“No, not that one,” Trina said. She shook her head vigorously. I set the hanger back on the closet rack and hovered my hand above the next shirt. “Ok, we can try that.” I tossed it into the pile on my bed.

We were picking out an outfit for my gig tomorrow. I’d fallen into full panic mode when I realized that the dress we bought at the vintage store, the one we’d originally planned on for me to wear, wouldn’t work well if I needed to bend down. The neckline was just a little bit too low. The idea that I might inadvertently flash the crowd was unacceptable. I needed a new outfit, and fast.

“How about this?” I asked, pulling out a long-sleeved, V-necked black bodysuit that Trina insisted I purchase.

Trina laughed. “Are you planning on going full Josie and the Pussycats?” She pursed her lips at me. “I mean, I know you were worried about your boobs falling out, but I still think you should wear pants.”

I smirked at her. It would definitely be a look, but no. Not my look. I wasn’t quite ready to go full Lady Gaga. “What if I wear it under the dress?”

Trina blinked. “Actually, that might work.” She twirled the tip of her long ponytail around her finger. “That might work really well…” She nodded. “Let’s see how it looks.”

I stripped unselfconsciously out of my clothes to try it on. Trina zipped me into the dress and I knew instantly that the bodysuit would solve the issue. But it created a problem, too.

Now the top of the dress didn’t work. The dress was a sea-green seventies prom dress with a cocktail-length tiered skirt, plunging draped bodice, and cap sleeves. The chiffon fabric in the skirt had a bit of sparkle to it, not disco-ball sparkle. A subtle, mermaid sparkle. The right kind of sparkle.

While the problem of the plunging neckline was solved by the addition of the bodysuit, and I liked the contrast of my blonde hair with the black, the sleeves of the dress now looked very odd. Not a cute or quirky type of odd, either. They were just awkward. I bit back my disappointment.

Trina saw my face and frowned. “I have an idea,” she told me. “It will either ruin the dress or make it perfect.”

As far as I was concerned, the dress was already ruined. If I couldn’t wear it, I might as well return it. Perhaps someone else could enjoy it. Someone that didn’t ever need to bend down. Like a mannequin. At least I hadn’t taken the tags off yet. I could get my seven dollars back.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s cut the top of the dress off.” She made finger scissors with both hands.

“Huh?”

“The skirt is the best part of the dress, right?” I nodded. “And the skirt will stay up as long as the hook and eye at the back is still there. So, we can just carefully cut around the waist and you can wear the bodysuit and the skirt.”

I looked in the mirror, seeing her smiling face and my doubtful one. What the hell. “Ok, let’s try it.” Worst case scenario, I was out seven dollars.

Trina’s smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Ok, I’ll go get the scissors.”

A few snips, some tucking, and damn was Trina right. “It’s perfect,” I told her, spinning around and letting the long layers spin out in a fan. “I love it.”

Without the draped top’s crepe fabric, the skirt was infinitely more comfortable. I felt like a magical elven princess in it, but the black of the bodysuit rescued the look from being too whimsical. When I paired it with my black doc martens and opaque tights, it would read rock and roll instead of renaissance fair.

“You’re a genius,” I told Trina.

She nodded modestly. “I try.”

I was honestly not sure what I would do without Trina in my corner. She’d saved me when my dad and I cut ties. She let me stay with her over the summer and encouraged me to do what I wanted no matter what he or my mom tried to do to manipulate me into their molds. Plus, these days she listened to all my crazy relationship babbling about Ryan.

Today, my fear was that Ryan would hate my show so much that he broke up with me. What if I couldn’t deliver a good show on Friday? Ryan had done so much to help me. Would he regret all that if I wasn’t able to play live? It was one thing to make a video. You have an infinite number of chances to play the songs right. If your take is trash, you throw it out. Playing live is a whole different ball game.

“So,” I told her, feeling it was my duty to repay the favor, and a good way to distract me from my anxiety, “now that you’ve helped me do you want me to help you with your calculus homework?”

Trina faceplanted hard atop my bed. She just tipped herself forward until gravity won. “Yeah that sounds great.” Her voice was muffled by the coverlet.