Medora
Yellow changed her mind at the last minute—of course, she did. She wasn’t attending the wedding but she wanted to show up for the dinner later tonight. Never mind that Clyde had already bought her a dinner dress. Now here I was, tearing through my closet to find something that might match up to half of hers.
"Medora, I’m—"
"Shut up!" I snapped, yanking another hanger off the rack and tossing it aside.
"Medora, just pick a dress," Yellow said, her voice practically dripping with self-satisfaction. "Clyde’s going to be there soon."
"Some of us don’t have the luxury of our dates buying us designer gowns," I muttered, rolling my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.
"Are you jealous?" Yellow's tone was teasing, smug, as if she already knew the answer.
I didn’t dignify her with a
