The Masked Murder

chapter three

Ivy up above

Ivy Blanchard groans as the pounding in her head increases rapidly. Her mouth tastes sour and her eyes sting. Why the hell did she have six glasses of champagne again?

She glares at the purple sofa in front of her face and doesn't blame the brown-haired girl who'd been in here for leaving. She was a mess. It had been only two hours since she'd seen her long-term boyfriend, Sean McAllister kissing Angela Bowman, her ex-best friend. She and Angela had been inseparable through elementary and middle school but when they reached high school, all Angela had cared about was her looks and her reputation. Ivy didn't care for that stuff and they grew apart.

She'd met Sean in the middle of her freshman year in high school. She'd been sitting alone at lunch when he came by, and they'd instantly connected. Now when Ivy thought of him though, a sickness brewed up in her stomach and she had to force herself from throwing up again. She flipped around and sunk into the sofa, smoothing down her gown. She'd made a big mistake coming here; every time she saw Angela she wanted to rip her pretty blonde hair from her head.

Ivy slowly got up from the couch and made her way out of the room. She probably looked horrible by now, her long black hair messy and her eyes red. She didn't care though; who here did she have to impress besides him?

Sean didn't even know that she'd seen them. She'd arrived at the party, vibrant and excited, and had gone to the coat room to put her jacket away. Sure enough, there they were, and couldn't keep their hands off each other. She'd raced out of the room in tears, and after thirty minutes of bawling, she'd become numb to it and anger replaced her sorrow. Here she was, six drinks later.

She came into the ballroom, women in dresses and men in suits; they all wore masks of intricate design. Ivy placed her own back on her face and romanced through the crowd. The resonance of music was buzzing through the air, playing Lana Del Rey's This is what makes us Girls.

We don't stick together 'cause we put love first.

The lyrics couldn't be more accurate and Ivy felt her eyes well up.
She couldn't cry; she'd cried enough. It was time to move past it, even though her heart ached.

She came to the punch bowl and grabbed a cup, filling it with the sparkling liquid.

"Are you okay?"

She turns around to face the same girl she'd seen on the purple sofa. She was wearing a tacky blue sundress, making her stand out like a sore thumb amongst the couture gowns. Her eyes held kindness though, and Ivy decided that was way more important than some fancy dress.

"I'm fine," she says, fidgeting with her cup. "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Does it look like it?" the girl smiles.

"I know these things can be pretty...intense for someone's who's new to town. Or at least I assume you are...."

The girl nods, her hair falling in front of her face. "Yeah I am. I guess it's pretty easy to tell." she glances down at her dress.

Guilt washes over Ivy. "No, I didn't mean like that--"

"It's okay." the girl half smiles. "I'm Elena, by the way."

"Ivy." she answers, shaking Elena's hand.

"Where did you live before?" Ivy questions, walking with Elena to a space near the staircase.

"New York, actually. A small town, not the big city like most people think."

"What was it like?" Ivy regards, curiously. "Living in a small town."

"In some ways it was great; everyone knew everyone. It was easy. But it was also isolated, and there wasn't much opportunity over there as it is in a big city." Elena explains.

Ivy sighs. "When I'm older I want to travel."

"Really? You want to leave this?" She gestures to the ball.

Ivy looks into her cup. "In all honesty, 'this' has never really been my thing. I grew up in this place but I'd always been an independent person and thinker."

"That's like the opposite of me--well not the independent thing, I do like to be independent--but like I'd grown up in such a small town and now coming here, there's nothing I can't do." Elena says.

"I can see what you mean." Ivy smiles.

Elena looks around. "Wow," she says, admiringly. "And these gowns are amazing."

"You like fashion?"

"Love. I might not seem like it but I love how people can express themselves in clothing," she looks down at her own. "I just wish I could've afforded something more extravagant."

An idea creeps up in the back of Ivy's mind and she grins.

"You know, I did bring an extra gown with me. Just in case." Ivy says.

Elena's eyes shoot up. "Oh, no I couldn't. I don't want to ruin something so expensive."

"No worries. It's not my style and besides, there's always stain remover." Ivy explains.

Elena laughs. "You can't use stain remover on a couture gown, but alright."

The two of them go into the coat closet and Ivy pulls out the gown, hidden beneath a black cover.

"Alright firstly, we've got to do your makeup. And your hair."

"Oh," Elena frowns, touching her hair. "Is it that bad?"

"No, not if you're going to a homecoming dance. But alas, this is a masquerade ball. You've got to go all out." Ivy says, pulling out her makeup case.

...

Minutes later, Elena's lips are a pale pink and her eyes gleam. Ivy hands her and mirror and she gasps.

"Wow," she says, eyes wide. "I look pretty amazing."

"Now look at this." Ivy says, revealing Elena's dress.

It's a gorgeous pale pink silk gown with glittering, beaded cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. The bottom of the dress flares out in a gown like style and Ivy holds up a tiara to complete the look.

"It looks like something a princess would wear." Elena breathes out.

"Go try it on!" Ivy says, handing the dress to Elena.

Elena finally emerges out of the bathroom, her hair styled naturally wavy. She gleams, twirling in the dress.

"I'm so good." Ivy sighs.

"Thank you!" Elena exclaims, embracing Ivy in a hug. "You're an amazing friend!"

Friend.Ivy hadn't had one of those since Angela. And you know what? It was about time she got one.