Starry Night by Isabel Gillies Read Free Book Online Page B

those beautiful things is not only because my father has an important job, it’s also because long ago, back in Holland, my great-grandfather made a boatload of money as a banker. That money is why we can live where we live in New York City, and why most of my family can work in the arts.
    Mom was seated at her dressing table in a pale pink silk robe, getting her hair blown out by Dinah’s hair-and-makeup person, Rachel. Hanging on the door of the closet was the red dress. Compared to the mayhem of my room, my parents’ spacious creamy wall-to-wall-wool-sisal-carpeted room, with the whirring white noise of the hair dryer, was peaceful and calming. Even Farah and Vati quieted down when they came in. It was a sanctuary of grownup-ness.
    â€œDo you girls want your hair done? I’m almost through here,” said Rachel, with a soft lisp from her tongue piercing.
    â€œ Yes , girls—you should take advantage of marvelous Rachel and have her do something fantastic with those locks,” Mom called over the hair dryer, signaling to Rachel in the mirror that her hair was done and to wrap it up. I lay down across the bottom of my parents’ bed to stare at the dress. I would never flop on their pillows that were plumped to perfection by Hailey, our housekeeper. I had been taught that lesson a thousand times. I’m not sure my mother has a harsher bark for someone who messes up the pillows, but like May, I am always allowed to sit or lie on the goose-feather duvet folded at the foot of the bed. The hair dryer came to a stop.
    â€œIt gets more beautiful every time I look at it!” my mother said, getting up from her little upholstered dressing-table chair and gliding over to the dress.
    â€œI know. I can’t believe it.” Flashes of Nolan in the doorway assaulted me. I felt like I had to squeeze my stomach.
    â€œIt’s a rocking dress,” said Rachel.
    â€œIt’s huge!” said Padmavati, as she sat in my mother’s chair and considered her hair. Rachel swept Vati’s long black hair up in both her hands and twisted it into a chignon. Vati smiled.
    â€œI wish I was Indian. Look at this hair!” Rachel tumbled Vati’s heavy, thick hair in her hands like every strand was solid gold. She practically put her face in it and rubbed it all around, looking like she might weep. “Hair like this is the reason I get up in the morning to do my job.”
    â€œPut the dress on!” Farah flopped next to me, dangerously close to the plumped pillows, and pinched my butt. My mother clapped her hands like a preschooler and reached over to take the dress off the hanger. Farah leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I bet Mr. Music Man is gonna love it ,” so I smacked her on the bottom as I sat up on my knees.
    â€œShouldn’t I take a shower or something first? I feel so dirty and yucky.”
    â€œNo, no, you can quickly try it on to see if it fits and then take a shower. Don’t you want Rachel to do something with this?” Mom came over and took a handful of my unbrushed hair and held it up to Rachel, who looked over with bobby pins clenched in her teeth and raised her eyebrows.
    â€œNo, no, I’m going to wash it and then let it dry with that stuff in it so it curls a little. It will be fine, Mama.”
    â€œUp to you,” she sang in an I-don’t-think-you-are-making-the-right-choice voice.
    â€œIt’s my hair,” I sang back to her. We looked at each other in a standstill.
    She tweaked my nose. “Okay, Wrenner. Take off those clothes.”
    I undid my uniform skirt in the back and wiggled out of it so I was standing in my leggings. I pulled off my sweater and tank top at the same time and threw them on the bed. Then Farah pulled them apart and folded each one properly. She could work at the Gap. I was wearing a camisole top with a bra thing in it. I really don’t have enough boobs to wear a real bra. Truthfully, it