I drape my elbow over the back of my desk chair.

Max twists his hand back and forth to show off the dress. It’s a cantaloupe-orange all over, which I suppose is fine. I’m just a junior bridesmaid, so my opinion wouldn’t do much to change the bridal party’s theme. The outfit is sensible, from its braided straps to its modest neckline to its slightly bell-shaped hem. The fabric seems just heavy enough for an autumn wedding. The raised, crisscross columns running up and down the front of the torso add a nice texture.

My eyes widen at the silver hoop that joins the straps of the dress at the middle of the back. My shoulder blades would be completely exposed.

Max grins at me. I may still be getting used to my new glasses, but he looks downright strange with his dark brown hair growing into a slight curl toward the base of his neck. I know it’s what Hanna wants for their wedding, but I can’t help but hope he cuts it back to normal by the time they return from their matrimonial retreat in the Gems.

“So, Klóe? What do you think?”

I adjust the squat, rectangular frames on my nose. “It’s a good dress,” I say slowly, “but I’d rather wear something different.”

Max slumps and sighs. “Listen, I know you’re not thrilled about the color choice, but the other girls—”

“The color is fine, Max. Can’t I just... have a different dress style?”

Max looks at the dress, turns it about, and shrugs. “None of the other bridesmaids have a problem with it.”

Ugh. The other bridesmaids have the bodies to support lower necklines on their dresses, too, for all that mattered to me.

“All the other bridesmaids are also twice my age.”

Max wrinkles his forehead. “I thought you like when people think you’re older than you are?”

I cover my face with my hands. I should’ve known I can’t count on Max to think of my discomfort, let alone my modesty. I don’t want to use Daddy to bully Max, so I try one more plea.

I drop my hands to my lap and tilt my head to the left. “It’ll be cold outside. Can’t I just wear a matching shawl or something to cover up? Please?”

Max groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Is that what you’re going on about?” He lays the dress flat on my bed, then comes over to kneel in front of me. Max looks right into my eyes.

“Klóe, how are you not over being shy about your scars yet?”

I fling my hand across my body and grab my left shoulder before I could stop it. My blouse is still on; it couldn’t have climbed off my body without my notice. I press my lips together and glare at Max.

“I don’t know, Maximus. When should I be okay with showing the world the big, ugly teeth marks on my back? When is it fine for a bunch of strangers to see the gaping scars and say, ‘Oh, that poor girl; I wonder what happened to her? We should point and whisper until we find out.’ Well, I don’t want them to guess, I don’t want them to know, I don’t…”

I stop to catch my breath. Max’s worried frown derails my train of thought.

Max sits back. “Klóe, nobody thinks like that.”

I shake my head. I was nearly shouting just a moment ago, but now I can barely hear myself. “Do you remember two summers ago, when we all visited Aunt Lucia’s for a week? She held a patio dinner party near the end.”

Max looks off to one side, then chuckles. “Yeah, sure. Angelo flirted with Lorena for half the night.”

Oh, right. Angelo had been more than disappointed when I reminded him that Lorena was our second cousin. I smile at the memory of him leaning across a table with his stupid “signature grin,” but dispel the thought with a shake of my head. I take a deep breath and continue with confidence.

“I guess Mom and Aunt Lucia must’ve told some of the grown-ups, because I kept catching them staring at me. All night. If I looked one of them in the eye, I’d get the same reaction: a small smile, a raised glass or a hand placed just over their heart, and a finger pointed in my direction for the convenience of who they were just talking with.”

Max looks concerned, but bobs his head from one side to the other. “Okay, Klóe, but that doesn’t mean—”

“You know how adults talk about children when they think we’re not listening, like we’re not even around! Do you know how many times I heard ‘oh, that poor thing’ half-whispered from just a few feet away that night? Thrice I turned around to find Mr. Lemwick just nodding along, like it was the first time he’d heard some slightly different version of the worst day of my life some new group decided to tell. For Mom’s sake, I could barely stand it. At least the other kids had the politeness to ignore me, if they were even told about it at all.”

Max had been looking past me to my desk. He straightens up, puzzled.

“You remember Aunt Lucia’s accountant’s name?”

I slump over my chair and groan. I stand in front of my oldest brother and stomp my foot.

“You don’t get it! It was embarrassing to have all these guests, all these half-strangers, talking around and about me but hardly at all to me. I don’t want to feel like that again, not on what’s supposed to be a joyful event. I want to focus on being happy for you and Hanna, not to have to worry about what people are saying behind or about my back. The less they see of it, the better.”

Max lifts one hand to stop me. “I understand, I understand.” He sighs and rubs the knuckle of his index finger against the soft part of his jaw. “Maybe I can talk Hanna into some sort of undershirt instead. A shawl could—”

Two solid, almost slow knocks on my open door interrupt him. He and I both look over to the doorway.

Daddy stands there, with his right hand still pressed against the door. His other hand is fixing some black-stoned cufflink – onyx, I think – to the end of his right sleeve. A black coat rests neatly folded over his left forearm. His black trousers with gray chalk stripes complement the gray, white-striped dress shirt and black necktie. I recognize the shirt when I notice the faded brown blotches on his sleeves and across the bottom of his shirt. His laundry must not be finished, because I haven’t seen him wear that shirt in about four years.

Daddy smiles. “How do my two favorite bookends fare this afternoon?”

Max stands and assesses Daddy’s look. “We’re doing fine.” I would’ve agreed, but something in my brother’s voice gives me second thoughts. “We were just working out some wedding wardrobe concerns.”

“That’s excellent. I love to hear you’re being proactive.” Daddy puts on his other cufflink and swings his coat around his head. His arms slip into the sleeves smoothly.

I clasp my hands in my lap and sit up straight. “You look very nice, Daddy! Are you going to a fundraiser?”

He fastens the two buttons of his coat. “Thank you kindly, Klóe, but no. I must attend a meeting with someone your brothers and I have been discussing.”

I look over my shoulders at the clock between two stacks of books on my desk. The face and hands are set against a glass-walled box with wooden edges. The crank on the box’s top can connect directly to the gears depending on how far it’s pushed in. Between my ears and my eyes, though, I might need to take it outside and wind it before the sun goes down.

“Isn’t it too late for business stuff?”

Daddy grins. “I assure you, she will make time for me.”

Max walks to the bedside table near Daddy. They’re nearly the same height. It’s almost like looking in a time-passing mirror, they’re so similar.

Max speaks so softly, with so much concern, that I can barely hear him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you, Dad? This is…” He glances at me, then clears his throat. “This might turn into a big deal.”

Daddy chuckles and claps his hands onto Max shoulders. “I am, in fact, sure. You have far more important things to worry about right now, Maximus. I don’t want business to stand in your way as you start your own branch of the family tree. Bastien and I will handle this, all right? We will have the assistance of some of the best legal specialists at our disposal.”

Max narrows his eyes. “How many are coming with you?”

Daddy lowers his hands to his sides. “All of them. I want to minimize the possibility of an unforeseen logistical runaround.”

I swallow a yawn. Since Bastien joined Daddy’s company late last spring, too many of my oldest brothers’ conversations have been turning into business talk.

I return to my book. Bolivar Bin’Howell Templeridge Saxtripe Colcut Quin-Tripe’s efforts to regulate and organize the expansion of his initial settlement on this peninsula is far more interesting than anything—

“Klóe.”

I’m not sure if Daddy or Max called to me. I leave my book open and twist around in my chair.

Max stands right next to Daddy at the doorway. They both have their arms crossed over their chests, but while my brother looks away from me with a frown, our father looks me straight in the eye. Daddy’s face is blank for a moment before one corner of his mouth turns up.

“I need you to wear something formal for dinner. Your new music tutor entered Atlantia late last night, and I wish for her to become acquainted with the family and the estate as soon as possible.” Daddy turns to Max. “Will you and Hanna join your mother and siblings in welcoming our guest?”

Max straightens his back and sighs. “I suppose. Aside from the bridesmaid dress, we had no pressing matters to attend tonight. Are Angelo and Dimitri dining with us, then?”

Daddy tightens his jaw and sucks in a long, deep breath. “I have no inkling regarding that shiftless wastrel’s evening plans, but yes, Dimitri will attend. Tonight seems to be the night for introductions, as he is bringing his new romantic partner to the meal, as well.”

I raise my hand to my mouth just in time to smother an excited gasp. “When did Mimi get a girlfriend?”

Max chuckles. “Calm down, you two, please. It’s just Lisani. Dad, you’ve known her for years.”

I glare at Max. How did he find out before I did?

Daddy fusses with his coat sleeve. “They are entering a new phase of their relationship and should be treated as such.” He looks past me, probably to the clock on my desk. “Now, if you two will excuse me, the driver should be waiting for me.”

I hop from my seat, hurry across the room, and throw my arms around his waist. I press my head against his chest and squeeze as tightly as I can.

“Good luck, Daddy.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

I step back, and Max steps forward with one hand held out. “Yeah, Dad. Good luck out there.” His eyes and voice are both lower than usual. What’s he so worried about?

Daddy grasps Max’s hand, and they shake twice. Max pulls Daddy’s forearm to his chest and clasps the other arm around Daddy’s shoulders.

Daddy’s eyes widen in surprise. Max whispers something into his ear. Daddy relaxes and laughs.

“It’s not as easy as you think, son.” He pats Max on the back and leaves.

Max stares into the hall after him, even after he’s gone.

I frown and tap his arm. He looks at me and, after a moment, grins.

“What’s on your mind, Klóe?”

I doubt he’s actually over what’s on his own mind, but he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. I wrinkle my forehead and ask the other question I have.

“Why did Mimi tell you he’s dating Lisani before he told me?”

“Ha, no. He came to me a while back, and I had to drag the details out of him. The poor kid’s been waiting damn near five years for that elfom, so I told him to do something about it or leave her alone.” Max scoffs. “I’m just glad he came to me instead of Angelo about his girl troubles.”

I cross my arms. “Well, I’m an actual girl. Why didn’t Mimi come and ask me for advice?”

Max chuckles and pats my shoulder. “No offense, Klóe, but the questions he had were a little above your knowledge set. On a related note,” he adds as he lifts the dress from my bed, “try not to call him ‘Mimi’ tonight, okay? It could diminish his charm.”

I hitch up my shoulders. “You just said it was nothing to get worked up about.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Yes, but this is different. It’s about time you stick to using his proper name. You’re old enough to pronounce it, so you’re too old to use that nickname. For Dimitri’s sake, okay?”

I slouch. “For Dimitri’s sake,” I say, hitching my shoulders.

Max taps the threshold twice. “Great, thanks! I’ll see you in a few hours.” He flees down the hallway.

I close my door, sit on my bed, and pout. Lisani and I already like each other. I’ve called Dimitri “Mimi” in front of her a hundred times; I don’t see why I need to change my behavior now. The only person who would need to have a good first impression of me is my new music tutor, who should see me as I am anyway.

After thinking a little more about the conversations, I decide to wear my goldenrod dress with the lace ruffles on the hem and half-sleeves. I slide to my feet and walk to the bookcase next to my desk. I look through the eye-level shelf and remove a thick, leather-bound dictionary. I heave it onto my desk, open it, and search through its pulpy pages for the word “wastrel.”