Our Forgotten Souls

Chapter Seventeen

If I could cut my arm off I would.

Just get rid of the chip entirely and flounce off into the woods. Escape as fast as possible.

Because this was hell.

June leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed. I couldn't stand the slightly amused smile on her face as she watched me struggle under piles of disgusting pink chiffon.

I was supposed to find a dress for the ball.

After sneaking back into my room right before the sun rose, arm still numb and slightly throbbing from that night, I'd fallen asleep only to wake up an hour later. June had barged in, a tall, willow-y brunette at her heels. The lady had immediately looked me up and down, before huffing and leaving to procure some dresses.

I needed to look perfect. Elegant, graceful, the absolute image of elitist Antheian society. And I had to look wealthy as hell.

Finding a right dress quickly became impossible.

"Oh god no. That chiffon...on your body...," the brunette, who I'd learned was named Portia, cringed. She'd been doing that the entire morning. She forced me to try on all kinds of dresses, before exclaiming each as "preposterous" or "unflattering" because nothing apparently looked good on my body.

I was tired of changing.

Fortunately, every dress I'd tried on so far had been long sleeved. The hardest part of hacking my chip would be concealing my continuously re-opened wound. The boy – who's name I still did not know – had bandaged up the small incision he'd created, but it had bled a lot. He'd given me extra bandages just to keep it from getting out of control. He'd tried stitching it up a bit to help, but it couldn't fix everything.

I just had to keep June from finding the still bloodied bandages. Maybe if she asked, I could come up with some stupid excuse. I could say I accidentally fell...off my bed. Or stabbed myself. Or...

Honestly, I had no decent excuses, but I liked to think I was good at getting out of things.

Portia let out another exaggerated huff before turning towards the massive chest of dresses she'd brought. She pulled out a sparkling white gown with puffed out sleeves. I stared in absolute disgust. June choked out a laugh from her spot at the door.

I glared her down.

She just smiled right back.

"Oh, I love this! This should be perfect. You would look absolutely magical in this. You must try this on. Now." Portia bumbled over to me, thrusting the dress into my hands. I cringed at the too-bright material. "All right, go, go."

Portia left the room, giving me privacy. June followed her out, chuckling at the dress and giving me a wink before exiting.

I groaned.

Sometimes, being senator sucked.

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In the end, we didn't find a dress.

Unsurprisingly.

After trying on piles upon piles of dresses, Portia came to the realization that she'd simply need to tailor something specifically for me. With that, she'd left the base, promising to return before the end of the week with the perfect dress.

I doubted it.

Unfortunately, June quickly informed me that I would, indeed, be wearing heels to the ball. On top of that, I'd have to know how to dance in said heels. This was turning out to be more of a disaster than I'd imagined.