Candace
“What do you think?” Ingrid asks. “The green or the gold?”
I study the dresses hanging from each of her arms. The green is a soft seafoam, a frothy thing that makes her look like she’s just stepped off the top of a wave, especially when she lets me style her hair. But the gold, embroidered with deep blue, makes her shine even at the edge of the ball, where I know she’s going to be spending most of the night.
“You can’t go wrong.” I smile.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re excited you don’t have any admirers hanging around.”
“Can you blame me?” I drop onto my cot and scowl at the new squeak of the wooden box hidden between the mattress and the frame. “They are relentless.”
Ingrid laughs.
Ever since dinner last nice, I cannot take two steps outside of
