“Are you going?” 

I looked up to see Emilio and saw that he was looking at me expectantly as he put down his bag and sat down in his chair. 

“To what?” I asked back. I think he meant the dance, but I wasn’t sure. 

“To the dance. Are you going?” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m going with Dahlia,” I told him. 

“You are? Nice,” he said. 

He started to rummage through his bag as he got out his things. I looked up to check the time. 7:44 am, nearly 45.  Dahlia should be here in three... Two... One... 

I turned to look at the door right when my countdown predicted, and who should walk in? Dahlia, right on time. 

“Good morning!” I told her happily. 

“Good morning. What’s got you over the moon today?” Dahlia asked me, swiftly looking at Emilio before returning her gaze to me. 

I scowled. “Not that,” I told her. “I looked at the clock and counted down from three, and you walked in.” 

“Oh. Hah! That’s funny,” Dahlia said, chuckling to herself quietly. 

I rolled my eyes at her before letting my smile break my scowl into a million shattered pieces. 

“I didn’t know you were psychic!” Dahlia exclaimed with a grin. 

“I’m not,” I told her confidently. “You’re just predictable.” 

“Or maybe you just know me too well,” she rebuffed. 

“We have been friends for a millenia,” I allowed. “But, to be fair, you do walk in at 7:45 nearly every day.” 

“That is true. Maybe I should scramble my schedule to mix you up?” Dahlia provoked. 

“Yeah, but as you said. I know you too well. I’ll just figure out your pattern and predict when you come in,” I explained. 

“Too true. Guess I gotta go off to boarding school to prevent you from predicting my every move!” Dahlia teased. I could tell she was worried about having breached on a topic that might still be sensitive, but I wasn’t bothered. 

“Nah, I’ll just text you every day and tell you what you’re doing at that moment. ‘You are walking into science class right now,’” I mimicked, miming texting into a phantom phone. 

She laughed, relieved, and I watched the tension in her shoulders melt away. I smiled to see I was making her feel better. 

She had her eyes squeezed shut, and when she opened them, her laughter subsided. She blinked down at me, her eyes flickering to somewhere over my head, then back to me. 

“Yeah, you probably would,” Dahlia agreed, nodding. She put her things down and sat in her chair. I found it strange that that was her response. I expected some more fire, maybe some sarcasm. 

I frowned as she turned away from me, pulling out her notebooks and her pencil case. Confused, I looked over my shoulder at the clock, which now said 7:50. Was she worried about not being prepared for class? We still had ten minutes, though... 

“Do you think we’re overdressed?” Dahlia asked. She was fiddling nervously with the sash that wrapped around her waist. 

I stepped back to get a better look at Dahlia, scanning her outfit. She was still playing with the sash as I turned my gaze to look over my own outfit. 

“I don’t think we’re overdressed,” I told her, smiling. 

“I think we’re overdressed,” Dahlia said, looking down at the uneven cement sidewalk. 

“Why are you so worried about our dresses? I think we look awesome,” I told her, trying to reassure her nervousness. 

“Yeah, we look awesome, but looking awesome and being overdressed aren’t exclusive! It is possible for those two descriptions to apply to the same thing at the same time!” Dahlia exclaimed. 

“Well if you intend to look less overdressed, you’re going about it the right way,” I told her. She looked up at me, confusion written all over her face and I gestured towards her waist. The double bow was loose from all of Dahlia’s fidgeting, looking like it would slip off of her waist soon. 

Dahlia dipped her head downwards to see where her hands were slowly pulling apart the bow and gave a giggle. 

“Oh, oops,” Dahlia said with another delirious giggle. 

I sighed, and used her arm to pull her around to face me. I bent down and slapped her hands away from where they still twitched the ribbon. I untied it the rest of the way before I tightened it. I heard Dahlia inhale sharply at the unexpected constriction, but I ignored her as I tied the bow. 

“There,” I said, smiling reassuringly. I took one of my best friend’s hands and led her towards the front gate. 

Dahlia smiled back weakly, and I saw her physically restrain herself to keep her from untying the newly remade bow. 

Right before we reached the doors, Dahlia halted. Her pause pulled my arm and yanked me back next to her. 

“Everything alright?” I asked, worried. 

“I’m scared. What if they laugh?” Dahlia asked, her eyes unfocused as she saw things that brought her fear. 

“They’re not going to laugh,” I told her confidently. 

“It’s high school! Of course they’ll laugh!” 

“Dahlia, everyone is too worried about themselves to worry about us!” I tried to convince her. She didn’t look any more reassured. 

I sighed. “Fine. How about this: if we are overdressed in any way or if you feel any bit uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Okay?”

Dahlia finally turned to look at me. The fear that crowded her eyes dimmed slightly. She nodded, and I nodded back. 

“Okay,” I said. 

However, I didn’t budge. I waited for Dahlia to make the first move to make sure I wasn’t pushing her. I waited for her to be ready. 

She took a deep breath and took a shaking step forward. I walked with her, and we slowly neared the gates. We could hear the music, now, an upbeat song with the drumline vibrating through the air. A few lights shined from deeper inside the school and I wondered why I was so hesitant to come here in the first place. 

We walked slowly through the school, keeping a constant pace. I ignored the instinct to walk to the beat of the song, keeping in time with my best friend’s steps instead. 

I squeezed the clammy hand in mine, hoping to quell her nerves. 

“It’ll be fine,” I told her softly, gently. 

She nodded stiffly and we took the last few steps toward the large cafeteria that spilled flashing lights and music out of the doors and windows. 

A gasp sounded beside me. I looked at Dahlia’s stunned face and smirked. 

“Told you we’re not overdressed,” I told her smugly, shouting over the booming music. “If anything, we’re underdressed!”

The entire room was filled with fancy dresses and pressed suits. Corsets and coattails all around us. There were even a few powdered wigs on several different people. It looked absolutely ridiculous and absolutely perfect. 

“Come on! Dance with me!” I shouted. I pulled her by the hand I still held and led her to the dance floor. 

I turned to face her, catching her other hand in mine and swinging her arms to loosen her up. 

“Come on! Dance!” I told her. 

She was swinging her head around to stare at the people around her. I patiently waited for her to come to terms with the openness and craziness of our school. And the apparent wealth and care towards clothes. 

When she finally turned back to face me, I smiled widely, giggling softly. I swung our connected arms back and forth to the beat, watching her shock melt away to turn into bright happiness. 

She started to swing her arms with mine instead of letting me do all the work. My joy sparked to see her enjoying herself at the first dance we went to together. 

Soon, we were jumping around our classmates, literally without a care in the world. 

We danced together, laughing at our silliness and smiling till our faces hurt. Was this what it felt like to go to a teenage party? Or just a party in general? 

I felt blisters bloom on my ankles and the tops of my feet grew irritated. I tripped and lost my balance every few minutes, feeling my stomach lurch each time. The lace chafed my arms and shoulders and would probably hurt like the devil tomorrow. 

I didn’t care. I was happy. 

Only when the upbeat music transformed into slow dance music did we quit the dance floor. Exhausted, we trudged to the side where several tables were laid out, covered with food and drink. Not amazing food and drink, it was still school, but it was decent enough. 

I grabbed a slice of slightly lukewarm pizza and started munching. Dahlia copied me, and we stood together, eating pizza and watching the sparse couples dancing awkwardly. 

“Imagine, slow dancing,” I said to Dahlia, giving an overexaggerated shudder. She laughed with me and we continued eating. 

“So? Not that bad, huh?” I asked her. I turned to look at her while thoughtfully gnawing on the tough crust. 

“Yeah. It’s way better than I expected,” Dahlia confided, nodding. 

“Not so scary after all?” I teased her. She laughed and we swayed slowly to the music. 

“Are you going to do something for your birthday?” she asked me suddenly. “It is next week, so you should start making plans.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. This is enough,” I told her, taking her hand and smiling at her. 

“At least go to your favorite restaurant with your family or something!” she told me, smiling. 

“We’ll see,” I told her as a bittersweet flower blossomed in my chest, filling my stomach and threatening to come up my throat. 

Dahlia saw the feelings written on my face, and gave a small sympathetic smile. I returned it, and suddenly, I was the one getting the reassuring hand squeeze. 

Suddenly, Dahlia looked over my shoulder and smirked. 

“I, uh, have to use the bathroom,” she told me. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, but, before I could do much else, she pushed me to the side saying, “Gotta run! Be right back!” 

I stumbled sideways as Dahlia disappeared into the crowd, and I was in danger of falling when I slammed into a wall. Except the wall wasn’t a wall. It was a person. 

Warm hands gripped my upper arms to stabilize me, holding me close to whoever caught me, and I looked up. 

Of course. Emilio. 

I blinked in shock, thinking to myself, why am I not surprised? Emilio blinked back down at me, a smile tugging at his lips and twinkling in his dark eyes under his velvety black mask. 

“Clumsy, much?” he asked me with a teasing smirk. 

“Uh, not usually. Only when my best friend decides to mess with death,” I told him smoothly. 

He frowned in confusion, and asked, “What?” 

“Me. She’s messing with me, therefore she’s messing with death,” I stated. 

I stared at him, watching as realization dawned in his eyes. He let out a bark of laughter and I laughed with him. 

It was only when I felt his rumbling laughter in my arms did I realize he was still holding me. I was pretty sure he realized then, too, as he dropped his arms to his sides. We both took an awkward step backwards, away from each other. 

I saw a blush creep up his face to heat his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I felt my own face heat and mirror his. 

He coughed into his fist before abruptly changing the subject and saving both of us from the awkward silence. 

“So, your birthday is next week?” he asked, his face still bright crimson. 

“How’d you know?” I asked. 

“Um, I kinda overheard your conversation?” he admitted, but his tone lifted up, turning his confession into a question. 

“You were eavesdropping?” I asked loudly, in mock disbelief. I watched in amusement as shock widened his eyes and his blush deepened across his dark skin. 

“I-I didn’t mean t-to eavesdrop! I-I was just standing here, a-and I accidentally overheard...” he stuttered anxiously, fear tainting his defense, but he trailed off when I started snickering. 

“It’s fine, Emilio, I’m just messing with you!” I told him with a smile. 

“Oh,” he said, his shoulders relaxing and the fear on his face melting into relief. 

“Anyway, yes, my birthday is next week,” I confirmed. 

“What day?” he asked curiously. 

“September 27. It’s on Friday,” I told him. “I’ll be turning fifteen this year.” 

“Oh, congratulations!” he told me. 

“Thanks, but it’s not my birthday yet!” I said, laughing. 

“True. Is there anything special that you want?” Emilio asked me. 

“No. It’d be a gift to just make it through the week,” I told him, slightly sadly. 

“Why?” he asked. His hands were in his pockets, a casual posture, and he was leaning forward slightly. That was when he seemed to realize that he’d asked a rather personal question because he leaned back and quickly added, “Sorry, that was insensitive. I don’t mean to overstep. You don’t have to tell me.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” I told him calmly. I took a breath, tilting my head downwards and staring at the floor between us, steeling myself for what I was about to say. And I said it.