I Like Your Shoes | ✓

Chapter 50.1| Wedding Invitations

"We've so much planning to do!" I say, taking a deep breath.

"We've got time," Caecelia says.

"Only two months," Freida says.

"I need to buy my dress! Will you guys come?" Caecelia asks.

"Of course!" We say.

"After Neave's done marrying, we'll plan everything together!" She says. "And Ambrosia? Timothy says he sent Calum a best man invite as well. Make sure he comes, okay?"

"I promise," I say, smiling.

"Thanks a lot. We owe you. See you guys at Neave's!" She says and hangs up.

The moment it cuts off, the phone rings again, this time flashing Calum's name.

"Ambrosia!" He screams, like he was running for his life.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask.

"There are about a hundred balloons in my room and an invite to be Timothy's best man!" He screams. Not with excitement.

"That's so cute!" I say, laughing.

"There are weird objects flying around in my room, Ambrosia. I fail to see how that's cute." He says with disgust.

"Show some excitement, Calum. Your best friend's getting married!"

"I don't see the excitement in that. Marriage is synchronous with life-long imprisonment. We just celebrate it to soften the blow." He says.

Everything inside me deflates like a balloon.

"Oh. Is that what you think?" I ask, narrowing my eyes even though he can't see them.

He must have realised his mistake because he begins to say something, but I hang up before he could.

"I'll show you life-long imprisonment, Mr Achorn." I mutter under my breath, take Caecelia's box and walk into my room.

~•~

I didn't talk to Calum in the next two days. I couldn't have, even if I wanted to. Neave made me and Freida scrub every surface of the house, even though the wedding was supposed to take place in a church five kilometres away. Neave insisted that it was all for her wedding, but Freida and I had suspected that she was just doing it to watch us suffer.

On the day of wedding, Neave rushed into the house at six in the morning with seven of her bestest friends. Needless to say, I couldn't fall asleep again.

"Ambrosia!" A nosey voice crooned and yanked the blanket off of me. Six blonde girls stood around my bed, grinning down at me. Squinting against the harsh sunlight, I groaned in complaint. Neave stood with her closest friend, Sarah, against my door, grinning.

"Wakey-wakey, maid of honour! We've to get you ready!" A girl with a huge nose says, pulling me by my hands into a sitting position.

In no time, I was ushered into the bathroom by six plastic blondes. One of them thrusts my toothbrush into my mouth. Someone runs a comb down my ragged looking hair. Another pulls out a shiny new make-up box and places it on the counter.

My eyes stay closed.

After about two hours, my face is done, my hair is shiny and twisted into a complicated pattern, and I'm technically hairless.

"Where's your dress?" One of the plastic barbies asks. I point in the direction of my closet, to a light purple dress I'd picked out out of sheer desperation and boredom.