Well Met(15)

I closed the passenger door once she’d cleared it, and I caught up to her as she worked her way up the front walk. I offered my arm and she managed to take it without making it look like it was necessary. She didn’t need my help; my help just happened to be there, so she took it.

“Why don’t you order your transcript? We could see how many more credits you need.”

I considered it. “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe I should. You’re getting better every day, so you won’t need me much longer.”

April’s laugh was a little strained. “I wouldn’t say that.” She gripped the railing and pulled herself up the stairs, one slow step at a time. She was making progress; she couldn’t have done that two weeks before. Physical therapy was going to be good for her. “But let me know if you want any help. I started looking at college options for Caitlin when she was eight, so I have plenty of sites bookmarked.”

I grinned, because that sounded like something I would do. Maybe April and I were more alike than I’d realized. “I’ll do that. Thanks.” I was warming to the idea of having a plan again.

“Maybe not the fall semester, though. Since you’re spending the summer in a corset and all. That’s going to keep you pretty busy.”

I waved a hand. “Nah. Corset’ll be a piece of cake.”

I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.





Four




Costume day today!” Caitlin practically vibrated in the back seat of the Jeep on the way to rehearsal.

“I thought you already had your costume. Pink, right?” I could have sworn I’d seen her in a hoopskirt and elaborate overdress a couple weekends back, wandering the aisles of the auditorium.

“Yeah, I tried it on, but it was way too long. They had to hem it up.”

“Ah. Well, you can thank your grandma for that.” Mom was not a tall woman, and consequently neither was April nor I. And Caitlin seemed to be following in our footsteps: short Parker women.

She shrugged; her height didn’t matter to her at all. Good kid. I’d let that bother me for way too long. “But it’s supposed to be ready today for a final fitting, and Miss Chris is going to show me how to do my hair too.”

“That’s great.” I couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t taken her phone out once on the drive to rehearsal this morning. We were talking a lot more on these Saturday drives, and while I still felt a little roped into this whole thing, I liked that it was bringing Caitlin and me closer.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed Stacey pulling shopping bags out of the back seat of her car. “Huh,” I said. “Looks like it’s costume day for me too.”

Caitlin followed where I was pointing and her eyes widened. “How many costumes are you wearing?”

“One, I hope.” Stacey had taken my measurements the weekend before, promising to pull some potential costume pieces for me from the collection the organizers had amassed over the years. “Those of us long-timers end up buying our own stuff,” she’d told me then. “But there’s no reason for you to do that yet. There’s plenty to borrow.” Thank God. I didn’t have a job and was mooching off my sister as it was. I didn’t have the money to blow on an elaborate costume.

I caught up with Stacey and took one of the bags out of her hands while Caitlin, true to form, ran inside the school building.

“What’s all this?” I tried to peek in the bags and walk at the same time.

“Options.” She bumped the door open with her hip and eyed my yoga-pants-and-tank-top ensemble as we walked through. “Good, you wore tight clothes. We should be able to put this stuff on over what you have on now.”

In the organized chaos of the auditorium we found a quiet corner in the back of the house. Stacey dumped all the bags on the floor and crouched down to start sorting through them. She passed me a large swath of white fabric that looked like a bedsheet. “Put this on.”

“This?” Once I had the bedsheet in my hands I saw it had sleeves, as well as a neck hole. I pulled it over my head and stuck my arms through the voluminous sleeves. The sleeves ended in elastic cuffs that wrapped around my elbows and gave the whole thing a tiny bit of structure, but overall I was wearing a tent that had been made into a granny-style nightgown that brushed my ankles.

“This can’t be right.” I tried to adjust the neckline, which kept slipping over one shoulder or the other, like a bad eighties sweatshirt. “Didn’t you bring my measurements with you when you pulled costumes?”

She clucked her tongue at me. “It’s fine. You’ll see.” She squinted up at me and shook her head. “Lose the tank top. Bra too. They’re both going to show.”

“What? Out here in front of everyone?” I darted my gaze around the auditorium. My scandalized indignation faded fast once I realized absolutely no one was paying attention to us. I sighed and pulled my arms back through the sleeves of the giant nightgown and maneuvered my top and bra off underneath the tent of fabric, letting them both drop to the floor at my feet. “Happy?” I held the ridiculous neckline closed with one hand so I didn’t flash anyone while I scooped up my clothes and balled the bra inside the top.

Stacey eyed me again as she stood up, holding more bundles of fabric. “Okay, overskirt next. Put this on over the chemise.” She handed me a long deep-blue skirt that went over my head easily. I pulled on the drawstring and cinched it securely around my waist. At this point I was drowning in fabric. Did wenches dress like this? This couldn’t be right.