A Midsummer's Nightmare (8 page)

“Maybe,” I muttered.
Or not.

“What about you kids?” Dad asked, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you guys getting to know each other pretty well? I’m sure it’s a little bit awkward at first.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’d say we’re getting to know each other
really
well. Wouldn’t you, Nathan?”

He kicked me under the table and mouthed,
Not funny.

Oblivious, Bailey added, “Whitley and I watched a movie today and hung out. We like the same kind of music—it was fun.”

I nodded, even though I knew Bailey had only pretended to know the songs I’d listed for her when she quizzed me that afternoon. Not that many thirteen-year-olds were familiar with bands from the nineties. But she’d smiled and nodded and acted like she knew them all.

“That’s great,” Sylvia said. “What movie did you all watch?”

“
Bring It On
.”

“Again?” Sylvia laughed. “It’s a miracle you haven’t worn that DVD out from watching it so much.”

Bailey ducked her head. “I can’t help it.”

“Speaking of movies.” I turned and looked at Dad. “There’s this new sci-fi film in theaters now. I saw the trailer on TV today. Do you want to go see it this weekend?”

“Sorry, munchkin. I can’t this weekend,” Dad said. “I have to give the commencement speech at a local university on Saturday. And I’m filling in for the evening news on Sunday—Tommy’s got to catch a flight to Colorado for his sister’s wedding and can’t do the show. But I’m sure Nathan will drive you to the theater. Won’t you, Nate?”

“Um, yeah. Of course.”

“Great,” Dad said. “You’ll have to tell me how it is.” He
stood, picking up his unfinished plate. “I hate to leave so soon, but I have to get back to writing this speech.” He kissed Sylvia on the top of her head before leaving the room.

When the chili was eaten and the table cleared, Nathan and I headed upstairs to our rooms.

“When do you want to go see the movie?” he asked when we reached the landing. “Lucky for you, I’m a big fan of sci-fi.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “So is Dad. He’s made me watch every
Star Wars
and
Star Trek
movie ever made at least once. Sometimes we’d stay up late having marathons—one right after the other.”

“That sounds fun.”

“I hate sci-fi.”

“Wait—what?”

“I hate science fiction. I just watch it because Dad loves it.” I let out a breath. “Don’t worry about the movie Saturday. I’m not interested, so you’re off the hook and we can go back to counting the days until we’re away from each other.”

I’d just pushed open the door to the guest room when Nathan asked, “Whitley, are you okay?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Do you care?”

“Yeah—of course.”

“Why?”

Nathan raised an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, I walked into the guest room and shut the door.

“Yeah, I’m having a great time,” I lied when Mom called on Wednesday.

“Are you and your dad spending much time together?” she asked.

She wasn’t asking for my sake; I knew that. She wanted me to complain. She wanted an open invitation to bitch about him.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “He, um, wants to go mini-golfing this weekend.” I forced a laugh. “How lame is that, right?”

“It sounds nice…. I was worried about you, you know.”

No you weren’t.

“Well, things have gotten better,” I maintained. “I overreacted the other night. It’s not so bad, really. We’ve all been hanging out and watching movies. It’s the same as always, just with a few more people in the house. It’s great.”

“Don’t get used to it, sweetie,” Mom warned. “Things are happy now, but your dad will mess it up. He always does.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want you to be surprised or upset when it happens. It’s bound to go downhill.”

“Uh-huh.” I took a swig from the Margaritaville Gold while she went on and on, the whole time insisting that telling me this was for my own good.

She didn’t know what was good for me.

I wasn’t sure anyone did.

Sylvia came home from work early on Friday afternoon.

“Are you girls ready to go?” she asked Bailey and me. We were watching
American Pie
on one of the movie channels in the living room. Or, at least, we had been. Bailey had switched off the TV as soon as Sylvia opened the front door. She must not be allowed to watch R-rated movies. Oops.

“Go where?” I asked.

“You didn’t tell her, Bailey?”

Bailey looked sheepish. “I forgot. Sorry.”

Sylvia shook her head, laughing a little. “It’s okay. Well, Whitley, it looks like you’re in for a fun surprise today. Come on. Let’s go.”

I had to be a bridesmaid.

That was the “fun surprise” that Sylvia sprang on me
twenty minutes later, when we pulled up in front of the bridal shop in Oak Hill, a city in the next county over from Hamilton. My summer was just full of awesome surprises.

“Oh, something like this would look great on you,” said Sherri, Sylvia’s just-as-blond, just-as-perky older sister.

She’d met Sylvia, Bailey, and me at Gwyneth’s Bridal Boutique that afternoon, wearing a bright red blouse and sipping Starbucks coffee. She wasted no time in giving me a hug, telling me I was beautiful, and informing me that I was free to call her Aunt Sherri whenever I wanted.

I couldn’t tell if she was a total phony or if she was just clueless.

I already disliked Sherri. Probably because she was so much like Sylvia. But right now she was making matters worse by holding up a sickening baby-blue dress, complete with puffy sleeves and a high neckline, saying how it was just right for me.

“Yeah,” Sherri agreed with herself. “This would be excellent with your figure. And this shade is definitely a good color for you.”

I couldn’t help but think of what Harrison would say to this woman if he saw the horrible dress she was showing me. He’d flip his shit. Have an aneurysm. The sight of this thing might have even killed him. I know I wanted to die at that moment.

“Oh, Sherri, put that away!” Sylvia laughed from the other side of the small parlor. “You know Bailey and I already
have the dress picked out. We just need to get Whitley’s measurements.”

“Fine.” Sherri sighed. “But Whitley might still want to try on some of these, just for fun.”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Really.”

“Whitley, come look at the dress we’ve picked,” Bailey said, waving me over. Given a choice between Bailey and Sherri, I chose Bailey immediately. I skirted around the racks of colorful gowns until I was standing next to the little blond and her mother. “Sorry about her,” Bailey murmured. “Aunt Sherri gets excited easily.” She cleared her throat. “So, this is it. This is the dress.” She pointed to the one Sylvia was examining.

It was bubblegum pink—an instant reason to hate it—and floor-length. The sleeves came to mid-forearm and the bodice was decorated with a spray of tiny yellow fabric-and-bead flowers going up the middle and over one half of the sweetheart neckline. Exactly what you’d expect Sylvia to pick out for bridesmaids’ dresses.

And exactly what I wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“It still needs to be altered,” Sylvia said, as if reading my mind. “I’m going to have the sleeves taken off and the hem shortened just a little. The wedding is in early September, so it will still practically be summer. I think that will look much better.”

“What do you think?” Bailey asked.

“Gorgeous,” I grumbled.

“Did someone need measurements?” called a woman from
the front desk just as a redheaded customer exited the boutique carrying a large frilly dress wrapped in plastic.

“Over here.” Sylvia stepped out from behind the wall of hanging dresses. “One of my bridesmaids needs to be measured for her dress.” She beamed before ushering me toward the desk, where the clerk waited. “This is Whitley. She’s a bridesmaid for the Johnson-Caulfield wedding. You should have me on file.”

“I do,” the clerk said after a few seconds. “The pink gown with the flowered bodice, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Great.” She turned to me then. “All right, Whitley. I’m Lexie. Follow me back into the fitting room and we’ll get your measurements done.”

Lexie was one of those overwhelmingly pretty people. Not beautiful, but pretty. Stick thin. Black hair cut just below her chin. And she walked like a Victoria’s Secret model, strutting down the runway. I couldn’t help admiring her as she led me to the back room of the shop. This chick had it going on.

“Step in here,” she said, gesturing to a dressing room hidden behind a white curtain.

“Why?” I asked. “I thought we were just doing measurements.”

“We are,” Lexie replied, picking up a strip of measuring tape from a nearby table. “But this is a form-fitting dress, and to get an accurate measurement, I’ll need you to strip down to your underwear. Unless you’re cool with everyone
seeing,” she added, gesturing to the door as Sherri, Sylvia, and Bailey entered behind us.

I groaned and walked into the dressing room, Lexie on my heels.

Not that I had a problem with my body—for the most part, I didn’t—but these were the last people I would want to see me in my purple bra and thong. They’d probably be scandalized by all that (currently sunburned) skin.

Though I really didn’t want Sexy Lexie to see me practically naked, either. I could feel her eyes on my flat butt, my less-flat stomach. The smug expression on her face when I pulled off my T-shirt told me exactly what she was thinking:

I’m hotter than this chick.

Or maybe she was inwardly laughing at the blistering sunburn that covered the back side of my body. That was possible, too.

“Arms up,” she said, unwinding the measuring tape.

I raised my arms above my head and winced as she wrapped the measuring tape around my chest, the edge of the strip cutting painfully into my inflamed skin.

“Might try a higher SPF next time,” Lexie commented, moving the strip down to my midsection, not bothering to be any gentler, despite having noticed the burn.

“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered. “I appreciate the advice. Because I had no idea what had gone wrong.”

Outside the curtain, I could hear Sherri saying, “You know, Sylvia, you didn’t have to take off work today. I could have brought the girls here on my own.”

“I know,” Sylvia replied. “But I wanted to spend a little time with Whitley. We barely know each other, and moments like this are a good way to bond.” Even though she lowered her voice to a near whisper, I could still hear her add, “I just don’t want her to hate me like I hated Alice, you know? I remember what it’s like to have a crappy stepmom. I don’t want her to go through that.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry.” Sherri laughed. “I don’t think anyone could ever be as bad as Alice. Whitley will love you. Just give her some time.”

Sylvia sighed. “God, I hope so.”

“All done,” Lexie said from behind me, her voice loud enough in my ear to make me jump. “You can put your clothes back on now.”

“Great.”

She slipped out through the curtain and told Sylvia she’d save the measurements in her file. The dresses would be ready in a few weeks.

After putting my cutoff shorts and T-shirt back on, I met the others in the main room of the boutique. Sylvia smiled at me. “You’ll look so beautiful in the dress. I can’t wait to see it on you.”

I shrugged, then hesitated. I hated that Sylvia had changed my father. I hated that she was so freakishly happy when I wasn’t. But as much as I wanted to spite her, to make her as miserable as I was, knowing that she was trying so hard made me feel just a little guilty.

I cleared my throat. “I mean… thank you.”

A few minutes later, on our way out to the car, while Bailey babbled to Sherri about some new movie she wanted to see, I heard someone calling my name from across the parking lot. I turned and saw Harrison hurrying toward me, dressed in neat jeans and an emerald green polo that made his eyes pop—even from this distance.

God, he was gorgeous. The female population was seriously missing out.

“Hey, girl,” he said when he caught up to me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Beside me, Sylvia cleared her throat. Sherri and Bailey were already in Sherri’s car (Bailey was going to spend the rest of the afternoon at her aunt’s), but Sylvia had hung back, waiting to see who I was talking to, I guess. Nosy much?

I rolled my eyes. “Sylvia, this is Harrison. Harrison, this is Sylvia—Nathan’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “You’re Greg’s fiancée, right? You’re a lucky woman.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I think so, too. And I’m glad to see Whitley is making friends here in Hamilton.” She squeezed my shoulder and I cringed. “Oh! Sunburn—I forgot. Sorry. Well, I’ll leave you two alone. It was nice meeting you, Harrison.”

When she was across the parking lot and in the front seat of her Prius, Harrison said, “She seems nice.”

“I guess. So, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I work here.”

“Here? At Gwyneth’s?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was a summer job turned all-year job once I decided to take the year off.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“It’s nice—good experience for a fashion major and all that jazz.” He sighed. “I just prefer men’s clothing. You can only look at so many dresses a day, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah—I know.”

“So, are you still coming to the party tomorrow?” he asked.

“Is there still going to be booze?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Call me and I’ll give you the address, okay?”

“Sure.” I glanced over my shoulder at the car, where I could see Sylvia watching us from the window. “I should go.”

“Me, too. See you tomorrow.”

I turned and started to walk away, but before I got too far Harrison added, “And hey, be careful out in the sun. You’re starting to resemble a tomato.”

“
Yes
, I’m aware. Bye, Harrison.”