Finley shrugs. “Could be one of those motorcycle dude thingies.”
“DX mail is still mail.” I turn it over again. “They have ink stamps.”
“I don’t know,” Finley says, throwing her arms in the air with customary theatrics. “Perhaps someone dropped it off on foot like a stalker. It could’ve been sitting on the front step for the past fortnight, and I only just noticed. Who knows?”
“It was on the front step?”
She glares at me, then turns her attention back to Lily. “You don’t need to drink. There’ll be plenty of sober people there.”
I snort with laughter at the mischaracterisation.
“Okay, fine. There’ll be a couple of people there who—”
“I’m good with staying in,” Lily says in a soft voice. “I’m not much of a party girl.”
“Sorry,” Finley says, turning back to me with something like genuine regret. “The ball’s back in your court, hun. You’ll have to come along.”
I turn the plain white envelope over and over, trying to work out where it came from. Even in the age of snail mail, hand delivery would be overkill.
“Try the flap,” Finley says, apparently going for a prize at snark since neither one of us is falling over ourselves to be her date for the evening. “I find opening the envelope works far better than staring at the outside.”
A shiver hits my spine, right between the shoulderblades where it’s hardest to scratch. There’s no reason for it. No reason at all.
Unfortunately, telling myself that does little to budge the sense of unease.
“Is something wrong?” Lily asks, and I force myself to place the envelope on the counter again.
“No. I’m fine. Where’s this party again?”
Finley crows in victory, taking my hand and dragging me into a quick dance across the kitchen. “It’s in Fendalton, so you’ll have to dress your most la-de-dah.”
“Not a clothing style I’m familiar with,” I joke back to her, crossing my eyes.
“Let me into your wardrobe and I’ll find you something perfect.” She turns to Lily, trying to bring her into the circle. “Rosa has the most amazing outfits. She can dress in absolutely anything and look like a queen.”
I shake my head. “She means I can fix a few side seams on thrift store bargains.” I turn back to Finley. “Which is really not the rocket scientist level of skill you seem to think it is.”
“It’s magic,” she insists. “When you hem something, I can’t even see the stitches. They should burn you as a witch.”
“Says the girl who can take apart a car engine, blindfolded.” I spin away long enough to grab my coffee and finish half of it in two gulps. “Better make sure there’s room at the stake for two.”
Lily excuses herself before too long, heading for the safety of her room.
“I think we overwhelmed her.”
Finley is busy making up dance moves and gives a shrug. “Better than underwhelming her. Go get ready.”
“Yes, ma’am. Any other orders, or will that suffice for the time being?”
“Open your goddamn mail, you freak.” She tosses the envelope at me. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to do it myself.”
“Mail theft is a serious crime,” I remind her, heading for the safety of my bedroom while the going’s good. “Don’t make me have to tell your case worker.”
She flips me both fingers and I close the door, smiling.
Finley never fails to cheer me, even on those occasions when she winds me up as well. I have a quick shower, then pull on a short black dress, thick black tights I’ve hand-painted with a white abstract design, a heavy jean jacket, and tall boots as a nod to the increasing cold of early autumn.
Ready, I sit on the edge of the bed and examine the envelope again. My name is handwritten across the front in capitals, the ink a weird brown shade of crimson that makes me want to heave.
