I sat on the bed with my hand on the ice pack while I waited for Alex to find me there.  I left the door open, so I would see him if he tried to pass.

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Alex arrived.  "I was looking for you," he told me.

I got up to greet him.  "So I heard.  Michael said you had a chore for me."

"Yes, he told me to take you to Tara's."

Ugh.  Did I really need to go there again so soon?  "Why?" I asked.

Alex looked surprised as if I was unaware of something obvious.  I was growing weary with everyone knowing things I did not.  He spoke and the words came out of his mouth were as unexpected as they were unpleasant.  "He said you'll need something to wear for the New Year's Eve party."

"What?"  My mouth was hanging open stupidly.  I snapped it shut.

Alex  shrugged, "I heard every year Mister Thompson holds a New Year's party  with mandatory attendance for everyone on the island."

"Why would it be mandatory?"  It  seemed ridiculous to me Michael would try to force people to celebrate,  but then again it was King Michael we were talking about so he really might try.

"Something about giving back for all the hard work everyone does all year."

"Well, I haven't done any work, so there's no reason for me to go," I said.  Being forced to deal with so many people all in one night would be awful.

"Mister  Thompson said you would say something like that and he said to tell you  that you should come and enjoy yourself," he intoned.

"I'll hardly enjoy myself since I'm injured," I argued, holding up my hand with the swollen finger.

"Mister Thompson said to remind you you're perfectly capable of walking and you still have time to heal between now and then."

"Fine.  I'll come.  Just give me a couple of minutes."  Michael had probably already made up his stubborn mind no matter what I said.

"I'll wait at the jeep," Alex told me.  I glared at his back as he walked away.

I took my sweet time doing a whole lot of nothing, just to inconvenience Alex.  It probably was not fair to take my pique out on him.  "Stop acting like a bratty child, little girl," I heard Michael say in my imagination.  I told my imaginary Michael to shut up.  It made me feel better.  I told him several more rude things in my mind before I left the room.

I went outside and got in the jeep.  Alex hit the accelerator and away we drove.  Before I was ready for it, we were at the village and I was being herded towards Tara's shop.

Alex opened the door and I braced myself of a verbal tsunami.

"Alex!  Dylan!  How good to see you both again!  I was just putting away some of the new stock that just arrived and you come in!  What can I help you with?"  Tara said, barely stopping to breath.

Alex said, "Dylan needs a dress."

Tara looked positively beside herself with joy at that information.  "A dress?  I'll bet it's for the New Year's Eve celebration!"  She did that thing where she sang the last word and I cringed.

"I'm so glad that you came in today, Dylan!  I just received new dresses!" she said and then her mood turned to displeasure, as if flicking a light switch.  She continued more darkly, "Of course, I was supposed to receive these dresses weeks ago, but they were apparently misplaced in transit."  Tara's mood jumped to happy again and she continued speaking without missing a beat, "But at least they are here now and that is what is important, isn't it?  You are going to love this dance, Dylan!  Michael will be there too like every year.  Isn't that awesome?  We need to make you look beautiful!  That's our goal!  What is your favorite color?  Oh, I think that I have the perfect dress for you!  Just wait here a minute!  I'll be right back!"  Without waiting for me to respond Tara dashed back through the door behind the counter.

"Wow."  I blinked.

Alex nodded.  "Yeah.  She's more excited than I've seen her before."

After a minute Tara bustled back into the room, with her arms full of dresses.  "Go try these on," she ordered me, practically shoving me towards the back room with her free hand.

"But I thought there was only one dress," I protested weakly.

"Start with this one and work from there," she said, pulling on a gauzy red one.  "Make sure that you come out and show us!  Alex, don't go anywhere.  We need your opinion too!"

I went in to the small cubicle where I had tried on my swim suit.  I pulled the dress on as quickly as possible with my poor swollen fingers, thinking I would get it over with so I could be free.  I did not even bother to look in the mirror on the wall as I went out into the main room.

"Oh, you look fantastic!  Just fantastic!  What do you think, Alex?" Tara gushed.

"It's good," he agreed, looking embarrassed with Tara's figurative spotlight trained on him.

"Now get back in there and try on the next one!" Tara ordered, in a tone I did not feel up to arguing with.  I did as she said and pulled on a different dress.  I walked back out of the little room obediently.

"Amazing!  That one is just as fantastic, no, more fantastic than the first!  Doesn't she look fabulous, Alex?"

"Sure."  He was not even looking at me.

"It makes your bust look really good!  Doesn't it—"

"Okay, I'm going to try on the next," I interrupted before she could finish her question to Alex.

"Oh, do try on the black one next."  Deflection successful.  I went ahead and threw on the next one.  It was clearly too big, but I wore it out just to show Tara.

"This one is too big," I announced, before spinning back on my heel.

"I thought that one might be," I heard Tara telling Alex.  "But one never knows."

The next one I put on was thankfully the last.  I had trouble getting into it beyond even the trouble of my painful hand, because it had a couple of layers and some unusual crossing of the straps.  I tried to hurry because thoughts  of Tara discussing how nice my bust had looked with Alex sent a shot of  embarrassment rushing through me.  In my haste I got all tangled up in the straps.  I had to take it off again just to get it to go over my head properly. 

I jarred my finger unpleasantly twice in the process.  A final glance in the mirror told me I had succeeded in at least getting all the portions of the dress where they belonged.  No article of clothing should be this difficult.

Tara jumped up from the spot where she had been perching when I came out.  "Oh, Dylan, you look fantastic!  This is by far the best!  You look like a dream!  Oh, Alex!  Look at her!  Isn't she beautiful?"

"She does looks nice," he agreed, although his voice sounding strained.  I felt bad he had gotten roped into the whole ordeal.  At least he was being paid.  Of course, when one boiled it down, this ordeal was also completely Michael's fault as always.

"So am I finished?"  I wondered.

"No, of course not!  While  this dress is beautiful, the black makes your skin look fetching, the  blue in that sparkly gauze overall compliments your coloring, and while the fit is pretty good it is by no means perfect!"  She then stretched out a roll of measuring tape and proceeded to wrap it around me in various ways.  I felt rather like a bemused observer.

Tara kept up a steady stream of chatter while she worked, until all I heard coming from her mouth was a light buzzing noise. 

I was quickly discovering my favorite thing about Tara was that I did not have to think of anything to say.  She did not even require a dutiful "uh huh," or any response from me most of the time.  It seemed she mainly just needed a living breathing creature somewhere in her vicinity to power her endless monologue.  I wondered idly when she would be done measuring me.  I was starting to feel bored.

The tone of the buzzing changed, so I listened to what she said.  "This will be absolutely perfect, Dylan, you'll look like a dream!  Here, now take the dress off and I'll adjust it and send it over."  She turned to Alex and said, "You can come back at seven.  I'll have the dress adjusted by then.  You can try it on, just to be sure that it is absolutely perfect!"  She then turned to me, "Well, what are you still standing there for?  Go and take off—Oh, wait a second!  We need to find you some accessories!  And shoes!  Oh, how could I be so silly?  Here I am, trying to make this most important night of your life perfect for you and I forget the most important things?"

"Most important night of my life?" I repeated dumbly.  What was she talking about now?

Tara shook her head sadly, "I know, I apologize, no need to rub it in.  I'll—of course!  I have the perfect piece of jewelry in the back!  It will complete the look, I'm sure of it!  I'll go see what I have for shoes, too.  Just wait right here!"  She charged off.

"Most important night?" I muttered to myself again.  I figured she was probably referring to Michael, but what if I was wrong?  What if there was some weird immortal vampire god ritual thing I had to take part in?  Michael might not tell me if he thought I would protest.  Then I noticed Alex was chuckling in the corner, apparently at my misfortune.  I vowed silent revenge.

Tara came back in, this time with her arms full of shoes.  I waited while she jammed shoe after shoe on my feet, making comments and forcing Alex to give his opinion.  Served him right for laughing at me.  He answered in non committal ways.  Tara seemed happy enough with his contributions and I supposed that was what mattered.

"These two are definitely the best," Tara said, pushing two to the front, then pushing two more "But these are also good too.  Which is your favorite?"

Truthfully, they all felt uncomfortable and looked unstable.  There had been odd occasions when I had dressed up in my former life and I would not have thought twice about wearing heels then.  I knew it was as easy as tiptoeing, but that all was before Michael had transformed me into an immortal accident.  I was probably going to break my legs or sprain my ankles. 

I realized I had yet to answer, so I said, "I've got no preference."

Tara smiled and shrugged.  "Then wear this pair, but I'll send these other three for when you have other occasions!"

"Other occasions?" I asked woefully.

"I'm sure there will be more," she explained.  "Well, now I'm going to go and pick out some jewelry!"

"Wait," I said quickly, before she disappeared.  "I'm getting a headache.  You've been doing such a good job here I don't think that you even need me.  In fact, I'm so confident in what you're doing that I  don't even need to come back with Alex if my head is not better." I  tried to sound excited, but I believe I failed miserably.  Either way she did not seem to notice.  "Oh," I added in an undertone so Alex would not hear from across  the room, "I believe Alex needs some clothes too, if you could fit him  up when he comes back to pick up my clothes.  I would come, but my poor head is pounding dreadfully!"

Tara looked positively aglow at the idea of dressing up another victim.  "Alex, this poor thing is suffering.  Take her home, but make sure that you come back at seven!"  Revenge complete, I thought with inward glee.

"Thank you, Tara," I said sweetly, as we left.

"How's your head?" Alex asked me once we got into the jeep.  I felt mildly guilty that he believed my lie.  I shrugged.  I was feeling out of sorts, close enough.

"I'll live.  I think I just need to lie down for a while."

"That's good.  Mister Thompson would be upset if you died," he said with a joking smile. 

As we drove back I noted he seemed sidetracked as if he were thinking about something far away.  I was quiet, too, because I figured I had better play up the headache thing.  I did not particularly like lying, but I also had no desire to confess.

When  we got back to the house, I went straight to my room and spent an  enjoyable afternoon reading and distracting myself from the coming New  Year's disaster. 

I fell asleep and if I dreamed, I cannot recall.

A knock on my door woke me up.  I stretched, smoothed out my skirt and winced, because I had used my injured hand again.  It was beginning to feel much better; the persistent throbbing had faded to a dull ache.  It still hurt to use it, though.  I got up and pulled the door open.

"Alex!  Did you go back to Tara's?" I asked wickedly.  The answer was obvious; he was carrying about a half dozen bags in one hand and a dress bag in the other.  I imagined him being forced to try on dozens of shirts and pants and grinned.

"Yes," he agreed, his tone expressing none of the anguish I would have expected after going through what I did morning.  Perhaps he was more of a strategic minded person than I knew and it was all a plot to destabilize my revenge.  Or perhaps I was an idiot, stuck idly on an island with nothing to occupy my thoughts except paranoid stupidity.  I shrugged.  Better to not to know that answer.

Alex brought me out of my random thoughts with his next words.  "Seems your headache is better?"

"My head feels great now."

"That's good, since Tara has very specific ideas on what you are to wear and do tomorrow.  If you don't want to listen to her chastise you the entire night, you should probably just do what she says."  His tone was so gloomy it almost made me laugh, at least until I started to imagine what he had described.  I could picture it clearly, Tara talking so fast I could hardly keep up and the lightning quick changes in mood.  He was right to be gloomy.

"What did she say?" I asked.

Alex set the bags on the floor and then handed me the dress bag.  "I'm told this is your outfit.  You need to hang it up.  Tara said to tell you that she is going to come tomorrow at three to help you get ready and do your hair.  All these other bags," he said, sweeping his hand towards the floor, "Are other things she feels that you need.  You can ask her tomorrow if you want to know more."

"Do I really have to go to this thing?" I asked.

"Seems like," he agreed.  "I've got to head off now.  See you tomorrow."

"Thanks.  Bye."

"Goodbye."  He grinned and left.

I sighed.  My stomach complained.

I walked downstairs.

"Little girl, come join us," Michael called as I walked past the dining room.  I turned and saw him sitting around the dining room table with Alicia, Terrence and a man I did not recognize.  Michael grinned mockingly, Alicia glowered and Terrence watched me quietly.

"No thanks, I just wanted a breath of fresh air," I lied.  I did not want to have to converse with anyone new and I was not that keen on those I already knew around that table, either.

I went out through the front door and the humidity hit me hard.  I would not be getting a breath of fresh air here, but it hardly mattered because I had not really come out for that anyway.

I doubled back around the opposite side of the house so they would not spot me through the windows on my way to the kitchen.  I opened the door and found Pierre still there.  I wondered how late he stayed every night.  He seemed to do little else.

He was sitting at the small table, eating something in a bowl.  When he saw me, he got up and dished me out a bowl, placed it on the table across from him and sat back down.  I sat down too and started to eat what turned out to be fragrant stew. 

While I ate, I thought about the coming party.  I had never been a huge fan of parties.  My father had a general negative view of anything that did not have a specific and useful purpose.  On the other hand,  my mother had quite liked them and her infernal fussing about my  insufficient appearance and manners had been difficult to take.  Add  the fact I did not enjoy huge groups of people pushing all around me, asking me questions, and expecting me to  say entertaining things and I was not exactly the life of the party.

Pierre was eating silently against the wall.  He probably did not like large groups either.  He did not seem to like much of anybody.  I wondered if he was going to the New Year's function.

"Are you going to that party tomorrow night?"

"Yes."  His answer was as short as always.  I felt a bit annoyed, even though I had expected nothing else.  The least he could do was show some party hating solidarity.

"Do you want to?"

Pierre shrugged.  I accepted that being uninformative was just the way he was.  I kept eating.

If Michael was even making the antisocial chef go, there was little hope for me to escape the same fate.  I was defeated before the battle even began.  The thought completely deflated my desire to go and confront Michael on his stupid rule.  Going to some stupid party would not kill me, unless I fell and broke my neck thanks to the heels Tara was making me wear. 

I could endure the one night and hope I did not have to repeat the experience next year.  I would be gone by then anyway, would I not?

I rinsed off my plate and then made my way back to my room.  I read for a while to keep my mind off the uncomfortable experience ahead of me and finally fell back asleep.