Chapter 9

Celeste

Under the cloak of night, I found myself kneeling by the trash cans, swiveling my head around this way and that like a cat on the prowl while the stench of rotting food wrapped around me like a shroud.

Jack had taken it upon himself to take the trash outside to be picked up by the truck in the morning. Although it was normally my job to take the trash out, along with all of the other household chores, he said that he didn’t trust me not to sneak the dress back if I did it myself.

“You were so wrong,” I whispered to myself as I rolled up my sleeves.

He was inside now, drunk already with the hockey game on full blast. Over the years, I had gotten good at slinking silently around the house to avoid his disdain. I had slipped past him easily on the way out here, and I would be able to slip past him on the way back to my room.

With one hand clamped itself firmly over my mouth and nose, blocking out the stench of the garbage and my other hand delving into the muck, my heart pounded with each rustle and squelch. I gagged as I sifted through the trash until finally, I felt something smooth, cool, and silky.

Gently, I tugged it free. A soft cry of victory became caught in the back of my throat as I pulled the familiar fabric out of the garbage; but my heart sank as I noticed the unsightly stains marring the cornflower blue.

I cradled the ruined garment in my arms, stifling the tears that threatened to break free.

“I can fix this,” I whispered to myself. I just needed to get it back inside so I could see the true extent of the damage in the light. I carefully replaced everything just as I had found it and set the lid back on the can before slipping back inside, silent as a wraith.

Safely back in my room, I held up the dress.

“It’s not so bad,” I whispered, holding it up in the light. There were a few stains—particularly one large one on the front of the dress—but they were still fresh. Some elbow grease and laundry detergent should get the job done.

The disgusting stench of garbage would come out eventually, too; I would load up on perfume for the ball just in case the smell had seeped too far into the fabric.

Despite the current state of the dress, I couldn’t stop myself as I looked at it. I felt an impulse that I couldn’t quite resist; I needed to see how it looked on me again. I needed to feel pretty, stains and all.

I managed to peel off my grimy clothes and slip into the dress. It clung to me, a tainted second skin. The smell made me gag, but I kept going; Matt’s words about the attractiveness of curvy bodies echoed in my head, a balm to my frayed nerves.

When I got the dress on, I took a deep breath and slowly turned around to look at myself in the mirror. A soft gasp escaped my lips, and my cheeks instantly tinged pink.

I did look pretty. Ignoring the stains, I turned this way and that in the mirror. I held my hair up in the back with one hand, pulling a few curly strands down in the front to simulate an updo. Smiling, I ran over to my vanity and pulled out a necklace and some earrings, then put those on.

Despite the stains, I felt… Pretty. I imagined myself dancing with Matt, swaying to the music in high heels. I had some eyeshadow and lipstick that would perfectly suit the blue color of the dress, and with my cat mask, I would look mysterious and elegant.

He would never suspect that it was me behind it all, and after the ball, I could slip home without anyone ever knowing that I was there.

I imagined that it would be rather like Cinderella and Prince Charming, only in this version of the story, Prince Charming would never see Cinderella again; at least, he wouldn’t know it when he did see her. But I was okay with that. I just wanted one night with him, one night to feel beautiful and like a normal girl.

Just then, a sudden knock on my door made me jump. Jack. I didn't have time to hide the dress. I did the only thing I could think of: I flung myself into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin just as the door swung open.

“Celeste.” Jack's voice filled the room, his tone dark and accusing.

My heart pounded in my chest as I replied. “Yes, Jack?” I yawned and rolled over, holding the sheets tightly up against my chin as I tried to pretend thatI had been asleep.

He grumbled, “Don't play innocent with me. What were you thinking earlier, buying that dress? You can’t go to the ball.”

I swallowed hard. “I... I wasn’t going to…”

“Save it,” Jack grumbled. “If you so much as think about leaving this house, I'll lock you in here. I’ve worked hard to build up our reputation in this town over the years, and I can’t have you ruining it. Besides, people will tease you. Do you want that?”

I shook my head. “I don’t,” I murmured.

“Good.” Jack’s eyes narrowed and he looked around for a moment before glaring at me once more. “Promise you won’t try to go.”

Hot tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. I nodded, the words barely a whisper. “I won't go. I promise.”

Jack let out a deep sigh, seemingly satisfied. His nose pricked up though, and he sniffed the air, making a disgusted face. For a moment, I was certain that he would storm over and rip my covers away, revealing my dress; but he didn’t.

“And clean your room up,” he demanded, taking one step out of the door. “It smells like a pigsty in here.”

He left without another word, leaving me alone with nothing but my ruined dress and my shattered plans.

Tears leaked down my cheeks as I crawled out of bed. I glanced at the mirror, taking in my disheveled appearance. Jack had won. At least, that was what I wanted him to think; as I looked at myself, lifting my hair off of my neck again and twirling in the mirror, a small smirk came across my face.

Just then, my phone buzzed. A new message from Matt to accompany his shirtless selfie. A distraction, a temptation. “Can you send me a picture to remember you by?”

My heart hammered in my chest. A picture? He wanted a picture of me? I swallowed hard, my mind whirring. I hesitated for a moment, then decided.

A closeup, just my cleavage. No face, nothing too identifiable. I snapped the photo, my thumb hovering over the send button. This was daring, unlike me. The old Celeste wouldn’t have even dreamed of sending pictures like this to her brother’s best friend.

But I was a different me now. I was determined to change, to come out of my shell. Jack could think that he won for now, but someday, I would show him—I would show everyone—that I was more than just a meek, fat, ugly little sister.

With a shaky breath, I pressed send. I had done it. I had taken a step into the unknown, sending Matt a piece of me, and hoping he would treasure it.

In the face of my brother's cruel victory, this felt like my own little rebellion. My own little win.

Grinning, I sank down onto my bed and chewed my lower lip while I waited for a response. But a response never came. Moments passed, followed by minutes; Matt left me on read.

More tears threatened to come as I painstakingly peeled off the dirty dress. He’s just busy, I thought to myself. Maybe he was pleasuring himself, or maybe something came up.

It was no matter. I wouldn’t let this get to me; I had a dress to worry about. I had stains to get out, and an older brother to fool.