Page 16 of The Last Casterglass
Because you want to be different than you usually are. You want to be like everyone else for once.
“Look the other way,” she commanded and, rolling her eyes, Olivia turned her back while Seph swiftly undressed and slipped the dress on. The wool whispered softly against her skin, the dress fitting far more snugly than anything she’d ever worn. Apprehensively, she glanced in the mirror, while Olivia’s back was still turned.
She’d barely taken in her reflection when Olivia let out a little shriek. “Oh, Seph! You look stunning! You could be a model, you know, with that figure. Your waist istiny.”
Seph put her hands to her waist, amazed at how the dress nipped it in and then flared out from her hips, to swirl about her calves. She’d never, ever worn something like this. She looked like a completely different person. Shefeltlike a completely different person. Well, almost.
“I don’t know…” she began, alarmed as well as intrigued by this new vision of herself. She’d wanted to look like everyone else, but she hadn’t realised just how different she would look. How everyone would be bound to notice.
“You’ve got to wear it,” Olivia commanded. “I’m not letting you take it off.”
“It feels like too much.”
“Too much?” Olivia let out a snort of laughter. “Our mother is going to be wearing a silk muumuu, and Dad is bringing out his old velvet smoking jacket, complete with matching bow tie. I’m amazed the moths haven’t got that thing yet. You’ll be casual in comparison, trust me. But I don’t think we can go with boots, after all. I’ve got a pair of heels…” She hurried over to the wardrobe to rummage in its bottom.
“Heels!” Seph couldn’t keep from sounding horrified. “I’ve never worn heels. I’ll trip in them. I’ll break my ankle.”I’ll look ridiculous.
“We’ll practise,” Olivia assured her. “Here they are.” She withdrew a pair of low black heels that didn’t looktoodaunting. Still Seph felt hesitant.
“I don’t want to look as if I’m trying too hard,” she said, biting her lip, knowing already that she would.
“Why not?” Olivia asked baldly. “What’s the big deal? We should all try a bit sometimes.” A knowing gleam came into her eyes, making Seph tense. “Is there someone in particular you’re wanting to impress without seeming like you are?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“No, of course not,” Seph scoffed. She felt herself begin to blush and she grabbed the heels. “Fine. I’ll try them.”
It took over twenty minutes of practising before Seph could walk in the heels without wobbling all over the place, and even then she was tottering carefully, as if she were walking on her tiptoes across splintering ice.
“I can’t do this,” she declared, exasperated, as she flung off one shoe. “High heels are stupid.”
“Amen to that,” Olivia agreed. “We’ll find you some flats if you’re really struggling. But let’s think about your hair and make-up—”
“No,” Seph said quickly. “No make-up.”
“A little bit of lip gloss,” she begged. “And a flick of eyeliner. That’s all.”
“No, absolutely not.” Seph was adamant. “I look like a clown when I wear even lip balm. Forget it.”
Olivia let out a gusty sigh. “All right, fine. But what about your hair?”
Seph touched her dreadlocks self-consciously. “What about it?”
“Maybe it’s time to cut the dreads,” Olivia suggested. “Your hair has grown out a bit. You’d look amazing with a cute pixie cut.”
Seph hesitated, glancing in the mirror. Her once hot pink dreadlocks had faded to the colour of pink-tinged dishwater, and they were looking decidedly unkempt. She was ready to be rid of them, and yet she feared she’d feel naked without their protection. They’d been a shield between her and the world, a way to seem tough and declare ‘keep away.’
But maybe she didn’t want to seem or say that anymore, at least not quite so vehemently.
“It’s past four,” she finally said. “I won’t be able to get a hair appointment. And I’m not having you cut them.” She wagged a warning finger at her sister. There was a family story of Olivia cutting Sam’s hair so jaggedly he’d had to have a buzz cut at three years old.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Olivia promised her. “But Helen down in the village has a mobile hair salon… I could give her a quick text, tell her it’s an absolute emergency?”
“It’s not an emergency,” Seph protested, but part of her was already treacherously warming to the idea. In this dress and a pair of nice flats, with her hair cut and maybe a tiny bit of lip gloss, she’d look like everybody else. She’d fit in, for once.
But what if you still don’t?
That would be worse, she knew, than never fitting in at all. “I don’t think—” she began, only for Olivia to hold up her phone in triumph.
“I just texted her and she’s already replied. She can be here in fifteen minutes.”