Red (6 page)

S
aturday was dress shopping day, and Felicity woke in a flurry of excitement. Playing dress-up had always been one of her favorite things. Ginger had wanted to take her shopping, but Felicity had begged for permission to look for dresses with her friends. “Let me surprise you this time,” she’d wheedled. “You’ve taught me so much. You’ll see, I’m going to choose the perfect dress.”

Ginger had gotten teary-eyed at how grown-up her little girl was, and then, to Felicity’s great joy, she had agreed—and handed over her credit card. Felicity had been astonished by her mom’s generosity. She had seen a cell phone bill on the counter just that morning, stamped
past due
in big red letters; she knew they couldn’t afford anything extravagant. Money had been especially tight lately. But Ginger had waved away Felicity’s concern. “This is the most important thing we could spend our money on,” she had said. “Go get a dress that will win you that prize money and it’ll all be worth it.”

Haylie sat in the front beside Felicity as they sped toward Iowa City, a stack of formal-wear catalogs in her lap and a huge smile on her face. Ivy huddled in the back, scowling at the cornfields out the window. It seemed impossible that anyone could be in a bad mood on such a beautiful day, but Ivy was dedicated to being annoyed, and she wasn’t about to let gorgeous weather get in her way. She had even brought along her calculus book, a monstrous, twelve-hundred-page symbol of her refusal to have fun. Felicity wondered, as she so often did, how Haylie and Ivy managed to stay friends. They’d had almost nothing in common since Ivy had renounced everything “girly” at the beginning of seventh grade. Though there was a lot to be said for having known someone since preschool, Felicity sometimes feared she was the only glue holding her friends together.

As they sped past the sign at the town limit that proclaimed
you are now leaving the red zone,
Haylie turned in her seat to watch it recede. Felicity could tell that her friend was a little uncomfortable—none of them left the safety of Scarletville very often. “We need a plan of attack,” she announced to distract Haylie from her anxiety.

Haylie turned back around. “I think we should hit the boutiques first, and if we don’t find anything, we can go to the mall. Though we should probably just go to Cedar Rapids or Des Moines if we don’t find good stuff at the small stores. Department-store dresses always look so cheap.”

“Hays, I’m sure there are great dresses for all of us in Iowa City,” Felicity said. She didn’t have the gas money to drive any farther.

“All I’m saying is that it’s important to look our best. This is our last pageant. If I don’t find the perfect gown here, I’m not going to buy something second-rate just to be done with it.”

“I am,” Ivy chimed in. “I’ll wear a dress made out of a potato sack if that’s what’s convenient. Listen, if I find something to wear right away, I’m just gonna go to a coffee shop to study for my math test, okay?”

Haylie looked stricken. “No, you’re not! You have to help us find
our
dresses!”

In the rearview mirror, Felicity saw a pained expression flicker across Ivy’s face. “Haylie, you do understand that shopping for dresses is the most torturous activity I can imagine, right?”

“We know,” Felicity said. “We really appreciate that you’re doing this. And that you’re doing the pageant at all.”

“If you shop with us the whole day, we’ll let you pick all the movies for our sleepover tonight,” Haylie coaxed.

“All of them? No conditions?”

“No slasher flicks,” Felicity said. “Remember that time we watched
The Red Hand of Death
and Haylie attacked me in the middle of the night when I got up to pee?”

“Fine. No slasher flicks.” Ivy settled back into her seat looking slightly mollified.

Haylie directed Felicity through the streets of Iowa City until they arrived at the first boutique, Lulu Levine. The two-story brick building was painted flamingo pink, and the sign out front urged passersby to
indulge your inner diva
! Ivy stared at the shop and rattled off a string of profanities before Felicity ushered her firmly through the door.

If a burlesque theater and an antique store had a baby together, the offspring would look like the interior of Lulu Levine. The three girls gazed around with a mix of horror and fascination—every surface was covered with pink sparkles, distressed gold paint, or mirrors. The wallpaper sported textured leopard spots, and the countertops were crowded with china figurines of cherubs and baby animals. All the furniture was strangely undersized, as if it had been harvested before it was done growing.

When Felicity caught sight of Yolanda, she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. The shop owner’s clothes appeared to have been sewn from the interior decorator’s discarded fabric scraps. She wore heart-shaped sunglasses and at least fifteen strands of pink glass beads, and her bright red hair was teased into a massive mushroom cloud. She was holding a mug in each hand, and when she saw Haylie, she gasped and sloshed coffee over both bangle-clad wrists. “Oh my goddess! It’s Haylie Adams!”

Felicity and Ivy exchanged a mortified look and mouthed, “Oh my
goddess
?” but Haylie didn’t miss a beat. “Hi, Yolanda, it’s good to see you!” she said. “These are my best friends, Felicity and Ivy. We’re looking for pageant gowns!”

Yolanda put down her coffees and squeezed Haylie tightly. “Your darling mom told me you were competing in Miss Scarlet! Congratulations, sweet pea! What an achievement!” When Haylie finally managed to escape, Yolanda shook Felicity’s and Ivy’s hands with painful enthusiasm. Felicity gaped at her jeweled skull-and-crossbones ring, which was the size of an Oreo.

“Tell me
exactly
what you’re looking for!” Yolanda said, and Haylie promptly pulled out her catalogs. As she described her dream dress, using wild hand gestures, Felicity started drifting through the clothing racks. Ivy trailed her reluctantly.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Ivy said. She picked up a turquoise velvet sleeve with two fingers, holding it as if it might be infested with fleas.

“Here, I’ll help you. Let’s look for stuff for you first, and we’ll deal with my dress later, okay? Give me some guidelines.”

“No pink. No white. No sequins. Nothing that makes me look like a layer cake or a bridesmaid in Barbie’s dream wedding.”

“Got it.” Felicity dug through a rack for a minute and held up a blue chiffon dress. “How about this?”

Ivy wrinkled her nose. “Too ballroom dancer.”

“All right, what about this one?” Felicity offered a black gown covered with gold flowers.

“That looks like my grandmother’s couch upholstery.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She pulled out a sparkly green dress and held it up next to Ivy’s face. “This color looks nice with your eyes.”

“I’d look like the Little Mermaid in that.”

“Ivy, you have to try on
something
.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just pick stuff out, and I’ll put it on. You guys can dress me up like the pliable little doll that I am.”

Haylie had finished explaining her criteria to Yolanda, and they both came over to join the search. Yolanda peered at the scowling Ivy with concern. “What’s the matter, honeybunch?”

“Ivy hates shopping,” Haylie and Felicity explained in unison.

“Tell me what you want, and if it’s here, I’ll find it, sweet thing. That’s my job.”

Ivy repeated her guidelines. Yolanda assessed her carefully over her sunglasses, then ordered Ivy to take off her hoodie. She pulled a neon-pink tape measure out of her cleavage, took a few quick measurements, and beamed. “I know just the thing,” she said as she bustled off.

Ivy flopped down on a puffy ottoman printed with giant peonies. “I’m going to end up looking like a drag queen, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry. Yolanda’s really good at this,” Haylie promised.

“As good as she is at decorating?”

“Just wait. You’ll see.” Haylie started purposefully plowing through the racks.

A few minutes later, Yolanda returned. “Voilà,” she said, presenting a dress to Ivy with a flourish.

The gown was silvery blue-gray, pleated and draped in a way that looked almost Grecian. There was some silver embroidery around the edges, but for the most part, it was simple and understated. Ivy’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “That’s actually … not bad at all.”

“It’s perfect,” Felicity said as Haylie bounced up and down and clapped. “Put it on!”

As Ivy disappeared into one of the Pepto-Bismol-colored fitting rooms, Felicity asked, “How did you do that? Ivy hates
all
dresses.”

Yolanda shrugged, her beads clinking together. “I’m good at reading people’s energy. I thought that dress would complement Ivy’s aura. Oh no, babycakes,” she said, snatching a purple sequined sheath out of Haylie’s hands. “Your chakras clash with that color.”

When Ivy stepped out of the fitting room, obviously uncomfortable but also grudgingly pleased, Felicity’s jaw almost hit the ground. For the first time since elementary school, Ivy looked like a girl. It was fascinating.

“Ives, you look
awesome
!” Felicity said.

“How does it feel?” asked Yolanda. “Are you comfortable? Is it the right length? Will you be able to walk in it in heels?”

“It’s good,” Ivy said. “I’ll take it.”

Haylie’s eyes widened. “But it’s the first dress! I mean, it’s great, but don’t you want to try—”

“No. It’s good. I’m done.” Ivy shut herself back into the fitting room.

Things didn’t go so quickly for Felicity and Haylie. Yolanda brought them gown after gown that “matched their chakras,” but none of them seemed like The One. After an hour of scouring the store, Yolanda ran out of dresses to offer. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be today, chickadees,” she said as she rang up Ivy’s purchase. “At least the universe smiled on one of you.”

“It’s all right, Yolanda,” Haylie said. “You were so helpful.”

“You’re a superhero,” Ivy declared. “Hopefully I won’t ever need another dress, but if I do, I’m coming back here.”

“Aw, thanks, boo-boo.” Yolanda handed Ivy the dress and took a huge gulp of one of her cold, stale coffees. “You girls have a great day, now. Haylie, say hi to your adorable momsie for me. May the goddess be with you, now and always.”

“You too,” Felicity said, trying to keep a straight face. Ivy unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort.

Four stores later, neither Felicity nor Haylie had a dress, and Ivy had long ago grown tired of playing games on her phone. “Can’t you two just
pick
something?” she moaned as they approached boutique number five. “It’s just a dress. It really doesn’t matter that much!”

“Easy for you to say, Little Miss The-First-Thing-I-Tried-On-Was-Perfect,” Haylie snapped.

Felicity was just opening her mouth to soothe her friends when she saw The Dress. It was royal blue, her favorite color, with a full, sweeping skirt and a small train. The top was a halter, and there was a delicate pattern of sparkly silver flowers that started at the right strap and meandered down across the left hip. She knew without a doubt that it was meant to be hers.

She approached the gown reverently. It was just as beautiful up close, and the fabric felt silky and expensive between her fingers. Though it was a little pricier than she’d hoped, it wasn’t unreasonable. She turned to call her friends over, but Haylie was already by her side, her eyes the size of hubcaps. “Oh my God,” she gasped. “It’s the perfect dress!”

“I know!” Felicity clawed through the hangers until she found the gown in her size. Only when she had it in her hands did she realize that Haylie was searching through the rack with equal enthusiasm. “Hays, it’s okay, I found one.”

Haylie looked at the dress Felicity was holding, perplexed. “That’s a size six.”

“Well, yeah. That’s my size.”

Haylie pulled a size two off the rack and hugged it to her chest, comprehension slowly dawning on her face. “Oh no.
You
want this one?”

Felicity stared at her friend across the rack of identical gowns, and Haylie stared back. Of all the dresses in Iowa City, how could they fall in love with the same one? Felicity tried to tell herself it was just a dress. Surely she could find another, and it would make Haylie so happy to have this one. But she couldn’t make herself back down. She needed that prize money far more than Haylie did. She had to look her very best for this competition, and she knew she could do that in this gown.

She tried to think of something articulate to say, but all she came up with was “Well, this totally sucks.”

“Why don’t we both try it on?” Haylie suggested. “Whichever one of us looks better in it gets it. And the other one has to promise not to be upset. It’s just a dress, right?”

“How will we decide who looks better?”

Felicity and Haylie both turned to Ivy, who said, “Oh,
hell
no. I am
not
getting involved in this.” She was out of the store so fast it was as if she had vaporized.

Haylie sighed as she watched Ivy retreat. “I guess we can decide for ourselves, right? We’re always honest with each other.”

Felicity thought of all the times she’d lied to Haylie in small ways over the past few weeks.
I can’t come over—I have to pick up the twins. I only let Gabby sit at our lunch table because I felt bad for her. I put sandalwood oil in my hair because I love how it smells. Nothing’s wrong, I’m just tired.
A huge wave of guilt crashed over her. But those lies couldn’t be helped. They were for her protection. This time, she would be forthright.

“Of course. I’m sure we can be impartial,” she said.

They found the fitting rooms in the back of the store, each of them carrying her dress as if it were a precious relic. There were two blondes and a brunette waiting in line, and Haylie shoved right past them. “Um, excuse you,” one of the blondes snapped. “There’s a line.”

Haylie stared at her. “But we’re red—” she began before Felicity grabbed her shoulder and gently pulled her back.