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“I love that idea. Hi, Jen!” she says loudly.

“Hey, Mrs. Holt. We’ll send pictures when we’re done.”

“I think I need to go, Mom,” I say as I climb off the bed.“I promise to send pictures when we decide on a dress. But…maybe not the onethat’s potentially being constructed.”

Laughter is her initial response, followed by a reminder ofeverything we’ve been talking about. “Be brave, be bold, be confident,sunshine. Wear something that makes you feel that way. Even if it’s not whatyour talented and helpful friend is trying to create for you.”

I’m looking at the things Jen is currently laying out allover my room and, for the life of me, I can’t envision what she’s thinking.

“Thanks, Mom. I love you, and we’ll talk soon. Give Dad andeveryone my love.”

“I will, sweetheart. Take care. Love you.”

Putting the phone down, I try to find something to say thatwon’t offend Jen.

“Why don’t we hit the thrift shop before we start takingapart your clothes?” I suggest. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sacrifice. Butit would be a shame to start deconstructing stuff when we might find somethingalready made.”

She pauses as she turns to look at me. “You hate it, don’tyou?”

It wasn’t a question.

“Of course, I don’t hate it. I don’t even know what it isyet. I’m just saying that we were all excited about the thrift shop, and aftertalking to my mom, I know I’m being difficult—but not on purpose,” I quicklyclarify. “I’m just nervous about this date.”

“Well, duh. Yeah. We all know that, Ella.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“Me, Penny, and Freya” she throws out, like it’s no bigdeal.

“When did you all even talk about this?” I’m not reallyaccusing her of anything, but thinking of my friends all talking about mebehind my back sort of gets my hackles up. I know it’s crazy—call it childhoodtrauma—but I don’t like it.

“Yesterday, when we were all at the coffee shop, remember?That’s when I first asked if you wanted to look for a dress today. And eventhough you were off the clock, you had to jump in and ring up that guy with thetattoos and purple hair. By the way, while I think it’s awesome that you helpthem out in a pinch even now that you’re starting to make a living from theroles you’re getting, you shouldn’t have to work when you’re not even on theschedule.”

“I know. But everyone was busy helping other people, and itjust felt wrong to leave that guy standing there.”

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, while you were gone, the girlsand I were talking about dresses, and we all know about your wholeeye-contact-with-Christian story and figured you were nervous, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t have many friends when I was growing up, so thiswhole dynamic is new to me. I’m still learning about healthy friendships.

Does Christian have a group of friends that he’s talkingto about me and our maybe-date?

“So? Are you ready to admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you’re nervous about Christian calling?” she asks, butthen stops and gasps, her eyes going wide. “Or maybe you’re nervous that he won’tcall.” Another gasp. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re worried that his publicist isgoing to put this idea to him, and he won’t be interested.”

“Um…”

“Oh. My. Gosh!”

Jen sounds way more concerned about this than I think sheshould, but she could be right. Is that what my deal is? Am I secretly afraidthat he won’t call me?

I slowly sink down onto my bed—on top of a bunch of thestuff Jen put on it—and let this new information sink in.

Meanwhile, Jen flits around my room, offering words ofencouragement, but it’s all white noise to me. I mean…is a dress really leadingto all this self-discovery?