The Odd Ones Out

A Night To Remember - Stella

"Stella! It's almost time to go!" a man in his mid-thirties shouted, buttoning up his navy blue shirt and fastening his seven-pointed badge onto his chest. Newport State Officer was printed around the center, along with the name David Garcia. "Are you ready?! I've gotta be outta here in five. Chief's gonna have my badge if I'm a second late."

As he was slipping on his jacket, he turned to see a young girl leave the bathroom. Much like himself, her complexion was a light bronze, and her black hair flowed like a river down to her shoulders. A bold, baby blue knee-high skirt was wrapped around her waist, and a matching button-down blouse hung from her shoulders.

"I don't see why I have to dress up like this," she said, wobbling as she carefully walked into the apartment's living room in her two-inch heels. "It's just homecoming."

"Just homecoming?" her father said incredulously. "And is prom just a dance?"

"A ridiculously expensive one," Stella remarked as her father helped her with her balance. "Besides, blue isn't really my color, to be honest with you. Green is much better. There's just something lively about it, don't you think?"

"You look fine, mija. Besides, your mother's favorite color was blue. Her nails were always blue. Her dresses and shirts were blue. Our bedsheets were―"

"I get it, dad," she said with a slight smile. "Everything was blue."

Stella glanced at a picture frame on a table in the hallway. Her mother wore light blue scrubs with a stethoscope hung around her neck. In her hair was a red rose, tucked slightly behind her ear.

"Of course, you inherited her beautiful blue eyes," her father said, picking up the picture frame.

"As opposed to your absolutely terrible brown eyes?" Stella joked, but her father remained mesmerized by the photo, unfazed.

"You look so much like your mother," he said under his breath, looking between Stella and the picture. "She would be so proud."

"Hey, dad, y'know where Quill's food is?" Wesley asked, cradling a small porcupine in his arms as he walked into the hallway. "I checked the kitchen, but it wasn't under the sink."

"Wes, why aren't you dressed?" his father asked, gesturing to the sweatshirt and jeans he had on. "Aren't you going to the dance? Don't tell me you're taking Quill with you."

"That would explain why Stella's wearing..." Wesley trailed off as he looked over the outfit she had on, "that. And, yes, I'm bringing Quill. I'm meeting up with a friend in the library."

"You mean that one girl who never talks?" Stella asked. "What was her name? Katherine?"

"Katherine? You never told me about her," their father spoke up. "Is she a nice girl? Why don't you take her to the dance? I can give you money if you want to go grab something to eat afterwards. I'm sure I have a twenty I can give you."

"I'm not taking her to the dance, dad," Wesley sighed, glaring at his sister. "She's just a friend. And her name is Katrina, not Katherine."

As the two of them were bickering, the doorbell rang, followed by a series of light knocks.

"Hey, don't blame me," Stella said, wobbling towards the front door in her heels. "It's not like you hang out with anyone else. The two of you are basically inseparable."

"That is not true! We're just friends," he insisted.

"Never said you weren't," Stella fired back, flashing a smile. She opened the door to see Griff standing on the porch, fixing his sleeves and smoothing out the creases of his emerald green suit and dress pants. "Looks like someone went all out to look spiffy tonight," she remarked, letting him in.