Brighter Than the Stars

Annabelle - I Love Parties

The entire palace smelled so, so good. Mrs. Dayal and the kitchen staff had been working since last night–and probably before that, but I had no idea–and there was so much food I couldn't even imagine that it would all be gone by the end of the day. James had requested pancakes, sausage, bacon, and eggs for breakfast, and there'd been all of that plus fruit, biscuits, and the pastries I liked so much. This was why I liked birthdays: they always meant good food.

We had people coming just after lunch and staying until after dinner, which meant I got to do my favourite thing, which was to basically play dress up. I also got to do Nicole, Clara, and Madeline, which made it even better–even if Nicole wasn't as enthusiastic as me.

"Here, try this one." I tossed a dress to Clara over the dressing screen. We'd made it for her a few weeks before, with no intention for her to really do anything with it, and she hadn't worn it yet. It was pink (of course) and personally one of my favourites. That was liable to change at any moment, though. Clara stepped back out, and I nodded. "That's good. Here..." I started rolling her hair into curls. "We'll take these out in a few hours, and then I'll put some of those ribbons or something in it. Will you get Nicole for me? Drag her up here if you have to."

She darted off to do so, and brought a less-than-thrilled Nicole back a few minutes later. "What?"

I smiled at her innocently. "Welcome to your appointment. I'm your stylist for today, Annabelle–"

"Cut that out, Belle. Do I have to do this? It's just James we're talking about, and I really don't think he cares." She had a point, though I doubted James would like to be referred to as 'just James.' The party had been mostly Madeline and I, and James had gone along with it because he wanted food and presents. He wouldn't care how Nicole showed up.

"Humour me," I said.

She sighed. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Except not really," she added quickly. "I'm not going to this thing all decked out like I'm the Queen–or the one who's having the birthday."

I dragged her down the hallway to her room, where I began pulling dresses out of her closet. Unfortunately, she was usually climbing some sort of building (illegally), which you couldn't really do well in a dress, and never wanted to get a dress made (she insisted she was busy–which was lame of her), so I didn't have very many options. She wasn't my size, either, and I didn't have time to alter one of mine for her. Still, I had at least cultured her enough that she owned some dresses, and I dragged her back to my room with the possible candidates.

I shoved them into her arms. "Go put those on and then come out after each one. Then, I can do your hair. How much makeup would you allow me to use?"

"Very little. And by that I mean by my standards, not yours."

"You're lame."

"Incredibly lame."

She was harder to choose for than Clara–mostly because Clara always looked relatively happy, and Nicole generally looked like she wanted to kill somebody (made scarier by the fact that she could–and would). Plus, whenever asked for her opinion, it was always "I don't care," until it was "no." As much as I loved her, she could be the most frustrating person in the world sometimes.

"Okay–stop," I said. "I think this one." It was a deep blue one that I'd made for her months ago (when I'd finally gotten her to cooperate), that would probably be simple enough for today, but still looked pretty. "Yeah, definitely this one–unless you like a different one?"

"This one's fine."

"You're always so cheerful and upbeat," I said. "Where are those blue flats you have?" I pointed to her boots, which were worn and looked like they were quite literally falling apart. "Don't tell me you're wearing those."

"I try. And, yes, I'm wearing these."

"You are not."

"I am." She drove her toe into the carpet (which explained why they were falling apart and so scuffed). "They're comfortable, and they're practical. Besides, you have ones exactly like them, just in red."

"Mine aren't falling apart! And I wear them in the appropriate situation."

"I think the situation's appropriate," she retorted.

"Nicole. We can't be friends anymore if you think that wearing your disgusting old boots to a party–with plenty of the nobility there, by the way–is appropriate." I stared at her like she'd just landed from another planet, which was a look she probably gave me a lot of the time.

"Darn. I guess we're not friends anymore then." She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Tragic." I pushed her towards the door. "Go get your ballet flats."

She groaned as she walked out. "So bossy."

"You better come back!"

"I'll think about it! No promises!"

...

She did come back, in surprisingly short time–though, she probably didn't have to hunt for the shoes like I would have. My closet was a mess. I twisted the star clips into her hair again, the same ones she'd worn when we'd taken the jewels, because I'd been proud of my work then, and they suited her (in my professional opinion). I added pink ribbons to Clara's hair, and set a jeweled clip into Madeline's, which she'd let down for once. I'd insisted James dress up at least a little, and Leo do the same–though, he had complained far less about it.

People filled the ballroom, and it was weird to think that, the last time we'd been here, it'd been to steal something. Actually, the last time we'd been here, I'd knocked several guards out and pretended to kidnap the Queen. The ballroom hadn't been used at all with M.C. in charge, and Madeline hadn't had the chance until now (even though I had been able to think of plenty of reasons for her to use it. Apparently, none of them had been substantial enough).

Nicole and Leo stood near the back, and I figured they would ditch us to play cards or something soon. I darted over before they could escape. "Leo–don't you agree that Nicole looks pretty right now, you're welcome, by the way, and that she should complain less. Also, that she can't wear her old boots to this."

"Don't involve me," he protested. "I always think she looks pretty, and I personally wouldn't care if she wore her boots. Which is why you shouldn't have asked me," he added, before I could cut him off. "Talk to Clara about that. I have no idea whatsoever."

"Tell her she should complain less, anyway."

"Tell Annabelle that she should stop forcing people into spontaneous makeovers," Nicole retorted. "Also, that she should have let me wear my boots."

"Tell Nicole–"

"Why are you two like this?" Leo asked, the question more directed at the ceiling than us. Nicole made a face at me, and I made one back at her where Leo couldn't see.

"We're special," I said brightly. "I'm going to make James dance now. I forbid you to ditch for at least another ten minutes." 

Word Count: 1,227