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I tried to force myself out of my funk and follow Vienna’s happy chatter. By the time she slid the car into a parking spot at Macy’s, I was mentally drained.
“Come on!” Vienna flung open her door and hopped out.
“Snap out of it, Juliet,” I whispered to myself. I tugged the visor down and stole a glance at my wild hair. After a quick attempt to tame it with my fingers, I gave up, grabbed my purse, and stepped out of the car.
Vienna was a seasoned shopper. She started at one end of the large dress department, ruthlessly flipping through racks of dresses. “Nope. Nope. Prom dress from hell. No, no, no,” she muttered to the tune of screeching metal hangers.
I wandered away toward a display of lacy dresses in shades of pink and peach. “Vienna,” I called.
“Oh!” she squealed and hurried over, grabbing a dress in a bright shade of peach and pressing it against her chest. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, yes.” I nodded toward the dressing room. “Go try it on.”
“No, let’s find something for you, first.” She draped the dress over her arm and pushed me toward a wall display of flowered dresses.
Bright orange and purple caught my eye and I reached out to touch the fabric.
“Oooo,” Vienna sighed. “I like that.”
“You do?” I plucked the hanger off the rack and held up the dress for inspection. Abstract flowers in vibrant shades of purple, lilac, and magenta were splashed against a sherbet-orange background.
“Let’s go.” She snatched the dress out of my hand and hurried us toward the dressing rooms.
We closed ourselves in adjacent dressing rooms. Carefully, I slid into the dress. I couldn’t quite reach the zipper, though.
“I need to find a plunge bra.” Vienna knocked on my door and pushed it open without waiting for my answer.
“Can you zip it?” I asked.
I turned and held up my hair while she tugged the zipper into place. Together we stared at ourselves in the three-way mirror.
She placed her hands at my waist. “This is perfect on you.”
Gauzy sleeves fluttered at my shoulders, and a deep, wide V showed off more of my shoulders and cleavage than I was normally comfortable with. The flowing skirt ended right above my knees. “You don’t think it’s too…I don’t know, bold? It’s a little mature for me, no?”
Vienna’s pretty face screwed into a scowl. “You’re eighteen. It’s your graduation dress. It should be ‘mature.’” Her expression softened and she tugged on the ends of my hair. “It looks really pretty on you. Enhances your coloring.”
“Thanks.” I glanced down again and twisted my hips, smiling at the way the fabric danced around my legs.
“But,” Vienna added, “we need to find you a strapless bra.” She skimmed her fingers over my shoulders, skipping over my bra straps.
My cheeks heated. I’d never had a mother to teach me the fundamentals of dressing up. Anything I’d learned was from Vienna.
“And I need something else.” She pointed to her chest. The lacy dress was rather demure for Vienna, but the front panels dipped low enough that her bra peeked out.
We dressed in our regular clothes and Vienna marched us to the lingerie department. I tried on several bras with the dress before finding the right one.
Last we hit the shoe department.
“These,” Vienna declared, thrusting a pair of deep purple suede heels in my face.
“I’ll break my neck.” I reached for the shoes and ran my fingers over the velvety leather. “They’re pretty, though.”
“They’re really not that high,” she insisted.
Once again, she thrust me out of my comfort zone and into something I thought I’d never wear. The three-inch heels were easier to walk in than I expected. While Vienna tried on and discarded several pairs of shoes, I practiced walking across a stage.
“Hopefully, I won’t face-plant when I accept my diploma.” I dropped the shoes in the box and closed the lid.
“Yay!” Vienna punched her fists in the air. “I’m so happy you’re getting them.”
Laughing, I adjusted the bags in my arms. “When you’re right, you’re right, V.”
She grinned. “Let’s go to the food court and grab pizza.”
I groaned. “Can what they serve even be considered pizza?”
“Come on.” She tugged me into the mall.
I wasn’t looking forward to going home, anyway.
The food court was jam-packed, but Vienna and I managed to find a table. I tucked my bags between my feet and nibbled on my too-hot-to-eat-yet pizza, while Vienna cut her slice into neat triangles.
“Hey, polka dots.”
I groaned when I recognized the voice.
“Douchebag Dougie,” Vienna sneered. “Shouldn’t you be on the curb with the rest of the trash?”
The two guys with Doug guffawed and punched his shoulder. I recognized one who’d graduated a year earlier and the other was Jameson.
“Juliet, right?” the older guy said.
Surprised, I grabbed a napkin and dabbed my lips. “That’s me.”
“You know my boy Frankie, right?” Doug slapped his friend’s chest. “Took our team to the State Championships last year.”
