Chapter Twenty-Four. When You’re Just Trying to Be a Good Bridesmaid
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO BE A GOOD brIDESMAID
FARREN
James and I have become like parents to the hatchlings.
When Shelly visits, she sits and waits for the hatchlings to come to her.
Only Oria is too attached to James and the boys are always playing with one another or climbing on me.
It takes a few more trips and finally Electrum allows her to cradle him with a piece of gold I crafted.
From the brightness in her eyes I can tell Shelly’s doing better.
After the scare the night of the storm and the brief hospital stay, she’s recovered steadily.
When James made the recommendation, Dr. Burke supplemented her other medications with silver tea.
When I got the news, I couldn’t stop hugging everyone.
Even James, who I quickly apologized to.
He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “No problem,” but I wasn’t even embarrassed.
I have all the more reason to learn to craft silver tea now.
I haven’t mastered the technique yet, but I’ll know exactly what to do with a full mug once I have.
Today is another sun-drenched summer afternoon socializing the hatchlings. Electrum with Shelly and Zilar hopping between Jeffrey and me. James sits as far away from me as possible when Jeffrey and Shelly arrive, performing our fake-hating scheme, which means he gets Oria to himself.
James being an awkward length of distance away, keeping to himself, feels wrong.
Deep down, I’ve grown used to him here, right next to me as we deal with our dragons.
He’s mere feet away but I miss his presence.
But I don’t say anything. Jeffrey and Shelly are beyond perceptive.
As much as they deny it, they both are matchmakers at heart.
If they even see we have become friends, there would be no stopping them.
Plus, if I can fool Jeffrey and Shelly, who know me better than anyone, I can keep up this facade.
But pretending was so much easier when I didn’t harbor a crush.
Today, though, Shelly has invited me to their wedding planning outing in Forsen. I’m thinking maybe distance and time away from James will be good for me.
“We should leave for town soon,” Jeffrey announces as he rises to his feet and sets Zilar scampering back to his mom.
“Can I come?” James asks from across the cave.
“Of course.” Jeffrey doesn’t hesitate, always including everyone, which is how James snagged an invitation to their wedding even though they’ve only known each other for weeks. It’s become the affair of the summer for the twenty-five or so neighbors who live this far outside of town.
“You know we’re shopping,” I clarify as James joins us.
“Do I look like someone who is unfashionable?” James asks.
We wear uniforms at school, so I don’t know most of our classmates’ style.
Though I guess I can surmise James’s taste based on his favorite sweater.
It’s a good sweater. If Jeffrey wasn’t here my response would be teasing.
But he is. Therefore, my tone is biting when I say, “Yes. That’s exactly how you look. ”
“Farren needs to get her bridesmaid dress altered while we can,” Shelly supplies.
“You wouldn’t want to waste your time with that,” I prod James.
“I don’t mind. Actually—” James looks to Jeffrey. “I need to buy my groomsman suit, right?”
Jeffrey smiles. “Yes. Correct.”
“Groomsman?” I look to James and then Jeffrey. When neither contradict my question, horror akin to when James first appeared on the sanctuary floods me.
“James is going to walk you down the aisle, so you don’t have to be by yourself,” Shelly clarifies. “Evens out the numbers since both my girls will be coming into town and Jeffrey refused to make more than two friends in school.”
“Hey, I could argue Farren was my friend first.” Jeffrey motions to himself. “She could be on my side.”
“Take her from me and you’ll lose a finger,” Shelly says sweetly, but with a hard edge like she would do it.
I can’t take this cute banter. Not when they haven’t explained the most ludicrous of notions that James will be walking me down the aisle.
“But…” I swivel to Jeffrey since Shelly seems too happy about this, and I don’t dare contradict her.
“If you need another man, wouldn’t my dad be a better option? ”
“Farren, your dad is walking me down the aisle, remember?” Shelly says.
Damn it. I knew that. Of course I knew that.
Shelly’s parents passed away when she was thirteen, before she moved in with her grandmother.
My parents like to joke they possess some parental rights since Shelly wandered onto the sanctuary a week after arriving and never left.
He’d never admit it, but Dad would be so hurt if he wasn’t asked for the honor.
“I’m sure you can get someone else. You’ve only known James for a few weeks,” I tell Jeffrey.
“Yeah, and we’re friends. Nothing connects people more than mucking out dragon stalls together.” Jeffrey claps James on the shoulder like good friends might.
As I flounder for another objection, Jeffrey leans in close. “Shelly wants equal numbers. So, she’ll get equal numbers.”
A mean joke bubbles on my tongue about James ruining the aesthetic of the wedding party or even questioning why Jeffrey couldn’t find anyone better.
I almost say one of the two to conceal my real feelings.
But, like Jeffrey, Shelly’s happiness means everything to me.
And, if I’ve learned anything in the last few days about pretending to hate James, if I protest too much it comes off as denial.
Which is why I’m assuming Shelly smirks at me now, primed for me to say something she’ll dissect later to prove I’m lying to myself about my feelings.
Which I am, but she doesn’t need to know that.
This is entertaining for them both. Watching me squirm at the idea of James basically being my plus-one is a fun joke. And it’s working since it’s their special day and I don’t dare refute them. Damn them.
“Fine. But you can’t force me to be happy about it. And I’m not dancing with him.”
James scoffs as if the feeling’s mutual. I’ve also come to learn the sound is meant to seem disapproving and elitist. It does its job since I’ve only recently realized it is his main comeback when anyone insinuates we’re friends.
Just like that, we are on our way to town together to pick out coordinating outfits. A part of me, a silly part, cheers at the prospect of being James Murphy’s date to a wedding.
The town center of Forsen remains boisterous and shiny.
From a distance it’s a splendor of rippling buildings encircling a hill so tall I’m not sure it wouldn’t be defined as a mountain.
However, up close the splendor dulls. Here, summer heat stifles.
Dust always seems to be sprayed into the air even though every road has been cobbled or paved.
While one might be able to spot dragons flying overhead, legally they aren’t allowed to ground in Forsen’s central streets anymore.
Cars and trollies replaced dragons for transport years ago.
Getting a license to drive and the money to afford a car are both more reasonable for the vast majority. Plus, cars don’t bite.
We head to Mrs. Healy’s tailor shop first. From outside, the stout structure and cream awnings shout “quaint.” Inside, fabric rains down from the ceiling in gorgeous chaos. Florals, metallics, and embroidery all have their separate sections.
They make me change first, my outfit ready upon arrival.
The owner is a skilled seamstress, a kind woman with dark skin and a large bun, and she helps me put the dress on.
Yards of sparkling purple fabric fall to my feet.
The bodice shimmers like Feyling light with off-the-shoulder sleeves that cut inward and look like baby dragon wings.
“Farren? How is it?” Shelly calls through the curtain.
“It’s great. There are just some places it needs to be taken in a little.” I refuse to shout that my chest is too small to fill out the neckline. Some embarrassments are better left unsaid.
“Let us see.”
I step out of the dressing room, cupping the bodice with my hands. This dress falling to my waist in front of James or Jeffrey would kill me.
I do spin, though, giving her the full effect. The sparkles glint. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful,” Shelly answers before swiveling to James. “What do you think, James?”
Everyone’s focus homes in on the boy, who startles at the attentiveness. “I … umm…”
My skin prickles awaiting his response. He doesn’t want to be mean, but he needs to be. Or not mean, but disinterested. Normal. And the longer the silence builds it’s very un-normal. Please, just say anything.
“It’s … nice,” he finally gets out.
Shelly huffs, clearly disappointed. She steps up to me and goes to work alongside Mrs. Healy, one at the hem and the other at the bust.
“We can add padding,” Mrs. Healy reassures me with a pat on the arm and now I do want to die.
“Or! You could wear a copper shawl,” Shelly prompts, excitement ringing in her voice.
High-class ladies wear metal shawls to a formal function, finely woven metal draped over shoulders almost like a jacket to help hold a strapless dress up.
We all know the real reason the metal shawls have become fashionable.
For the past two decades there has been a call for equality among the metal classes.
In response, the upper class of bronze- and silver-crafters protest by showcasing their metal class even more prominently.
Jewelry wasn’t cutting it anymore and fashion resorted to pounds of metal woven to appear like dragon scales or even wings down your back.
“I’m not going to wear my metal to your wedding,” I say on reflex.
“Why not? Jeffrey is crafting a corset and a shawl for me. We’ll match.”
I do like the sound of that. Matching with Shelly, being anything like Shelly remains a constant goal of mine.
But it’s tradition for the groom to craft some of the metal the bride wears.
Fine iron, though, even polished to perfection, won’t gleam as bright as shiny red copper.
Rule number one in any wedding—don’t outshine the bride.
“Shelly, it’s expensive and I shouldn’t—”
“And I say you should.”
“It would look beautiful,” Mrs. Healy agrees.
“I could make you one,” James says, casually. I know he said that without thinking because when everyone turns to him, his eyes widen. He’s realized his folly and yet knows it’s too late.
It’s too late for me too. Heat flushes my face in direct response. I will it away, but the words feel embedded in my brain. I’ll replay them like I’ve been replaying all our interactions of late.
“What a nice boyfriend. It’s tradition for a man to craft for a woman,” Mrs. Healy purrs as she squeezes my shoulder.
Shelly turns, her green eyes practically squealing. “See, James can make it for you,” she hums.
“I’ve made them for my mom before is all,” James tries, but I think I’m the only one who hears him. Shelly’s smile is turned all the way bright. Jeffrey appears all-knowing and maybe even a little smug.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I tell Mrs. Healy like that will remedy this nonsense. She frowns, not understanding, especially as I’m still painted red in a blush.
Being the good guy he is, Jeffrey saves us all with the excuse to go find James a suit. A moment later the boys are gone, rounding the corner and disappearing among the walls of fabrics.
“Make sure it coordinates with Farren’s dress,” Shelly calls.
I sigh, having two less people to argue with me. “Okay, back to the point. Yes, I could hand-make a shawl, but the dress is beautiful by itself. I don’t need more.”
Shelly squints like she can read right through me. She faces Mrs. Healy. “Do you mind giving us a minute?”
“Of course, of course.”
Once we’re alone, Shelly zeroes in on me.
“Is this about the cost or the way you’ll look?
Or—” she steps forward, peering into my face.
I’m taller than her, but the amount of authority in her gaze makes me feel like she could spill my every secret.
“Or is this about the fact that you don’t want to wear copper. ”
“All of it,” I lie. But Shelly’s stabbed at the heart of the matter.
I used to wear copper with pride. A headband holding back the shortest pieces of my hair.
Earrings that I’d forget to take out for weeks.
Recently though, every piece of copper I don feels like a deception, a mask I worry I’ll never be able to take off.
Shelly hugs me, squeezes me close to whisper, “On your own wedding day, you’ll wear gold.”
Hope and dread fight for victory in my stomach, the buoyancy of hope lifting me up while the despair of dread pulls me down. “I shouldn’t hope for that.”
“Oh Farren, they’re out there somewhere waiting for the right person to find them.”
I dream she’s right. We’ve talked about this a million times.
How after college I will gather enough money to go on an expedition, search the world for gold dragons.
Like my dad, Shelly is positive there must be a colony still alive, and no one is looking because they’re assumed extinct.
When Nity’s babies were obviously fathered by a silver-plated dragon, some of my hope faded, but I can’t seem to discard the idea entirely.
My short-term goal is to attend Revers and train to become a veterinarian, but long-term, I dream of saving the species.
“For now, though.” Shelly’s words pull me back. “Do as I say and wear at least a shawl. In the shiniest copper there is.”
“Fine, it’s your wedding. I’ll craft a copper shawl.”
Shelly tugs at my forearm. “No, have James craft it.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, that wasn’t in your demands. Got to be clearer when using your bride powers.”
“Bride powers?” she laughs. “I like the sound of that.”
“Don’t let the authority go to your head.
” I say bride powers because I’m too scared to voice it’s possible these are her last wishes.
Since my outburst at their house I haven’t dared mention the gold vial tucked in my clothes.
But I carry it with me always and right now the vial burns hot in my pocket.
Bells jingle over the door before Shelly responds. My muscles tense seeing the man entering. Partly because it’s the last person I’d assume would come to a place like this. Mr. Murphy stands before us, a frown etched on his face.