“Great!” Her face lights up and she claps her hands.
“But I need to bring my friend. She’s the reason I always won.”
“Okay. Does she dance too?”
“A little … she has a weak ankle … but she’s a great choreographer.”
She nods and smiles at me as if we share the secret of eternal youth between us. I’m just glad I didn’t have to write out anything. Or didn’t get hit by a shoe.
My phone vibrates silently in my hand and I peek at the screen.
D Stalker: Digging the dancing queen!
How the hell does he know so soon? I quickly look around the room – it’s not that big that he can be hiding somewhere in here. There is only one door – the one I entered through. Through the thin slit at the bottom of the door, I notice a shadow move. Someone eavesdropped.
I jump from the sofa and throw open the door. The hall is filled with students, none of which looks suspiciously like a D. And what does a D look like I wonder to myself.
“You in a hurry?” Anne asks with a chuckle. “Or is it part of the love craze?” I bite my lip and close the door.
“Remember the stalker I talked about that stabbed my brother?” Her eyes go wide.
“He’s for real?” Guilt is written all over her face. She didn’t believe me.
“Yeah, and somehow the creep seems to know exactly what I’m doing all of the time. And he sends parcels to my house … chocolates, flowers, even perfume … the exact fragrance I love to wear. It’s creeping me out.” Feels nice to get it off my chest.
“Are the chocolates any good?” She’s trying to cheer me up. “If so you can pass them on.” I might just do that.
Anne talks a bit about training, but after the third time she has to try and grab my attention, she dismisses me saying I must go. I almost run out of her office and back to my car, heart pounding in my chest like a pig being led to slaughter.
I hit the steering wheel a few times with my palms, yelling out loudly, attracting a few glares in my direction from passers-by. I drop my forehead against the steering wheel and close my eyes. I just need a moment or two to calm myself down.
Knock-knock!
“Fuck!” Startled, my head shoots up when somebody knocks on my window.
Lucinda, a girl in my class, pushes her glasses back and waves pitifully. She’s very nice – dorky, overeager, and naive but sweet, with dark bob hair and chocolate eyes.
“You okay?” She peeps in when I roll down the window while my heartbeat drops to a normal rhythm.
“Yes, thanks. Are you going home now?” She nods, saying she’s finished for today.
“Can I give you a lift?” A big smile spreads across her face and she gets into the passenger seat. My phone alerts me of another message and I take it anxiously, letting out a relieved sigh when I see who it’s from.
Kiara: I’m late. Meet you at our coffee shop in 30.
I look at the message again and then it strikes me. I’m supposed to meet Kiara to go dress hunting for the upcoming freshman ball. Why, I don’t know, because between us we have a train full of dresses – more hers than mine. But she insisted.
She’s been planning this for months – she’s the leader of the committee organizing the ball – and will never forgive me if I cancel now. And maybe it will distract me from my annoying stalker.
“Do you want to go shopping with me and my friend? We’re getting new dresses for the ball.” It seems as if Lucinda just won the lottery and I take it as a yes.
Mel: C U. Bringing a friend.
“This is so lit.” Lucinda’s dark hair bob around her head and her glasses keep slipping off her nose. Why doesn’t she just get better-fitting ones? I pull out of the parking area and head to my favorite mall in San Jose.
Kiara is already waiting for us, so we get straight to the point, walking to the first high-end dress shop. Kiara finds nothing to her liking.
As we leave shop number four empty-handed, Ilkay phones.
“Hi, Sis, where are you?” My brothers have been keeping tabs on me since they found out about D. And even more so after what happened to Jackson.
“I’m at Santana Row with Kiara. We’re looking for dresses.” I try to sound more excited than I feel. “And you know the bitch is picky when it comes to what she wears.” He laughs knowing it’s the truth.
“Will you be okay driving back alone?”
“We’ll be good, don’t worry.” But I know by now that it’s like saying don’t shine to the sun. He’ll always worry about us. I think it comes with being the eldest and taking responsibility after we lost our parents. And deep inside, I love him for it.
“Okay, stay safe. Love you. And let me know when you’re back home.”
When we enter the fifth shop, I pray to find something my demanding friend would deem appropriate in this little boutique. A very thin guy in a gray suit welcomes us with a fake smile, gesturing with slow feminine hand movements for us to take a seat on a fancy black leather couch.
“So how can I help you today, ladies?” he asks in a monotone voice, his pitch a little higher than expected and his posture upright, prim-and-proper, as if he swallowed a ruler.
“We need sexy high-end dresses for a ball! We need to look dope.” Kiara is on a high and the guy suppresses a real smile while looking us up and down.
“Beautiful, but short. I have something that will work.” He turns from me to Kiara.
“Okay, you look like an African queen, tall, elegant, yes,” as if talking to himself, he moves on.
“Yeah, I have one that will turn you into a princess.” Lucinda looks away for a moment as if she needs to regain herself. Is she feeling insecure? Yeah, Kiara has that effect on a girl. She has everything going for her.
Luckily, I never suffered from low self-esteem. With all the egotistical fat-heads in our house, there was no space for it.
“I would like a high neck with sleeves,” Lucinda then orders.
He grabs onto his chin, contemplating. “Just wait here for one second.”
The man walks to the back and comes back with three gowns. He hands one to each of us, points us in the direction of a curtained-off dressing area, and leaves.