Dahlia and I were still holding hands as we drove up the driveway. Actually, it was less of a driveway and more of a street. 

And, after the conversation we just had, I wasn’t surprised when Dahlia’s grip began to tighten. I swear I was losing the control of my usually tanned but now white fingers. 

“Deep breath in...” I whispered to Dahlia. I watched as she closed her eyes and followed my instructions. “Deep breath out...” 

After two more of these, Dahlia reopened her eyes and looked much more relaxed. 

“Thank you. That made me feel much better,” she told me. 

I lifted up our hands, which were still intertwined, and said, “I can tell.” 

I was referring to her grip, which had loosened up a bit. But you could still see the fading pinkish marks where her fingers held on to my own like her life depended on it. 

I watched Dahlia’s eyes widen, and she was about to apologize before I said, “I’m joking, it’s fine.” 

She smiled again, and we turned to watch as Derek pressed a button on a small remote. This caused the giant gates to open up and we entered the... Well, I can’t say property because we were already on that. We entered the... House grounds? Sure. 

The deep green grass and thick forests changed into a light green grass and a bright and open space. We turned right, driving on a gravel road around a small circle of grass with a tall fountain at its center. 

The Brooke’s had the kind of driveway where it’s wide at the start, but splits off into two different paths that reach around to connect behind a centerpiece, which was the fountain in this case. You enter through the right and exit using the left. But, because the initial driveway was so wide, two cars could simultaneously enter and exit next to each other without any possibility of them touching. That is, if the driver was decent. 

Derek stopped the car in front of the short stairs that led to the front door. Dahlia and I each exited on our respective sides of the car, hauling our things with us. 

Dahlia and I both waved to Derek, smiling, and he smiled back. As the two of us stepped back from the car, Derek put the car out of park and began driving away to some other part of the immense property that was owned by the Brooke’s. 

Dahlia and I turned and started towards the stairs, our feet crunching on the gravel. I had to walk slightly further because I had gotten out of the car from the side farther from the house, but a few quick steps brought me next to Dahlia. 

I looked up at the house that loomed over us. It was a very pale beige three floor mansion, so pale it was almost white. The shingles were a darker shade of brown, a more burnt and reddish tone that exchanged complements with the walls. There were pillars that went on either side of the top of the front steps. 

And all around the house were three foot wide soil areas that contained a variety of plants. The dirt was lined with stones of different sizes and shades of gray on either side of another five inch mock fence. Again, small lights interrupted the fence, spaced evenly from each other. 

The square window sills were all a color similar to the shingles. None of them were open, however, and frilly white curtains that lined the interior of the windows prevented anyone from looking inside. 

The front door was a rich brown made most likely of walnut wood. It was paneled delicately with an intricately designed spherical door knob with a ‘B’ on it. At the top of the door, there were three panes of stained glass with the motto ‘amier et apprende’ written in yellow cursive on a background of blues and purples. Do not ask me what it means, I have no idea. I think it’s in French, though. 

I could never get used to how rich Dahlia was compared to me. She had this awesome house that was so huge yet so small compared to the total property owned by the Brookes. I had a four bedroom and two bathroom apartment on the fourth floor of an apartment complex in the middle of the city. 

I stepped out of the light of the day and into the shade under the overhang that covered the front door. Dahlia pulled out her keychain, which was inside the left pocket of her loose faded jeans, and unlocked the door. 

We both walked inside the foyer, which was decorated lavishly with velvety armchairs, delicate vases with equally delicate flowers, paintings of sunsets and scholars in libraries, and plenty of cabinets with all sorts of trinkets covering them. 

The color scheme was made up of mainly dark reds, oranges, and browns with rich metallic accents that were scattered across the entire room. 

Dahlia swiftly wiped both of her shoes clean on the welcome mat that was just inside the door, and I quickly imitated. 

Dahlia moved towards the stairs that led up, and I followed her upstairs to the second floor. The color scheme changed to a lighter red and yellow palette, still with the same metallic accents. These were the preferred colors of Dahlia’s parents, who occupied the master bedroom on this floor. 

We weaved our way through the hallways of the second floor until we, miraculously, found the stairs to go to the third floor. That was where Dahlia’s room and the guest room were. There was even a game room on this floor, belonging completely to my best friend, along with the Brooke Library. But to be fair, it was totally the Dahlia Library. 

The game room was composed of blues and purples with hints of greens, matching the rest of the third floor. Inside was a television, comfy bean bag chairs and bookshelves, plenty of card games, board games, and even a few electronic games. 

The library had plenty of shelves stuffed with books all organized by genre, then by author, and at the center, there were a few low rising shelves that held all of Dahlia’s personal favorites. These consisted mainly of poetry and really old classic novels that have flowery language and strange compositions. 

There weren’t any posh paintings or antique carpets anywhere on the third floor, though. Instead, it felt a lot more like Dahlia. Simple, clean, with lots of books and ways to have fun. 

But, the best room in the house wasn’t the room with all the games or the one with all the books, but a surprisingly large room in Dahlia’s bedroom. Her walk in wardrobe. 

I knew for a fact that Dahlia barely wore anything in there, choosing to instead put all her clothes in a drawer inside her actual room. This meant that whenever I came over, I was able to drag her through the heaven that was made up of frilly dresses and silky jumpsuits. It also meant that most of the items inside the walk in wardrobe were new to both of us. 

This was where we both headed to once we made it to the top floor. We were going to search for the outfits we would wear the next day, at the 1800s Masquerade. 

That wasn’t its actual name, just what the students around school nicknamed it. It was actually called the 1800s Lords and Ladies Masquerade Ball, but that was too much of a mouthful. 

And, as said in the name, the style was an 1800s ball. This meant that I got to explore the extravagant fashions of the 1800s. I already had an idea of what would suit Dahlia best. 

The base should be blue or purple. Something with short sleeves to show off Dahlia’s fair skin and dainty hands. The skirt should be simple, not blowing out much in a show of modesty. 

Once Dahlia and I entered the walk in wardrobe, she hung back as I scanned the room for a blue dress. I would have been successful if the room had been organized. Except, the room was not organized, so I was not successful. 

“Dahlia!” I exclaimed when I saw the room. “What is this?” 

“What is what?” she responded, thoroughly confused.

“I organized your wardrobe perfectly last time I was here! What is this? The browns are next to the blacks with the grays in between! And the pink is next to the purples?” I wailed in pain. 

“I didn’t touch anything in here,” Dahlia told me calmly. 

“Oh, well now I’ve got to reorganize this closet!” I said loudly, throwing up my arms in annoyance. 

I wasn’t actually annoyed, and Dahlia seemed to know that. She smirked, and set her bags down next to one of her various couches, settling herself onto the couch in a comfortable position. 

I dropped my own bags next to Dahlia’s, and got to work. First, I pulled down all of the pinks, and organized them by shade. They would go before the reds, at the beginning of the racks. 

Next, I would organize the colors that were already in the right section. Everything would be organized perfectly so that anyone who walks in would be able to quickly find whatever they need. 

When I was finally done with the dresses, they were all organized by color: pink, red, brown, orange, and yellow all on the left side, with green, blue, purple, black, gray, and white on the right. Because browns were just a darker shade of orange, they would intersect between the reds and oranges.

And in every color section, they would be organized in such a way that the colors blended into each other perfectly. 

When I was satisfied with my work, I turned to the back wall where the shoes, accessories, and fancier jackets, shirts, pants, and skirts all lived. They seemed to have been left the way they were when I was last here, except the shoes. 

The shoes were all placed in literally a random order, so I immediately went to work, organizing them in the same way as I organized the dresses. 

When I had finished with all of the organizing, it had probably been an hour since school had ended. I turned to Dahlia, who was laying across the couch with her feet up on the opposite arm rest and a book in hand and a second fiddling with the ends of her red hair. 

I walked over to her and proudly said, “Done!” 

“Oh, good! What do you want to do now? I got a new game that I’ve been dying to try out. Wanna play-?” Dahlia said, misunderstanding me. 

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m not done done. I just meant that I finished categorizing all of your clothes back to their proper place. Now we have to find our dresses,” I told her happily. 

“Oh, great. We’re playing dress up,” Dahlia said in mock disgust with an over exaggerated frown on her face. Before I could take it too harshly, she broke out into a teasing smile, and laughed softly. 

“Oh, c’mon, you goof,” I told her, grabbing her arm and dragging her across the room. 

“So, what color do you want for the base?” I asked her. 

“Uh, I don’t know. What do you think?” Dahlia asked me back. 

“Oh, I was thinking about some shade of purple or blue,” I told her thoughtfully. 

“Hm. I like that. But which one?” she asked. 

I parked Dahlia at the beginning of the blues and began to slowly pace past the blues and purples to scour out the perfect dress. I managed to find several that would do just fine, plucking each hanger from the rack and placing them into Dahlia’s arms. 

Once I finished, I took them all from her arms and held each up to Dahlia’s frame, comparing the color to her skin tone and scanning the style of the dress. 

One was a velvety deep blue, the shade of the night sky. An off the shoulder piece with long sleeves and a very slim skirt. 

“Too modern,” I said, and Dahlia nodded in agreement. I placed the dress back onto its proper place on the rack. 

The second was a teal blue that was practically on the verge of green. This one went all the way up to cover the neck of the wearer with short sleeves going only to the mid bicep. It billowed out in thick tufts of tule with plenty of embellishments across the bodice. 

When I held it up to Dahlia, it looked a bit too fancy for a school dance, though it was closer to the time period than the last one. It also clashed awkwardly with Dahlia’s skin tone, making her look pinker, though I would never tell her. 

“Too much,” Dahlia and I said together as we made eye contact. We laughed briefly, and I pulled the dress away and hung it back up.