rightful owner.” She held the hanger out to me, and I dashed toward the try-on rooms in the back.
I wriggled out of my jeans and sweater and slipped the gown over my head. It fell . . . perfectly. It fit me in all the right places, neither too tight nor too loose. It brought out the natural highlights in my hair. I wouldn’t need to wear high heels to pull it off—and giraffe over Rhys, who was the same height as me.
I stepped out of the changing room and onto the showroom floor, debuting the dress in my anklets and no shoes.
“Oh, Savvy, that is perfect,” Mom said. “It’s exactly you.”
I twirled a little for effect—something I hadn’t done since I’d tried out for the baton-twirling team as a kid.
“Shall I bag it up, then?” Becky asked.
“Not if that means I have to take it off!” I said.
She and Mom laughed. “Today is not a good day to walk home in a ball gown,” Becky said. “I have just the accessory for you.” She reached into the glass cabinet up front and took out a tiny pair of peridot earrings. “They’ll twinkle just a little bit in the mirror-ball lights.”
I went to take the dress off, running my hand down it once more before handing it over to Becky. Mom arranged to pick up the dress later that week when she had the car. After we paid, I slipped the earrings into my purse, a promise of the night to come.
“Have you talked with Rhys much since you agreed to go?” Mom asked on the walk home. “Are you going to have him match your colors? Maybe you should text him so he can get a tie or cummerbund that matches your dress.”
“Good idea.” I didn’t mention that he was grounded from his phone for some unknown reason and that while Ian had my number, I didn’t have his. “Or I’ll tell him on Monday.”
Chapter 40
The next week flew by pretty quickly. I had a lot of work to do—they always poured it on before the term break, which was coming after the May Day Ball this year in order to take advantage of the bank holiday. I had a lot of homework and was particularly proud of my essay on Katherine Parr, the last queen of Henry VIII and, as far as I could tell, the first Protestant Christian queen.
On Thursday I arrived at the paper office early so I could get everything delivered and still have time to study for a trig quiz. Natalie was there, typing away and ignoring the depressing vibe she radiated in every direction.
“Hi, Savannah,” she said, starting a conversation with me for like the first time ever. I was immediately en garde , a new phrase I’d learned in French.
“Hi, Natalie.” I went about my business, loading up my bag with that morning’s papers.
“I hear you’re going to the May Day Ball,” she said. I looked up. “Melissa mentioned it.”
I knew Melissa had been trying to be nice and show Natalie that I had plans for the ball even if they didn’t include writing the article. Still. “I am.”
“With Rhys Bowen.”
Wow, she knew his last name. “Yeah. I didn’t know you knew each other.”
“We met last year,” she said. “Before I moved. We’d consoled each other about how hard it was to move in secondary school.”
Well, then. Rhys must have a thing for journalists. Or he’d needed help last year, too. Or he was a big player. Or he was nice to everyone. Or all of the above. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d known her when he called her Nasty Natalie. Though come to think of it, I remembered his saying that he liked journalists. But that he didn’t know any.
“That’s nice,” I said. Part of me thought, You’re two mushy peas in a pod . The other part of me felt ashamed for thinking that about my friend and May Day date. Who had . . . lied to me?
I loaded the bag and prayed the entire time I made my deliveries. Not my usual prayers about keeping my Asking for Trouble column a secret or for Louanne or for this whole boy mess. I repented of the way I’d begun to think and speak and asked the Lord to help me,
I wriggled out of my jeans and sweater and slipped the gown over my head. It fell . . . perfectly. It fit me in all the right places, neither too tight nor too loose. It brought out the natural highlights in my hair. I wouldn’t need to wear high heels to pull it off—and giraffe over Rhys, who was the same height as me.
I stepped out of the changing room and onto the showroom floor, debuting the dress in my anklets and no shoes.
“Oh, Savvy, that is perfect,” Mom said. “It’s exactly you.”
I twirled a little for effect—something I hadn’t done since I’d tried out for the baton-twirling team as a kid.
“Shall I bag it up, then?” Becky asked.
“Not if that means I have to take it off!” I said.
She and Mom laughed. “Today is not a good day to walk home in a ball gown,” Becky said. “I have just the accessory for you.” She reached into the glass cabinet up front and took out a tiny pair of peridot earrings. “They’ll twinkle just a little bit in the mirror-ball lights.”
I went to take the dress off, running my hand down it once more before handing it over to Becky. Mom arranged to pick up the dress later that week when she had the car. After we paid, I slipped the earrings into my purse, a promise of the night to come.
“Have you talked with Rhys much since you agreed to go?” Mom asked on the walk home. “Are you going to have him match your colors? Maybe you should text him so he can get a tie or cummerbund that matches your dress.”
“Good idea.” I didn’t mention that he was grounded from his phone for some unknown reason and that while Ian had my number, I didn’t have his. “Or I’ll tell him on Monday.”
Chapter 40
The next week flew by pretty quickly. I had a lot of work to do—they always poured it on before the term break, which was coming after the May Day Ball this year in order to take advantage of the bank holiday. I had a lot of homework and was particularly proud of my essay on Katherine Parr, the last queen of Henry VIII and, as far as I could tell, the first Protestant Christian queen.
On Thursday I arrived at the paper office early so I could get everything delivered and still have time to study for a trig quiz. Natalie was there, typing away and ignoring the depressing vibe she radiated in every direction.
“Hi, Savannah,” she said, starting a conversation with me for like the first time ever. I was immediately en garde , a new phrase I’d learned in French.
“Hi, Natalie.” I went about my business, loading up my bag with that morning’s papers.
“I hear you’re going to the May Day Ball,” she said. I looked up. “Melissa mentioned it.”
I knew Melissa had been trying to be nice and show Natalie that I had plans for the ball even if they didn’t include writing the article. Still. “I am.”
“With Rhys Bowen.”
Wow, she knew his last name. “Yeah. I didn’t know you knew each other.”
“We met last year,” she said. “Before I moved. We’d consoled each other about how hard it was to move in secondary school.”
Well, then. Rhys must have a thing for journalists. Or he’d needed help last year, too. Or he was a big player. Or he was nice to everyone. Or all of the above. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d known her when he called her Nasty Natalie. Though come to think of it, I remembered his saying that he liked journalists. But that he didn’t know any.
“That’s nice,” I said. Part of me thought, You’re two mushy peas in a pod . The other part of me felt ashamed for thinking that about my friend and May Day date. Who had . . . lied to me?
I loaded the bag and prayed the entire time I made my deliveries. Not my usual prayers about keeping my Asking for Trouble column a secret or for Louanne or for this whole boy mess. I repented of the way I’d begun to think and speak and asked the Lord to help me,
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