Ginger asked, clearly done with talking about Justin. “Like, with you?”
I paused, wondering how she’d known that, before I remembered my Status Q update and smiled at Ginger’s incredulous expression. “I do.”
“Could I see it?” she asked. “Just for a minute? To examine the construction?”
I considered it. It wasn’t like it could hurt the crown at all to be taken out of the box. And I couldn’t think of anyone who would treat it more carefully than Ginger. “Why not?” I said. I walked over to my bag, pulled out the jewelry box, held it out to Ginger and Sarah, and opened it.
The crown was resting on a bed of dark blue velvet, patchy in spots, that matched the case. It was surprisingly small and made of white gold, with four teardrop crystals standing up from it. Or they might have been diamonds, I realized with a sinking feeling, remembering how everyone went on and on about the crown’s value. The crystals—or (hopefully not) diamonds—were nevertheless very sparkly, and they caught the costume shop’s light and sent rainbows onto the walls.
“OMG,” Ginger breathed. “It’s so…beautiful.”
“You think?” I asked, staring down at it.
“You don’t?” Sarah asked, leaning closer to it. “It’s stunning.”
“I like the one that you had me wear in Romeo and Juliet better,” I said to Ginger.
“But that was rhinestone,” Ginger said, eyes still on the crown. “This is real.”
I stared at it, beginning to worry that she was right, and suddenly feeling nervous about having to transport something that had real diamonds in it. If this was as important as Dr. Trent was making it out to be, I couldn’t help wishing that he’d hired an armored car or something.
“Mad, would you try it on for me?” Ginger asked excitedly. I looked at her and saw what I recognized as designing frenzy in her eyes. She got like this whenever she was sketching for the next production. When it hit, she became almost impossible to say no to. It was how I ended up modeling potato sacks, to see if she could make one of Felia’s costumes out of them. She couldn’t. And for the record, potato sacks are not comfortable.
“I don’t know…” I said, fearing the Wrath of Kittson if she found out.
“Please?” Ginger asked, hands clasped. “Please please? Just so I can get some pictures of it? For my files? Please please please?”
I looked down at the crown. It would probably be easier to try it on than to listen to Ginger beg me for an hour. And it wasn’t like I was ever going to be prom queen, so this would probably be my only chance to wear it. “Fine,” I said, reaching for the crown.
“Wait!” Ginger said, looking around the pile of costumes she was mired in. She dug through the clothes, tossing shirts and dresses over her shoulder, making even more of a mess. “Aha!” She pulled out a beautiful taffeta dress and held it up.
“That’s gorgeous,” I said, taking it from her. It really was. It was pale pink and cut fifties-style—strapless with a tea-length skirt that stood out slightly, thanks to the crinolines underneath. It looked like something a young Audrey Hepburn might have worn. I suddenly liked my own prom dress—a modern column-style peach sheath currently on hold for me across town at Caitlin’s Closet—a little bit less.
“Put it on!” Ginger said, clapping her hands. “It doesn’t make any sense to see the tiara with what you’re wearing, Mad.”
I didn’t need convincing. I’d wanted to put on the dress since Ginger had held it up. I handed the jewelry box to Sarah and headed to the small curtained area at the back of the costume shop. I changed quickly and looked at myselfin the mirror. Unbelievably, the dress fit. Not able to resist, I did a little twirl, just to see the skirt flare out gently.
“Mad?” Ginger called, and I tore my eyes away from the mirror and pulled aside the curtain. Ginger smiled when she saw me. “I knew it would fit,” she
I paused, wondering how she’d known that, before I remembered my Status Q update and smiled at Ginger’s incredulous expression. “I do.”
“Could I see it?” she asked. “Just for a minute? To examine the construction?”
I considered it. It wasn’t like it could hurt the crown at all to be taken out of the box. And I couldn’t think of anyone who would treat it more carefully than Ginger. “Why not?” I said. I walked over to my bag, pulled out the jewelry box, held it out to Ginger and Sarah, and opened it.
The crown was resting on a bed of dark blue velvet, patchy in spots, that matched the case. It was surprisingly small and made of white gold, with four teardrop crystals standing up from it. Or they might have been diamonds, I realized with a sinking feeling, remembering how everyone went on and on about the crown’s value. The crystals—or (hopefully not) diamonds—were nevertheless very sparkly, and they caught the costume shop’s light and sent rainbows onto the walls.
“OMG,” Ginger breathed. “It’s so…beautiful.”
“You think?” I asked, staring down at it.
“You don’t?” Sarah asked, leaning closer to it. “It’s stunning.”
“I like the one that you had me wear in Romeo and Juliet better,” I said to Ginger.
“But that was rhinestone,” Ginger said, eyes still on the crown. “This is real.”
I stared at it, beginning to worry that she was right, and suddenly feeling nervous about having to transport something that had real diamonds in it. If this was as important as Dr. Trent was making it out to be, I couldn’t help wishing that he’d hired an armored car or something.
“Mad, would you try it on for me?” Ginger asked excitedly. I looked at her and saw what I recognized as designing frenzy in her eyes. She got like this whenever she was sketching for the next production. When it hit, she became almost impossible to say no to. It was how I ended up modeling potato sacks, to see if she could make one of Felia’s costumes out of them. She couldn’t. And for the record, potato sacks are not comfortable.
“I don’t know…” I said, fearing the Wrath of Kittson if she found out.
“Please?” Ginger asked, hands clasped. “Please please? Just so I can get some pictures of it? For my files? Please please please?”
I looked down at the crown. It would probably be easier to try it on than to listen to Ginger beg me for an hour. And it wasn’t like I was ever going to be prom queen, so this would probably be my only chance to wear it. “Fine,” I said, reaching for the crown.
“Wait!” Ginger said, looking around the pile of costumes she was mired in. She dug through the clothes, tossing shirts and dresses over her shoulder, making even more of a mess. “Aha!” She pulled out a beautiful taffeta dress and held it up.
“That’s gorgeous,” I said, taking it from her. It really was. It was pale pink and cut fifties-style—strapless with a tea-length skirt that stood out slightly, thanks to the crinolines underneath. It looked like something a young Audrey Hepburn might have worn. I suddenly liked my own prom dress—a modern column-style peach sheath currently on hold for me across town at Caitlin’s Closet—a little bit less.
“Put it on!” Ginger said, clapping her hands. “It doesn’t make any sense to see the tiara with what you’re wearing, Mad.”
I didn’t need convincing. I’d wanted to put on the dress since Ginger had held it up. I handed the jewelry box to Sarah and headed to the small curtained area at the back of the costume shop. I changed quickly and looked at myselfin the mirror. Unbelievably, the dress fit. Not able to resist, I did a little twirl, just to see the skirt flare out gently.
“Mad?” Ginger called, and I tore my eyes away from the mirror and pulled aside the curtain. Ginger smiled when she saw me. “I knew it would fit,” she
Similar Books
