Chapter Thirteen
You’re so soft,” Darcy murmurs, petting the feathers running the length of my body.
“I won’t be able to sit the entire night,” I say, watching Danika strap on my gold sandals. “Or bend over.”
“Or pee,” Jaz says from behind me. She and Darcy burst out laughing. I sigh. True.
Danika stands and looks me over. “I know this wasn’t your first choice—”
“Or tenth,” I interject.
“But you do look stunning.”
“Like you belong on top of a Christmas tree,” Darcy adds gleefully, attempting to lift my mood.
I take in each of our reflections in my full-length mirror.
My friends’ eyes dance with light and mischief.
Layers of white chiffon drape to the floor around me.
Exaggerated sheer bell sleeves fall off my shoulders and float around me like curls of smoke.
Opalescent jewels cluster at the top of the fitted bodice, which tapers into a V at my pelvis.
Folded white feathered wings hold me upright, attached to an elastic band cinched around my ribs beneath the dress.
A subtle slit right to my thigh allows the layers to glide around me when I walk, revealing just a hint of leg—Danika’s handiwork with a pair of sharp shears.
Hopefully, my mother will be too busy socializing to notice.
My skin glistens with whatever luminescent powder the makeup artist dabbed on my exposed skin and cheekbones.
A band of white stretches across my nose and eyes like a mask.
Dark lashes flutter in dramatic contrast, making my already-pale blue eyes look colorless, the only color a sheen of pink on my lips.
Next to me, Danika is my dramatic opposite in a skintight, shiny black vinyl bodysuit that covers every inch from neck to toe.
Jeweled red horns protrude through her red-and-black striped, bobbed wig.
Her dark blue eyes shimmer with smoky black shadow, and her pouty lips are slicked with red stain.
A forked red leather tail sways behind her.
She sets her sharpened red nails on her hips and smirks.
She’s not exactly on point with the heavenly theme, but she’s made it her mission to rebel against rules and expectations since her transformation.
“We’re fricken sexy as hell.”
“You all are.” I sulk. “I look…”
“Virginal,” Jaz spouts. They all laugh at this because they know it’s not true. Not that one time makes me scandalous.
Jaz is dressed in white as well, a gorgeous contrast to her dark skin.
The haltered bodice plunges nearly to her navel, where a gold belt gathers the volume of satin fabric.
The full skirt is slit on either side, her sculpted legs revealed with each step.
The gold choker, with dangling chains, makes her look glamorous and powerful.
She’s as tantalizing as the goddess of love herself with black braids trailing down her back and over her shoulders, a twist of braids atop her head.
And Darcy is enchanting in her cherubic baby-doll toga, the golden bow and arrows attached to her back with miniature rose-gold wings.
Her short copper hair bounces in corkscrew curls.
Gold shadow brings out her hazel eyes. She looks adorable with her rosy, freckled cheeks, yet still absolutely beautiful.
I run a hand down my waves, trying to tame the flyaways. My sides are twisted into a halo and pinned around my crown. The stylist did her best to smooth the unruly strands, but they are determined to make their own statement, like Danika’s whip, coiled around her arm.
“Sadie!” my mother exclaims with a gasp. I turn to find her in my doorway, a hand over her heart. Her shoulder bare in her shimmery silver toga. “You’re breathtaking.”
I smile. “You look beautiful, Mom.”
I’m not trying to be a brat. I mean, they did an incredible job, making me look like an angel.
It’s just… no one really cared what I wanted.
How I wanted to dress. If I even wanted this theme for my eighteenth birthday.
I was expected to go along with it graciously.
Which makes me consider how many other concessions I’ve made in my life.
Now’s not the time for rebellion or defiance.
My parents love me, and my mother’s done so much work to show that…
while also making an impression on some influential people with deep pockets.
Oh, that bitterness has an ugly head, doesn’t it?
Guess there’s more heathen beneath these robes than disciple.
“I want you to see the barn before the guests arrive. Are you ladies ready to go?” My mother directs her attention to my friends for the first time, and her brows perk up at the sight of so much skin and vinyl. “Wow. Don’t you all look… revealing?”
“Thank you,” Danika says, her smile wicked. “I think I’ll fit right in at this party.” She struts past everyone in the black platform boots that blend seamlessly with her attire. Her outfit accentuates every curve.
“Do you have a cape to go with that?” my mother calls after her, following Danika out the door. Jaz, Darcy and I laugh, knowing the last thing Danika wants is to be tamed or concealed. I grab my white feather clutch and make sure I have my phone, lip gloss and mints before leaving my room.
I discover my wings unhook from the corset band around my ribs so I’m able to sit. And maybe I can ditch them like an uncomfortable pair of heels once everyone’s dancing.
When we arrive, the door’s opened by a valet waiting to greet us.
Mom is definitely all about impressing everyone tonight.
Hollis isn’t a valet kind of town. That’s more of Wetherford’s style, where estates are second homes to many of its affluent residents.
Danika winks at the college-aged guy in the red jacket when she exits.
He fights to remain professional, pursing his lips to hide a smile.
But his eyes have a hard time looking away from her.
“I don’t think I’ll be allowed to enter,” Danika mutters when we approach the barn.
“Same,” Jaz says quietly, causing Darcy to snicker.
The barn doors have been transformed to resemble the pearly gates to heaven. A blinding white light lures us in.
I remember the talks. The vision boards. The samples from florists. But I wasn’t really taking it all in, too busy with my internal temper tantrum. This theme wasn’t what I wanted, so I nodded and smiled in the way I do at my parents’ dinners and fundraising events. Absent and numbly participating.
Obviously, I missed a lot. And that’s a good thing because this is more spectacular than I ever could’ve imagined.
The girls spin around the inside of the barn with their mouths hanging open. The dark wood is nearly concealed behind billowing white fabric draping the walls and clouds of white roses floating at various levels from the expansive ceiling.
White-lacquered pedestal tables and square seated tables are decorated with candles, feathers and white flowers. Daybeds, adorned with plush and feather pillows, are tucked around the room, encircled by sheer drapes hanging from feathered and crystal chandeliers, providing a faux sense of privacy.
“Are those from your new line?” I ask my mother, eyeing the familiar patterns on the pillows.
“They are,” she confirms almost apologetically. “I thought this would be as good a time as any to reveal pieces from my collection. Most of the fabric is from my line. I hope you don’t mind.”
I shake my head. My parents are definitely getting a lot more out of this party than I am. This is absolutely stunning. Except it’s not… me.
I watch the string ensemble set up in the corner and bite my lip. Whoever comes to this from school is not going to get it. I’m wondering how long they’ll stay. Or if they’ll even show once they know most of their parents will be here too.
“What is this madness?” Jaz exclaims from the other side of the barn.
We walk to a gold railing that surrounds what first looks like an opening in the barn floor, but realize it’s a clear floor to view the lower level.
“That’s where they used to store hay and equipment during the winter months. We replaced the wooden floor panels with thick acrylic ones. Came out better than I could’ve hoped.” My mother beams beside me. I still haven’t closed my mouth. This was never discussed while I was there.
Danika squeals and prances to the stairs. We follow.
The sublevel has been transformed into… hell.
Well, the club version of it anyway. A DJ, dressed as a demon in a black satin shirt, is busy plugging in his equipment.
The entire space glows red. Instead of a disco ball, fiery fabric flickers within a clear cylinder, casting flames around the glittery black dance floor.
I peruse the perimeter, admiring the walls, transformed to appear like a stone dungeon, where demons lurk within window cutouts.
Black booths, couches and tables provide concealed seating in the shadows despite the black crystal chandeliers suspended above them.
If I had my choice, this is close to what I would’ve designed.
“We figured the adults will want to be upstairs, so we designed this for you. It was Sadie’s idea.”
I look at my mother oddly. I mean, I did say something about being in hell when they kept talking about rose clouds and sparkly wings. I guess they took it as inspiration instead of griping. However this came to exist, I don’t regret it.
“And we can see everything you do, but soundproofed it so we hopefully won’t hear you,” my mother says with a smile. “Clever, right?”
“Or voyeuristic,” Danika mutters.
“One more thing.” My mother leads us back up the stairs to a door to the side-yard. A sign made of a broken concrete slab has Purgatory etched across it.
We’re greeted by the chill of the fall night. A shiver runs down my spine. Three cauldrons emit flames, and armchairs with tall backs have fur blankets hanging from each arm. Glowing heating lamps stand between chrome pedestal tables with matching barstools.