Amelia

 

As evening drew in, Ameliastared blankly into her closet. She might know exactly what she wanted to do tonight, but that didn’t mean she had any idea how to dress for it. Jeans and a tee shirt? No, that didn’t make sense. She was going for seductive. Something a little more revealing? Somethingmuch more revealing? Her heart pounded even though she was still in her own home. She didn’t have to go through with the plan. Not if she didn’t want to.

 

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Yes, she did. Her father’s words still rang through her mind. The more she thought about them, the angrier she became.

 

She was still staring at the array of clothing when her computer chirped the Skype alert. There was only one person who ever Skype called her. She rushed over and hit accept.

 

“Hey, Amelia!”

 

Amelia smiled. The first real smile she’d felt in a long time. “Aubrey!” She tilted the screen, eyeing the women who filled the screen. Something was different. “You look great!”

 

Aubrey grinned and pretended to fluff her new pink and blonde pixie cut. “This old, fabulous hair? Why thank you.”

 

Amelia laughed, feeling most of the stress she’d accumulated since before the fundraiser vanishing. She was Amelia’s oldest friend. Aubrey had moved to Nevada in sixth grade and she and her military family had been gone before seventh grade started.

 

Amelia had expected that to be the end of their friendship, but Aubrey had been determined to stay in touch. She had written Amelia letters on Lisa Frank stationery faithfully, week after week. Amelia had taken a while to respond, but it hadn’t mattered. Aubrey had seen Amelia’s need for friendship and had decided to fulfill it. In a very real way, Aubrey had kept Amelia sane through her formative years.

 

The letters had become emails as the years passed, the emails became instant messages, and now they spoke on Skype several times a week. In addition to being her longest friendship, Amelia knew without a doubt that Aubrey was her only meaningful friendship. They might talk about clothes, money, and men from time to time, but normally they talked about Aubrey’s job, or the latest news in any number of subjects. Aubrey stayed informed on almost every issue somehow, and Amelia always felt better and smarter after one of their talks.

 

“How’s the new job going?” Amelia asked. “You must be doing well if you’re celebrating with fancy hair.”

 

Aubrey’s eyes lit up. “Amelia, it isso great. The director and I are really on the same page, and I finally feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, you know?”

 

Not really. “I’m happy for you,” Amelia said instead of answering the question. “It sounds like the move really was the right choice.”

 

“It was,” Aubrey agreed. “I swore I’d never move again after I got my own place and didn’t have to follow Dad around the country anymore.” She grinned and shrugged. “So, having inadvertently lied the first time, I hereby swear it again.” She held her clenched fist up to the ceiling of her living room and shook it dramatically. “As God is my witness, I will never leave Texas!”

 

“I like having you a little closer,” Amelia said. “Ten hours is better than...what was it? Thirty-five when you were in Connecticut?”

 

“Thirty-eight,” Aubrey corrected. “And I kind of like this dry heat thing Texas has going on. You know I hate the snow.”

 

“Only because you’re scared to drive in it.” Amelia stood. “Mind if I take you over to the dressing table? I’ve got to get my makeup on.”

 

“Go nuts. You know the stuff fascinates me.”

 

Aubrey never wore anything more than lip gloss and maybe a coat of mascara if she was feeling fancy. She wasn’t making a statement; she just didn’t have the interest.

 

Amelia envied the confidence. She hadn’t walked out the door without makeup on since the age of twelve when she’d seen a picture of herself in the paper next to Lauren and was horrified at how much more polished the other girl was.

 

She carried the laptop to her dressing table, set it down on the edge and flicked on the lights of her mirror.

 

“My eyes!” Aubrey cried dramatically, clapping both of her hands over her face.

 

“Oh, sorry!” Amelia angled the laptop so the bulbs on the mirror weren’t shining directly into the camera.

 

Aubrey laughed. “I can’t believe you still have that mirror.”

 

“Hey, it might be as old as I am, but it works,” Amelia replied, getting her brushes and palettes out, assembling what she hoped would end up being an irresistible makeup look.

 

“You know I was dying for one the first time I saw it, right?”

 

“Really?” Amelia looked at the white-framed mirror with its attached Hollywood-style bulbs and then at her no-frills friend. “It doesn’t exactly seem like...you.”

 

“I know. So impractical. It would have gotten broken the first time we moved. That’s probably why I wanted it,” she admitted.

 

“I know what your housewarming present should be, then,” Amelia said, patting concealer under her eyes and making a mental note to order the gaudiest, fanciest makeup mirror she could find the next day.

 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Aubrey promised. “So, let’s talk about you. What are you getting ready for?”

 

Blatant disobedience. “Nothing special.” She didn’t know how Aubrey would react to her plan and she didn’t want to test it. She’d already ruined one person’s opinion of her. Amelia began blending her foundation and then applied a few coats of mascara.

 

“I don’t know how you do that without opening your mouth,” Aubrey commented. “I thought the weird face was an essential part of putting on mascara.”

 

Amelia snapped the wand back into the tube and closed it with a practiced flick of the wrist. “That’s only because you’re a hippie.”

 

“Hey!”

 

A glance at the screen told her that Aubrey wasn’t offended. To be honest, Aubrey rarely was. She was the most easygoing person in Amelia’s life and talking to her was always as soothing as a visit to a spa.

 

“Seriously, though, Amelia,” Aubrey went on. “This is the look of a woman with something up her sleeve.”

 

“My father is forcing me into a life of respectability and dates with the governor’s son,” Amelia replied before sweeping bold red lipstick over her mouth carefully. “I plan to go out with a bang.”

 

She checked her lips in the mirror, pleased with the way they had turned out. She might not be the sexiest woman in the world, but she felt happy with the bolder look. Her father hated it when she wore red lipstick. Or more than one coat of mascara. She felt almost like a pinup girl. She definitely felt confident and that was great, because she needed all the confidence she could get.

 

“You do have kind of a sexy war paint look going on,” Aubrey admitted. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to be respectable,” Amelia said firmly, capping the lipstick and dropping it into the tray again with a small clatter. “Tomorrow. Tonight? I’m going to do whatever I damn well please.”