“Please tell me more about Zack,” Miranda begs, lounging on my bed and watching as I examine my borrowed costume in the mirror. We still have two weeks until Halloween, but apparently, the party here at Burberry is a huge deal. Not that I’m surprised. I’m pretty sure all the parties here are big deals.
“What’s there to tell?” I ask, turning to the side and wondering why every costume Miranda’s brought over for me to try on is so short and low-cut. Oh wait. Remember that scene in Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan has the voiceover about Halloween, explaining that it’s a day for girls to dress slutty without actually being called sluts? Not that I agree with slut-shaming, but that statement is still, unfortunately, true.
“He was so dark and mysterious,” she mumbles, burying the lower half of her face in my pillow. “Pretty sure he has a thing for you.” I snort and decide that wearing a red bodycon dress with horns and Prada heels isn’t going to work for me. Miranda sees the expression on my face and slaps the bed with her palm. “How clever is that outfit?! It’s a conceptual thing, like The Devil Wears Prada, you know?”
“I got it,” I tell her with a small laugh. “I just don’t think it’s going to help my reputation as the Working Girl, you know?” Grabbing the next outfit off the stack, I head into the bathroom and start to change into another nearly identical costume. “And Zack does not have a thing for me. He’s always hated me.”
“Hated you? He was practically drooling.” I hear the bed creak as Miranda gets up, covering her eyes with her hand and leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t think he’s hot.”
“He’s… Zack Brooks.” My lips purse as I slip into an angel costume that’s even shorter and tighter than the devil one I just tried on. Nope. If I do go to this Halloween party, then I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “He treated me like crap for all three years of middle school. I’ve hated him since I was twelve.” Except for those last few months when we dated. Ugh. I haven’t told Miranda about that part yet.
“Yeah, but people change…” Miranda hedges, peeking out from behind her hand, her eyes lighting up. “You look so freaking cute in that,” she says, but I’m not even going to put the halo on. It’s just not happening. “Although the devil costume was my favorite.” She steps into the bathroom and scoops the massive fall of my hair into an artful chignon. “Maybe with an updo? You have fabulous hair, by the way. Combine it with that costume, and you’ll be the hottest girl at the party.”
I smile, she’s sweet, she really is, but there’s just no way.