I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It is an hour before the memorial, and I am all dressed in the outfit that Mom gave me, and I am having second thoughts about it. The power suit is so … so corporate. What if the pack reads that I think that I am better than them? And if I tone it down, will it seem that I do not care enough?
“Really, Alexandra, just wear what you feel comfortable in,” Storm huffs. “This up-and-down conversation is tiring me out.”
“Fine,” I agree with her. I know I am overthinking it, but I cannot help it. I so desperately want to do right by my pack, that I am questioning even the smallest thing.
After one last turn in the mirror, I decide to swap the suit jacket for my leather jacket and keep the pants. I switch my heels for boots and tie my hair in a high ponyt
