Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! by Lisa Papademetriou Read Free Book Online Page A

of secret dressing room — the kind you can only get into if you’re prepared to spend serious money. There are four large well-lit and mirrored dressing rooms opening onto a common area. A table has water bottles and a little basket of packaged cookies and snacks.
    Sheila points us to our dressing rooms. “Oh, I love this!” Chloe squeals as she holds a yellow dress against her body.
    I look at everything in my dressing room. It’s all hideous. And stupid. I pick out a hanger holding a teal dress with a fluted skirt. Who wears a dress to Thanksgiving dinner?
    In my house, Thanksgiving has always been a dress-down meal. I wear jeans. Chloe wears jeans. Mom wears jeans. Dad used to wear jeans. Gran wears a skirt, but she’s Gran. She doesn’t wear a new skirt.
    But that’s the past. I know that for sure now.
    My heart is heavy as I look at the dresses around me. I sit down on the bench in my dressing room and massage my temples. On the other side of my closed door, I can hear Annie and Chloe complimenting each other on their dresses.
    “Come show us something, Hayley!” Annie calls.
    “Yeah, let’s see!” Chloe chimes in.
    I sigh, looking down at my hiking boots. I guess I can’t wear these when I meet Annie’s parents. I look up at the dresses. One of them — a red one — has a rose on the sash. It’s made of some kind of gauzy fabric. I decide to try it on, since it’s the one that will look the most ridiculous with my boots. Maybe it will make me smile.
    I get undressed, step into the delicate red dress, then step back into my untied hiking boots. I don’t even look in the mirror before walking through the door.
    Chloe gasps when she sees me. “You look amazing!” She’s standing there in the yellow dress, which looks adorable on her. She’s barefoot, and gives a playful twirl to show how the skirt swirls around her legs.
    “That looks nice,” I tell her.
    Annie is looking at me, finger on her chin. She’s wearing a fitted silver dress that I would consider perfect attire for the Academy Awards. With her long black hair and light brown skin, she looks like a movie star. I feel like I’m on one of those makeover shows — and I’m the one being made over. “Would you spin, too, Hayley?” she asks.
    I clomp in an awkward circle.
    Annie comes over and grabs the dress under my armpits. Normally, I would have slapped her hands away, but I’m too shocked. She heaves it up, then stands back. “That’s a perfect fit,” she says. “And the color really makes your skin glow.”
    “It’s lovely ,” Chloe gushes.
    It’s ug-lee, I want to tell them. It has a fake flower on it! “I don’t think it’s really me.”
    “Okay — go try on something else!” Chloe says.
    “Those dresses really aren’t my style,” I confess.
    “You’re welcome to go look on the racks for something else,” Annie says.
    “I don’t really want to —”
    Chloe looks at me eagerly. “You should get this one, Hayley, it looks —”
    “I said no!” I snap.
    The dressing room is silent. I become aware of the elevator music being piped in over the speakers as I see the tears rise in Chloe’s eyes. I want to apologize, but Sheila chooses this moment to walk in. “Well, everyone, how are we doing?” she asks. “Oh, Chloe, that dress is wonderful on you.”
    “Thank you,” Chloe says politely, but all of the joy has drained out of her.
    “Chlo, I’m sorry —” I say, but my sister has already retreated into her dressing room.
    “And how are you doing?” Sheila asks me. She gives me the up-and-down once-over. “I love that color on you.”
    I exchange glances with Annie. She folds her arms awkwardly and looks down at her shoes. I feel sorry for her, and sorry for myself, and angry at her, and angry at myself, and I don’t know what to do because I don’t want this fancy Thanksgiving dinner. I just want my normal life. That’s all.
    I bite my lip. “I’ll take this one,” I tell