Page 16 of Siren’s Secret

“I’m not—”

The rest of the room fell silent when ice crackled over Wave’s hands. Disgusted, she looked down and shook them, dispelling the ice into steam. Diana snorted and Salis soon followed.

“Yeah, this is going to be interesting,” Ginny muttered.

Chrissy chose that moment to pull her fingers out of her ears and glare at them all. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing important.” Diana giggled.

Chrissy looked suspicious for a moment, but then she blanched and spun to face Salis. “And what did you mean with the lady shit? What lady?”

Salis pointed at Wave.

Ginny groaned. “Do I have to call you a lady and curtsy and all that from now on?”

Before Wave could answer, Chrissy was tearing out her hair.

“No, no, no. She can’t be a lady!”

“Why not?” Now Diana sounded hurt on Wave’s behalf. “I think she’s—”

Chrissy completely ignored Diana, mumbling, “Father will never let me live it down if I’ve let a lady leave the apartment looking like that. Please tell me this is a joke?”

“Looking like what?” Salis retorted.

“Look at her!” Chrissy’s voice rose to the higher pitches. “She wears sneakers! She can’t—” Her gaze moved down, and she paled when she saw Wave’s prison-issued shoes. “What are those?”

“Well—”

“Are you telling me you’ve been walking around and seen in those!?”

“I was in jail, you know. They didn’t really care about fashion statements,” Wave mumbled.

“Aaargh!” Chrissy screamed loud enough that even Ginny covered her ears. “You can’t be serious? Of course they care! No one in their right mind would let a lady wear clothes like that. It’s a grave offense. Even with a death sentence, a lady would have proper clothing provided.”

“But—”

“I need to overhaul your closet immediately. You can’t—”

“Don’t you dare touch my clothes,” Wave gasped.

“Touch them? I should burn them!” Chrissy ranted. “None of it is up to par.”

“I don’t care,” Wave tried to say, but Chrissy wasn’t having any of it.

“Others do care. What you wear makes a statement one way or another, whether you want it to or not. If they see you looking like someone they can walk over, they will try. It’s about image and status, Wayla.”

“I hate lace.” Wave pouted. “And I’m not wearing heels.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she really hated heels. Who the hell, besides Chrissy, could run in heels?

“She is kinda right, Wayla,” Ginny waded in. “Anything you wore previously will be dismissed as a disguise, but from now on, every single thing you wear will be scrutinized.”

“But I don’t—”

“How about a compromise?” Diana, ever the diplomat, jumped in.

“I’m listening,” Chrissy said with a huff.

“You don’t steamroll over Wayla’s taste on what kind of clothes she likes to wear and Wayla, in turn, won’t complain about the materials, more flattering cuts, and better tailoring?”