Is this Greyson Hollister?
I think I have your book.
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kinda cliché dialogue story, because why not.
anything can happen when you call
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3rd Place in Humor with The Little Sanguine Awards
2nd Place in Humor with The Sweet Awards
1st Place in...
I stare at the dress hanging off the closet door and tilt my head. It's a pretty dress, with a lace bodice with a waist of beads. The tulle skirt softly flares, reaching to right above my knee. I'd convinced Felicity to recycle an old dress instead of buying a new one.
This dress was my adoptive mother's dress. Cora had modified it for her spring formal, and now I am going to be wearing it.
I almost feel like I was disrespecting my biological mom by wearing this. Why does it feel like I am finally cutting off ties by wearing this generational dress?
It is a pretty dress.
Cora made the tulle skirt after cutting off the outdated and stiff lace skirt after she found a moth hole near the thigh.
I keep my head still, afraid that a single movement would send all the braids will come tumbling down, despite Felicity's assurance that she had used at least seventy bobby pins because I'd vetoed the hairspray.
My phone vibrates against me and I pick it up.
Felicity Hollister - Put your dress on okay? Greyson dropped the gel in the toilet now I have to spend an extra 5 minutes waiting for Alex to get back from the drugstore. Be down in ten minutes :) Greyson will pick you up and I want pictures ^^
I answer affirmative and warily look at the dress, before sighing heavily. I carefully pull off my t-shirt after making sure my window blinds are closed, and unzip the back of the dress, before sliding the entire thing over my head.
The silk material swooshes over my body, and swishes around my knees. I don't look at myself in the mirror as I pull up the zip, and I feel the bodice tighten around my waist.
I step into the sparkly blue converse high tops, neatly tying the laces.
I feel gorgeous.
But the mirror - I look in the mirror, and I see my biological mother staring back at me, as the girl in mirror's hazel eyes change to blue, the wrinkles around the eyes becomes more defined, and the lips narrows.
I see my mother staring back at me, and frightened, I close my eyes.
I'm not disowning her am I?
I'm not disowned by her ... am I?
I sit down, the skirt pooling around me, and turn away from the mirror.
