Richelle Mead - The Golden Lily

“She what?” I exclaimed. “That’s not quite how I’d put it. She asked if you could do some print ads. I said no.”

“Oh.” Jill’s face fell a little. “I understand. From what she said… I just thought. Well. I thought maybe there was a way…”

I gave her a meaningful look. “I’m sorry, Jill. I wish there was a way. But you know why you can’t.”

She nodded sadly. “I understand. It’s okay.”

“You don’t need a modeling campaign to be beautiful to me,” said Micah gallantly.

That brought a smile back to her face that faded when she saw a nearby clock. Her transient moods reminded me of Adrian’s, and I wondered if some of that was the effect of the bond. “Ugh. Curfew’s coming. We’d better head out. You coming, Sydney?”

I glanced at Trey’s lab. It was complete and, I knew, absolutely perfect. “I’ll leave in just a couple minutes.”

She and Micah left. Glancing over at Trey, I was surprised to find him staring at her retreating figure intently. I nudged him.

“Hey. Don’t forget to put your name on this, or it was all for nothing.”

It still took him several seconds to drag his gaze away. “That’s your sister, isn’t it?” His dismal tone made it sound more like a statement than a question, as though he were revealing some unfortunate fact.

“Um, yeah. You’ve seen her like a hundred times. She’s gone to this school for a month.”

He frowned. “I just never thought much about it… never got a good look at her before. I don’t have any classes with her.”

“She was front and center in that fashion show.”

“She had a mask on.” His dark eyes studied me. “You guys don’t look alike at all.”

“We get that a lot.”

Trey still looked troubled, and I had no idea why. “You’re smart to keep her out of modeling,” he said at last. “She’s too young.”

“It’s a religious thing,” I said, knowing Trey wouldn’t quiz me for many details on our “faith.”

“Whatever it is, keep her out of the public eye.” He scrawled his name on the lab and shut his textbook. “You don’t want her plastered all over magazines or something. Lots of creepy people out there.”

Now I was the one left staring. I agreed with him. Too much exposure meant the Moroi dissidents could find Jill. But why would Trey feel that way, too? His claims that she was too young were sound, I supposed, but there was something vaguely unsettling about the exchange. The way he’d watched her walk away was too weird. But then, what other reason aside from concern could he have?

The normality of the next couple of days was welcome-normality being relative around here, of course. Adrian kept sending me e-mails, asking me to rescue him (while also offering unsolicited dating advice). Ms. Terwilliger continued her passive aggressive attempts to teach me magic. Eddie continued in his fierce dedication to Jill. And Angeline continued her not-so-subtle advances on Eddie.

After watching her “accidentally” spill her water bottle all over her white T-shirt at practice with him one day, I knew something would have to be done, no matter what Eddie had said about his personal life. Like so many awkward and unpleasant tasks in our cohort, I had a feeling I was the one who would have to do it. I figured this would be some sort of stern, heart-to-heart talk about the proper way to solicit someone’s attention, but on the night of my date with Brayden, it was soon made clear to me that I was apparently the last person who should be giving dating advice.

“You’re wearing that ?” demanded Kristin, pointing an accusing finger at the outfit I’d neatly set out on my bed. She and Julia had taken it upon themselves to inspect me before I went out. Jill and Angeline had tagged along without invitation, and I couldn’t help but notice that everyone seemed a lot more excited about this than I was. Mostly I was a tangle of nerves and fear. This was what it must feel like to go into a test without having studied. It was a new experience for me.

“It’s not a school uniform,” I said. I’d had enough sense to know wearing that would be unacceptable. “And it’s a color. Kind of.”

Julia held up the top I’d selected, a crisp cotton blouse with short sleeves and a high, button-up collar. The whole thing was a soft shade of lemon yellow, which I thought would score me points with this group since everyone accused me of not wearing colors. I’d even combined it with a pair of jeans. She shook her head. “This is the kind of shirt that says, ‘You’re never getting in here.’”

“Well, why would he?” I demanded.

Kristin, sitting cross-legged in my desk chair, tilted her head thoughtfully as she studied the shirt. “I think it’s more like a shirt that says, ‘I’m going to have to end this date early so I can go prepare my Power Point presentation.’”

That sent them into fits of laughter. I was about to protest when I noticed Jill and Angeline going through my closet. “Hey! Maybe you should ask before doing that.”

“All your dresses are too heavy,” said Jill. She pulled out one made of soft, gray cashmere. “I mean, at least this is sleeveless, but it’s still too much for this weather.”

“Half my wardrobe is,” I said. “It’s made for four seasons. I didn’t really have a lot of time to switch to all summer stuff before coming here.”

“See?” exclaimed Angeline triumphantly. “Now you know my problem. I can cut a couple inches off of that, if you want.”

“No!” To my relief, Jill put the dress away. A few moments later, she produced a new find.

“What about this?” She held up a hanger carrying a long white tank top made of light, crinkly material with a scoop neckline.

Kristin glanced at Angeline. “Think you could make the neckline lower?”

“The neckline’s low enough already. And that’s not a shirt you wear on its own,” I protested. “It’s meant to be tucked in under a blazer.”

Julia rose from the chair. She tossed her hair; this was serious business. “No, no… this might work.” She took the shirt from Jill and laid it across the jeans I’d set out. She studied it for a few moments and then returned to my closet-which was apparently free game for everyone. After a quick search, she pulled out a skinny leather belt with a tan snakeskin pattern. “I thought I remembered you wearing this.” She laid the belt over the white shirt and stepped back. After a bit more scrutiny, she gave it a nod of approval. The others crowded in to look.

“Good eye,” said Kristin.

“Hey, I found the shirt,” Jill reminded her.

“I can’t wear the shirt alone,” I said. I hoped my protests covered up my anxiety. Had I really been that off on the yellow shirt? I’d been certain it was date-appropriate. How was I going to survive tonight if I couldn’t even dress right?

“If you want to put a blazer on over it in this weather, be my guest,” said Julia. “But I don’t think you have to worry about it showing too much. This wouldn’t even be worth Mrs. Weathers’s notice.”

“Neither would the yellow blouse,” I pointed out.

They decided my clothing was a done deal and moved on to hair and makeup advice. I drew the line there. I wore makeup every day-very nice, very expensive makeup applied to make the most of my features in a way that made it look as though I didn’t even have makeup on. I wasn’t going to change that natural look, no matter how adamantly Julia swore pink eye shadow would be “hot.”

None of them put up much of a fight on my hair. It was currently in a layered cut that went just past my shoulders. There was exactly one way it could be styled, worn down with the layers carefully arranged with a hair dryer. Any other style looked messy, and of course, I already had it in the perfect configuration today. No point messing with a good thing. Besides, I think they were all too excited that I’d agreed to wear the white tank top-once I’d tried it on to verify that it wasn’t transparent.