Well Met(16)

Stacey regarded me for a long moment then nodded. “That’s a good color on you. The blue matches your eyes. I think this outfit will work.”

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a poofy grandma-style nightgown with a blue skirt tied over it. “I . . . I don’t see how.”

“Patience. Here’s your bodice.” She handed me what looked like a vest in the same color blue as the skirt. I put it on and my skepticism only grew.

“Um . . .” I pulled on the edges of the bodice, which didn’t close across my chest. “Did this shrink in the wash? Or was it made for an eight-year-old?”

She snorted. “Neither one.” She produced a long piece of black cord, which she proceeded to stick through the holes in the front of the bodice, lacing the garment up like it was a tennis shoe going up my chest. Things got a little personal as she tightened the lacing from the bottom, but to my surprise the bodice closed most of the way.

I put my hands on my much flatter stomach and breathed. Thank God it fit. “This isn’t so bad. I can breathe and everything.”

“Oh, we’re not even close to done yet!” She sounded way too cheerful. “But we need to adjust everything while it’s still loose.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I followed directions pretty well, holding up the outer blue skirt while Stacey tugged down on the white chemise. My neckline got lower in front, but the blue bodice held the top of the chemise in place, so it didn’t slip off my shoulders anymore.

“We’ll pin the blue skirt up here in the front so the white shows underneath. That gives everything a little more fullness too.” She produced some safety pins and showed me what she meant, gathering up the front of the blue skirt in a few different places and pinning the fabric up by each hip. Then she pulled the bodice down a little more snugly around my hips to cover the pins.

She stepped back to survey her progress. I was starting to feel less like a person and more like a doll she was putting into a costume. Ren Faire Barbie.

“Okay, let’s tighten this for real now. Hold up the girls.”

“The . . . what? Hold up the what?”

“The girls.” Stacey cupped her own breasts over her T-shirt, hiked them up dramatically. I let a nervous giggle slip out because wow, she was not a bit self-conscious. “They’re gonna be on display for six weeks this summer, we have to strap ’em in properly.”

“Okay.” My dubiousness showed in my voice. “You know there’s not a lot here to work with, right?” Hell, most days it was a toss-up as to whether I felt like wearing a bra or not. It wasn’t exactly necessary.

“You’ll be surprised. Now, hike ’em up and brace yourself!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I snapped to attention at her commanding voice and reached down into the bodice, under the chemise. Treating my palms like a push-up bra, I pushed my breasts together and up, and Stacey started tugging on the laces again.

Everything got tighter. So. Much. Tighter.

“Jesus, Stacey!” I planted my feet a little wider. I couldn’t exactly see what she was doing because the whole process hiked my boobs higher up my chest and those things were pretty opaque.

“Nope!” Her voice was far too chipper, but she wasn’t the one getting all the oxygen sucked from her body with each pull of the strings. “Not Stacey, remember? We have to start using Faire names!”

Another pull, and I grunted again. “Right, sorry, Beatrice.” Did it really matter? Apparently so, since everyone had started using their character names in conversation a week or two ago. Which frankly sucked, since I’d just started learning people’s real names. So I was going to be lost all over again.

“Thank you, Emma,” she replied. Then she sighed. “You put so much effort into picking a name.”

“I’m guaranteed to answer to it, at least.” I’d made that joke more than once whenever anyone called me on my uncreative Faire name. She snorted in reply and pulled on the strings again. I oofed again.

“Almost done here . . . one more good tug . . .” I couldn’t tell if Stacey was talking to me, to herself, or to my bodice. But sure enough, she tugged once more and then I felt her fiddling around with the front of it, tying the strings in place. I didn’t want to move my hands yet; better to wait until she was done before making sure I was, well, tucked in properly.

While she finished up, I looked down to the front of the auditorium, where a clump of high school kids sat on the floor in a rough circle, their skirts billowing around them. Caitlin, resplendent in pink brocade and elaborately braided hair, giggled at something one of her friends said, and her hand flew to her mouth to cover her toothy smile. She was like me in that respect: a girl who laughed with abandon. Except she was also like April, slapping her hand over her laugh, stifling it to not stand out as much.

But she was having a great time, and that was all that mattered to me. That was why I was here.

I was so distracted looking at my niece I didn’t notice Stacey and I were no longer alone until I heard a voice behind me.

“Wenches. How are the costumes coming?”

Fuck. Simon had joined us, and I was standing there holding my breasts in my hands like some kind of pervert.

To his credit, he froze when he came around to where he could see me properly. His mouth closed with a snap, and the tips of his ears got red fast.