1
Birdie
“Sienna,” I groan. “You can’t back out now.” I hold up the glittery green headband, the one with the stupid elf ears she had me pick up for her last week when I got my dress. “We’ve been planning the Island of Misfit Toys dinner forever.”
Sienna freezes mid-pack, a soft smile flickering across her face before it fades.
“I told you,” she says quietly. “When my dad calls, you go. No matter what.”
She’s said that before, but this time feels different. There’d been no warning, no countdown texts, no chance to talk her out of it. Just him calling, and her dropping everything to go back to Chicago.
“Can’t you wait until after the party?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
She bites her bottom lip, gaze slipping to the floor, and I realize she’s already gone, at least in her head.
Then, to my surprise, she nods.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?” I echo, not daring to hope.
A small laugh slips from her. “It’s only a few hours more. Besides, I want to spend as much time with Mikel before I leave.”
Relief floods through me. I throw my arms around her, hugging tight. “Thank you. You’re the best.”
It’s silly, maybe, but I need her tonight. The holidays always scrape something raw inside me, and Sienna’s the only one who ever seems to get it. We bonded over our dead mothers and never looked back.
She hugs me back. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s a chance my dad might send someone to get me. If he does…” She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You’re coming, too.”
“Deal.” I toss the ears on her bed. “I’m going to finish decorating.”
She makes a sound of acknowledgement as I back out of her room.
I know we’re an unlikely pair. She could be a supermodel with her looks—nearly six feet tall, sun-kissed skin, high cheekbones, and sleek, dark hair that always falls perfectly into place. Me? I’m the opposite. Curvy, five-foot-and-a-half on a good day, and blonde hair that frizzes the second I get warm. Which, let’s be honest, is most of the time.
We met freshman year at the University of Missouri–Kansas City, thrown together as random roommates. She was loud, confident, and so damn sure of herself, while I was the quiet one clutching a suitcase full of nerves. Somehow, it worked. And somewhere between late-night study sessions and cafeteria coffee, we became inseparable.
But that friendship has never left campus. When the semester ends, she heads home to Chicago, and I go back to Wichita.
Or I used to.
Since my aunt died, there’s no one waiting for me there anymore. No house that smells like hazelnut coffee and no voice calling my name when I walk through the door. I don’t even have her house anymore. She left it to her brother and he sold it as soon as he could. Didn’t even give me a month’s notice, which is why I’m already dreading the end of the spring semester. I have no place to go, so I’m going to have to try to find a roommate. Which means me and Sienna probably won’t live together next year. But, that’s a problem for another day.
That’s why I planned the dinner tonight. The Island of Misfit Toys—our little gathering for everyone who doesn’t have anywhere else to go. A meal, some laughter, and maybe a reminder that we still belong somewhere. Because I desperately want to feel like I belong.
I give the living room and kitchen one last look, taking in the chaos of twinkling lights, tinsel, and mismatched ornaments. It looks like Christmas threw up in our tiny apartment and I freakingloveit. The scent of cinnamon candles mixes with the faint hum of the digital fireplace from the TV, wrapping everything in warmth. As a kid, I would’ve killed for half this magic, but my aunt never saw the point in decorating. Now, surrounded by all this glitter and glow, I finally feel like I’m making up for lost time.
Sienna calls out, “Dave and Sara just texted. They’re on their way.”
“Guess I better get dressed then.”
I’m dressing up as ‘Dolly for Sue’, complete with a pink gingham dress red ribbons for my hair. I don’t even care if the others dress up as holiday characters, but I want to do this.
In my room, I slip out of my leggings and oversized T-shirt, slipping into the dress. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I can’t help but laugh. My large breasts make the innocent little dress look like something it was never meant to be.
Well, nothing I can do about that.
I part my hair and pull it into two pigtails, tying each one with a red ribbon. My makeup’s light—just mascara and gloss—but I dust extra pink on my cheeks, leaning into the doll look. A spritz of perfume, and I’m ready.
