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“You have a date,” Margot said, expression skeptical. Her fashion sketchbook was in her lap, but she just twirled her pencil between her fingers, attention on me. “AsStella.”
“Well, I’m definitely not going asme.” I scoffed, pulling my legs underneath me in the lounge chair. The tapered dress pants I wore didn’t want to stretch that way, but I popped open the top button, finding a position that was somewhat comfortable.
“Stellaisyou.”
Yeah, yeah. More or less. “Do you mind if I get ready at your house?” I asked, leaning my head into my palm. My mind buzzed, trying to figure everything out. “Maybe I could come over once my parents get back from their lunch?”
“I guess.” She grimaced down at her book. “But please wear something other than that god-awful black turtleneck.”
What—it’s—uh, excuse me? “It’s not god-awful, it’s edgy! And cute. And edgy!”
“I’ve got edgier things in my closet for Stella to wear.”
“Who’s Stella?”
Margot and I both whirled toward the railing of the upper level, finding Jamie and Nellie leaning over in a way that would’ve made Mom yell. Nellie looked interested in the conversation, whereas Jamie looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else.
“No one,” I rushed to say, my voice a few octaves too high. Margot gave me a look. “Stella is no one.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nellie narrowed her eyes at me, and I decided she was way too perceptive for a ten-year-old. “So, why does Stella, who doesn’t exist, need clothes from Margot’s closet?”
“Stella is a friend of Destelle’s,” Margot told them, nonchalance dripping from her words. Totally unbothered. Why couldn’t I have sounded like that? “She’s going on a date tonight and wants something pretty to wear.”
“Something fromyourcloset?” Jamie demanded, and even from where we sat, I could see the deep furrow to his brow.
Nellie, though, smacked him on the arm, starting down the stairs. “I’m so jealous,” she said with a sigh. “Margot, when I’m big enough, can I try on clothes from your closet? Ooh, or you can design something just for me!”
Margot tapped her pencil along her sketchbook. “You like my style, kid?”
“Loveit. Destelle, why don’t you dress more like Margot?”
I took in the suit Margot wore today, a floral-printed one that curved over her figure. She had her blazer unbuttoned, and her pants stretched perfectly over her folded knees. “I don’t think a suit would look good on me.”
Margot looked at me thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
My jaw dropped. “Hey!”
“Where’d you meet Stella, Destelle?” Nellie asked as she sat on the other side of Margot, fluffing her hands down her brightly colored leggings. “At school?”
“Don’t be dumb, Nell.” Jamie sighed, coming down the steps to stand on the other side of the couch. “They’re obviously talking about Destelle. Their names are, like, only a few syllables off.”
Of course I couldn’t get anything past Jamie, and it made me nervous. Jamie would be the one most likely to rat me out to Mom. He’d never rat out Nellie, though.
“Syllables,” Nellie announced, before saying, “S-Y-L-L-A-B-L-E-S. Syllables. Wait, so are you trying out a nickname or something?” Her expression grew perplexed, like I’d asked her to figure out a high school-level math problem. Her voice sounded distasteful. “Stella?”
“What’s wrong with Stella?” I demanded, casting a glance at Margot, who still looked amused.
Nellie looked me over from head to toe, the mere action feeling offensive. “You don’t look like a Stella is all.”
Margot tried to stifle a laugh, but it slipped through.
I slumped in the armchair, staring at the picture that hung on the farthest wall above the fireplace. It was some antique, passed down through Dad’s family. I had no idea why; the thing was ugly. Abstract art with a lot of oranges and puke yellows.
“Wait. So that meansyou’regoing on a date?” Nellie all but gasped at the realization, her eyes widening. Immediately, I felt everything in me tense. “Oh, my gosh, what’s he look like? Destelle, it’s beenforeversince you brought a guy over.”
“Drop it, okay? I’m not going on a date,” I said with an eye roll, but I looked over at my brother, whose expression was still scrunched. Great—he’d already started scheming.
“So, either you’re lying or Margot’s lying, because she saidStellawas,” Jamie pointed out.
