“You should wear the dressyouwant to wear. That’s what you’ll truly look your best in, Bardot.”
“But… I don’t think I’m going to the dance anymore.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And why ever not? Because of the mess I caused yesterday?”
I shrug. “Well, yeah.”
She pauses, staring at her hands as she takes my words in. “I’m so sorry, honey. But all that was on me, not you. You should still go. I’ll personally apologize to Zayne if it helps.”
I hold up the dress, and the silky material ripples in front of me like water. She’s right—I can’t cancel. Just the thought of disappointing Zayne is soul-crushing. My smile turns wobbly. “Thank you, Mom, but you don’t have to do that. I’ll go.”
She smiles, standing to peer into the jewelry box on my dresser. “Will you wear silver or gold accessories?”
“Hmm,” I tap my chin. “Silver seems more winter, but gold is more my jam.”
We talk accessories while Mom fiddles over me, arranging my braids into various styles for practice until we settle on the perfect updo I’ll be able to replicate without her. She even helps me choose makeup, and for the moment, it feels just like old times, before her accident, when she could be my mother, and I could be her daughter. No complications. No fear for the future. It’s bittersweet because I want this moment to linger forever, yet I know it’s only going to last until she leaves again.
When we’ve exhausted all possible options for tomorrow’s dress-wear, Mom tucks me in like I’m a child. And I don’t complain one bit.
When she leaves my room, I check my phone and tap theoffbutton next to my morning alarm since tomorrow’s Saturday. A twinge of guilt pricks at me because I don’t have any new texts from Zayne, no more calls. I open his contact page, my thumb hovering over the call button.
And then a Little Birdie blast explodes in my face.
Fledglings,
Thanksgiving Day is nothing more than a promise for family gossip and drama, and what could tempt a poultry like myself more than a juicy worm of drama over a meal of turkey and potatoes?
That’s right! Nothing!
This little birdie has been flying around town, witnessing firsthand the whispers of familial strife and antagonism. And the winner for the juiciest story goes to none other than our favorite girl Dot Bennet!
It appears that, while at an impeccably crafted dinner with Zayne Silverman and his family, Dot’s mom transformed into an utter thief before their very eyes! Not even Dot was aware of her mom stealing a bottle of prescription medication from Zayne’s house during the holiday meal. That much was clear by the spectacle she caused, yelling at her mom just outside the Silverman brownstone.
Her screams may have scared the other birds away, but this fierce flapper stayed around for the good stuff.
The question is, will our theater darlings split after this unfortunate mishap? Or will the blossom of their young love remain true and withstand the test of trouble?
You’ll know when I do!
Yours Truly,
Little Birdie
My phone feels like dead weight in my hand. A surge of anger blinds me, red and strong and vengeful. I hope everyone in the house, including Mom, is asleep by now because I don’t think I’ll be able to hide how upset I am and the last thing I want is for Mom to see this.
Who does Little Birdie think she is?
I finally call Zayne back. I need to talk to someone and he’s the only one who will understand. I know we’ll have to eventually address what happened yesterday, but I need him right now. I can’t hold off talking to him another minute.
To my immense relief, he answers on the second ring. “I saw the post.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Dot.”
“Little Birdie isn’t going to get away with this. This time, she went too far.”
“I agree.”
My throat feels tight, but I refuse to cry again. I refuse to let her win.
Zayne says in a low tone, “If I ever figure out who’s behind this, I’m going to kill them.”
