Little March

Chapter 5 pt 2. Trust Me, Darling

"I'd kill to be that skinny," a girl with blonde hair puts in.

    I meet Meg's eyes in the mirror again, catching a quickly suppressed flash of jealously in her gaze before she smiles. The fact that Meg, perfect Meg, could be even a fraction jealous of me, makes me uncomfortable.

"Do you want to switch dresses?" I offer quickly, trying to ignore the gazes of other girls around the room. I feel like I'm a fish thrown into a tank of sharks.

"No, no," Meg laughs breathily, and begins to pull my hair up. "I like mine." Though she doesn't say it, I can tell she's appreciative that I offered.

    She smiles contently to herself as she slips jewel-encrusted pins that belong to Sally into my hair, and moments later my blonde curls are up in a sort of braided low-bun with tendrils hanging around my face. I feel prettier than I've ever felt, and I once again wish Laurie were here to see it.

      Laurie. I suppress a grin as his name is chanted like a mantra in my head, entertaining the school-girl crush I've begun to develop. Laurie, Laurie, Laurie.

"It's TIMME!!" Sally squeals, and cheers go up from the girls in the room, everyone rushing to add last touches to their makeup and clothes.

   I'm thankful I've already bathed and opt for dabbing a bit of lavender oil on myself along with Meg, and then rubbing the rind of my leftover orange peel on my wrists and neck.

Hey, sounds dumb, but it works.

    The girls in turn pass around droppers of peppermint oil and mint leaves to chew, and then we're off, bursting out of Sally's room and heading out to the stairs.

    Everyone lines up on the stairs waiting to be announced, and grand amounts of people have gathered at the foot to watch. Meg giggles in front of me, and I grin, basking in the attention as well—it's hard not to.

"Announcing Lady Moffat and her guests—may the ball begin!" A man with a very official looking hat on booms, and we descend.

My foot has barely hit the landing when someone has placed themselves in my path.

"Madam," Sawyer hums regally, stooping into a dramatic bow. "If you would be so honored as to be on my arm tonight, I promise hour after hour of dance and complete merriment." His foot taps against the carpet, like he can't stand to be still even for a moment.

     I watch him for a moment, taking in the way he's combed his brown curls down a bit and changed into a nice suit and jacket. His glasses make him look scholarly, but not in a way that would suggest he's anything but respectable.

"Why, sir," I begin, dropping into an equally low curtsy. "it would be my honor."

     Sawyer grins and allows me to loop my arm through his, and then guides me through the house towards a lovely room filled with tables of food and waiters carrying glasses of champagne around. He plucks two glasses off swiftly, passing me one with a curious glance.

I accept it, and take a small sip.

     We make our way around the room, talking to different people. Sawyer seems to know everyone, or maybe it's the other way around—everyone knows Sawyer. He introduces me to different girls who claim to have missed him since they last saw one another, and boys who went to school with him and Sally in a prep school in London.

      I'd be content to just smile and meet people for the rest of the party, that being the less rigorous activity available, but when the music starts up and Sawyer offers his hand to me, I can't refuse.