My Almost Best Friend

Chapter 31

Chapter 31:

My eyes open to the white ceiling.

Where am I?

I roll over to see my scratched up old desk.

Oh that's right, my room. How exciting.

I'm a little disappointed that it's morning already.

School!

The dread fills me up and I pull my head under my covers. Maybe if I stay in here long enough, my mom won't remind me.

Then I realize it's Saturday.

And I can sleep however much longer I want.

The best feeling ever.

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I wake up after like 30 minutes of restlessness, trying to fall back asleep.

So I pull on my slippers and wander over to the kitchen where I pour a big bowl of captain crunch.

Sugar with a spoon, I love it.

I turn on the TV and kick up my feet onto the coffee table.

TV and food can honestly just make a day.

Then my phone vibrates, notifying me that I have a text from Claire.

I'll be there in 5, we need dresses for tonight.

Tonight?

What's tonight?

Then I remember the stupid banquet.

I haven't thought about any of the Spring Queen events for weeks.

And I'm supposed to go tonight since I'm a nominee.

I really wish that she hadn't reminded me so I had an excuse to skip it.

But she'll be here in 5, no 3 minutes.

Way to ruin a Saturday.

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A few minutes later I run out my front door.

That was the fastest throw on clothes-stick toothbrush in mouth-run fingers through hair-grab purse, I've ever experienced.

Claire's sitting in the drivers seat with an eyebrow raised.

Honestly I dare her to comment on my outfit.

She looks like she should be in the cover of teen vogue but I didn't know that you needed to be so dressy to buy dresses.

Oh, and we have to get make sure theses dresses are "absolutely perfect" in the words of Claire, because these are for the dance too.

So off to Callaway's Dress Emporium it is, and to top it off, it is raining. Again. I hate Portland.

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"Do you have this in a size 2?" Claire asks the poor sales assistant who has already bright Claire about a dozen dresses.

"A 2? So a smaller size?" She asks Claire with a puzzled expression.

I myself am a bit confused because she just had some trouble with the 4 getting the zipper up around her chest, and now wants it even smaller, but Claire is always confusing.

"Um yeah?" She says raising her eyebrow at the lady, "That's what I said isn't it?"

Ouch. Claire has always been pretty blunt...

The sales assistant bites her lip as if it keeps her from saying anything else, and she turns on her small heel back into the store room.

"What?" Claire snaps at me as if I'm accusing her of something. "It will still fit my waist but give me a shorter cut and allow my cleavage to, uh, see the light."

Oh my gosh, Claire.

I suck in my breath and raise my eyebrows but continue to the heaping stack the assistant brought me.

Most are light pastels which will apparently compliment my "eye and hair color combination".

I've tried on a few that Claire recommended, but sent those out, because I'm not exactly fond of the idea of making my poor mother have a heart attack.

Claire finally settles on a frilly turquoise strapless dress, after getting the opinions of "fans" on all her social media accounts, and personal publicity blog.

"This is just the one!" She squeals. "But I'm gonna need some silver heels to go with. Brenda? To the shoe room!"

She and the sales assistant are now in a first name basis, which I personally think makes Brenda feel very uncomfortable. Her shoulders sag as she follows Claire on another endless journey, even though I know she owns at least 3 pairs.

It's okay though, because I'd rather try things in myself.

I've only gotten on about 4 before I decide on the longer mint green dress, that falls softly. It's simple and I really like it.

Plus I don't feel like putting on anymore dresses.

Me and Claire finally get to check out, after all of the different shoe boxes are scattered across the floor.

She holds 2 pairs in her hand because it was a "good sale day", according to her, but I think she just likes to splurge.

Once in the car, I realize that Amarys was originally going to come with us.

"Hey, why didn't Amarys ever show?" I ask Claire as she backs out.

"Oh! Whoops I forgot to tell you! Amarys is still sick like from last night, so she can't come to the banquet," she replies cheerfully.

"Oh," I say. I could continue this conversation, but am not in a fight-with-Claire mood.

All I know is that Amarys had better be better by formal next weekend .