her mom works at this high-end fashion
boutique back home, and her dad is a city councilman, so they have
some pull,” I say. The ferris wheel jerks up again. “Her mom put
together an entire team who could design, draw, cut, sew – whatever
Hilary needed. You can put a price on
mental note to come back to this jewelry stand for a ring of
encased mermaid tears. I don’t even care if it’s really aqua
glitter – those are freaking mermaid tears now. Who’d thought I’d
ever want something with glitter? It’s so messy, so fake. If anyone
in this world is anti-glitter, it’s me. But the mermaids may
convert me.
We finish off the mermaid’s coral before Noah
asks if I’m too scared to ride the ferris wheel.
“Are you kidding?” I’m shocked he’d even ask.
“I’m not scared of anything…except maybe Great Whites after seeing
those photos in the surf shop.”
He hands over the tickets, and we settle in –
closely – on the two-seater metal cup.
“Alright, now that I’ve got you trapped, it’s
my turn to ask all the questions,” he says. “I want the real story.
What happened to your spring break plans?”
Seriously? I’ve already told him. I had a
fight with my friend. Most of my friends sided with her. I didn’t
go on the Los Angeles trip. I went to Crescent Cove with Erin, who
promptly injured herself and went home. I repeat this story, but
Noah shakes his head.
“You had a fight with your friend,” he
repeats. “Why? What was it about? It had to be huge to divide a
clique and send you to the cove. Spill.”
I wish I could wiggle out of this little
metal seat and wash away with the mermaid tears. I haven’t talked
about the Hilary drama aside from the week it happened. I’d just
rather not think about it. When I do, I realize how stupid it was
to throw away a friendship over something that won’t matter in the
future, but then again, she tried to sabotage my future. Who knows
what could’ve happened if Hilary had just left well enough
alone?
“It’s stupid,” I say, looking into the crowd
of people to avoid eye contact. “I’d entered a competition that she
had no interest in – or skill in, might I add – and then she
entered and copied exactly what I did.”
He asks about the competition, which only
makes it worse. He wants me to spill? Okay, I’ll spill. I tell him
about the fashion show and its desire to find upcoming designers
who think outside of the box. If anyone thinks outside of the box,
it’s me.
“We had to do a three-piece collection, and I
chose to do mine out of candy wrappers,” I explain. “The Skittles
dress was my favorite.”
Noah laughs. “Nat said you had an eye for
fashion, but I had no idea it was this serious.”
“Oh, it’s serious. Last year, I made a formal
dress out of coffee filters. I wanted to wear it to prom, but my
mom threw an absolute fit about it, so it’s still hanging in my
closet,” I say.
The ferris wheel jolts up a few feet while
the festival worker accepts tickets and lets two more people on the
seat below us.
“Was Hilary not into fashion?” Noah asks.
I’m not quite sure how to answer that. She
had an ongoing subscription to every beauty and fashion magazine
she could possibly get her hands on. She could window shop like no
other, and her ability to match makeup to an outfit was exquisite.
But designing? No. Sewing? Definitely not.
“She was sort of like your brother in a way.
She had great fashion sense and knowledge of the industry, but she
wasn’t into design, and she can’t even work a sewing machine,” I
explain. “She likes the glitz and glam but not the work it takes to
create glitz and glam.”
When Hilary entered the contest, she swore
she just wanted to give it a try, to see what she could come up
with. I even offered to help – to bounce ideas, talk about fabrics,
whatever she needed. I mean, yeah, it was weird that she suddenly
wanted to create clothing, but who was I to say she couldn’t?
“Her mom works at this high-end fashion
boutique back home, and her dad is a city councilman, so they have
some pull,” I say. The ferris wheel jerks up again. “Her mom put
together an entire team who could design, draw, cut, sew – whatever
Hilary needed. You can put a price on
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