Friday evening arrived way too fast.
Maya was practically buried alive in her closet. She was blindly tossing one outfit after another over her shoulder, letting them land in a messy pile on her bed.
"Amy, you seriously can't wear that old hoodie to a billionaire's dinner," Maya called out, her voice muffled by the clothes hanging in her closet. "It's basically a crime against their social status."
I sat on the edge of my bed, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "Maya, seriously, he's just my stepdad. It's not the Met Gala. I'm pretty sure he won't even notice what I'm wearing."
Maya poked her head out, showing off a smooth, dark green slip dress on a velvet hanger. "Try this on. It's super classy and subtle and still says 'I belong in a mansion' without trying too ha
