32. Alice
32
Alice
L ula’s nose wrinkles through the screen of my cell. “What are you going to wear?”
“It’s July,” I say, my tone defensive with my sister’s simple question. It’s not Lula’s question that has me worked up, but the fact that I already have an answer. “It’s not as if there are any costume shops open. I don’t want to waste money on a costume anyway.”
“So?” Lula says, plunging another bite of cereal into her mouth. I think she lives on the stuff. I know Dad paid for her to have a meal plan—even through the summer—but the girl eats cereal for every meal.
I press my lips together and swallow. “All I have is Amanda’s bridesmaid dress.”
She blanches. “I mean, it is a costume party. That dress is a costume. You could douse it with red paint and call yourself a zombie bridesmaid.”
“Ew.” Does she even know me? That is so not my style. “I’m not pretending to be covered in blood, Lula. Gross.”
Her lip curls in disappointment. “Then what’s the plan?”
“I’m not wearing the hoop—I threw that thing out. And look—” I reverse the screen and drag the phone over to where the dress hangs in my bedroom. I’ve been staring at it for three days now. “I ripped out a bunch of the tulle. See, here”—I turn the dress around to show her—“and here.”
“Can you remove part of the sleeve? And that chest ruffle?”
“Already on it. The ruffle is insanely sewn in, but for the last week, I’ve been clipping the stitches every night before bed.” I lift the section of the obnoxious lacy lavender ruffle that I’ve unattached from the bodice. I have just a few more days to get this thing ready. “It’s going to be much less obnoxious.”
“So, you’ll go as a… princess? It’s appropriate. You were a princess three years in a row as a kid.”
It’s true… once upon a time, I was obsessed, so my nickname came naturally. But I’m not now. Do I love a good live-action Cinderella remake? Sure. But do I wear dresses every day of my life? No. I’m grown. I’m mature… Mostly. Can a woman wearing purple fluff call herself mature?
“I think you should own it,” Lula says.
I’m still thinking about myself in fluff—for the second time this year. Though I’ve been de-fluffing this dress for a week. “Own it?” I say, repeating her statement.
“Yeah—all these guys think they’re so much better than you. They’re big, strong, sporty men, but can they strategize, brand, and research as well as you? You’ve proved them wrong again and again, Alice. They like calling you princess . Own it. You’re the princess beating them at their own game.”
I don’t hate the sound of that. And I do kind of love dressing up. Plus, this dress might not be awful once I’m finished with it.
I’m still feeling the girl power of my sister’s speech when she says, “So, is Will going?”
Will and I are always keeping our relationship quiet when it comes to others—so it always throws me when Lula bluntly asks about him in that sing-song tone that means so much more than any words.
It’s all good. She isn’t going to tell anyone, and I really needed to talk about all of the craziness happening inside of my body, about the physical pull on my heart. The feelings I have for Will are emotional and physical. They’re different than anything I’ve felt before. I like Will— a lot . As a very young person, I had a front-row seat to so many relationships forming. My dad and Coco. Uncle Levi and Meredith. Uncle Owen and Annie. Uncle Miles and Delaney. Uncle Cooper and Leah. I was young, but I was also observant. And helpful. Would any of those couples be together without me? Doubtful.
The point is, I know love when I see it.
At least, I think I do. It’s so much more complicated when it’s happening to you. When it’s a secret. Love is this beautiful word—but it becomes scary when it involves your own heart. I need Lula’s point of view. I need someone like young Alice to tell me what’s what.
Because this thing with Will—it feels like something . It’s special and right. And yet, terrifying too.
I need help processing that.
“Alice,” my sister sings.
“Oh. Um. No. I don’t think so.” I bite my inner cheek. “Apparently Billy throws some kind of party like this every year. It’s not Will’s thing. He always skips out.”
“You’re going without him?” She looks confused—should I not be going?
“We can’t go together anyway. The rules, remember? Sure, Billy knows, but no one else does.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Billy’s such a dumb-dumb.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t know him.”
“Do you?” she spouts. Clearly, I have told my sister too much.
I swallow. “He’s not dumb. He’s trying to be professional. And smart.”
“So, what will you do if this relationship progresses? You can’t keep it quiet from everyone else forever. Is Will going to quit?”
Okay, this conversation has turned, and I don’t like it. I can’t think about that. I don’t want to give Will up, but I can’t let him lose his job. He’s worked so hard. He’s all Billy has. What will Billy ask of us?
“Lula!” I bark—because the girl is stressing me out when she’s supposed to be helpful. “You’re jumping a hundred miles ahead of where we are. I don’t have any of those answers.”
“I just?—”
“I don’t know.”
She quiets for a minute. “Okay.”
My pulse thrums. What is Billy’s plan? He said we could be together if we kept it quiet—does that mean we have to keep it quiet forever? Does that mean one of us has to leave Billy’s employment eventually?
Lula plasters on a smile. “Send me a picture of Princess Alice. Own it, okay?”
My throat aches and my eyes sting. But I smile back. “Yeah,” I say, the word catching in my throat. “I will.”