Then again, that might seem like trying, and texting Daisy was no help
because she responded she was going to wear an evening gown, and I couldn’t totally tell if she was kidding.
In the end, I went for my favorite jeans and a hoodie over a lavender T-shirt Daisy had given me featuring Han Solo and Chewbacca in a fierce embrace.
I then spent another half hour applying and unapplying makeup.
I’m not the sort of person who usually gets carried away with that stuff,
but I was nervous, and sometimes makeup feels kind of like armor.
“Are you wearing eyeliner?” Mom asked when I emerged from my room.
She was sorting through bills and had spread them out across the entire coffee table. The pen she held hovered over a checkbook.
“A little,” I said. “Does it look weird?” “Just different,” Mom said, failing to disguise her disapproval.
“Where are you headed?” “Applebee’s with Daisy and Davis and Mychal. Back by midnight.”
“Is this for a date?” “It’s dinner,” I said. “Are you dating Davis Pickett?”
“We are both eating dinner at the same restaurant at the same time. It’s not marriage.”
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