Returning back to the trailer, I'm again on my guard on my own property, not feeling relieved until I slip into the house. This is absurd. To be honest, all Aelita is at this point is bark. Sure she has pretty strong powers, but I've never really seen her do much, just talk a daunting game. Yet if she can make people fearful with only her words- like she has me- she's a formidable foe.

    I find Xalale in my room, reading yet another of my books: The Magician's Nephew. At first, I believe he's so enraptured by the book that he doesn't notice my presence, but he's not like me and even though his eyes never look up to acknowledge me, he knows I'm there.

   "How was it?"

    Kicking my shoes off, I inspect myself in my mirror.

   "Awkward then okay then depressingly sad then surprising then good then a little awkward again but then it ended off really good."

   "How so?"

   "We just kind of talked about things and I learned some stuff and,"-I look at him- "I had, I guess, what would you call it? A breakthrough? An epi- epip-"

   "Epiphany." He helps.

   "Yeah. It was kind of an eye-opener."

   "What was it?"

   I look back at the mirror again, attempting to tame my rebellious flyaways.

   "I guess that I don't notice things, or people, as much as I should."

   "Hm."

   "So, how were things here? Nothing eventful?"

   "Not a thing."

   Sitting down on my bed, I let out a sigh.

   "So she really is just waiting then? She has no backup plan?"

   "I still believe she does have an alternate plan, but what, I don't know. As of now, she seems to be holding back."

   "Interesting."

   There's not much we can do other than wait for her to grow restless and make a new move. I couldn't guess when that might be seeing how she sounds so confident and patient, but we have to stay on guard.

   "So," I say, starting slowly. "We still have eight more movies to go."

   He sighs, but not in exasperation.

   "I do not understand how you find these things so enjoyable."

   I shrug with a slight smile, already heading out the door. "Maybe I just enjoy dragging you through these."

   "Perhaps so."

   Continuing our countdown with Beauty and the Beast, I have to admit, I enjoy this one though Belle isn't too relatable to me (the book stuff). I do always love the ending, though, as it is a very well thought out scene.

   "This next one is actually named after the prince of the movie," I say, switching the disks out. "Technically speaking, he's not even a natural, born prince."

   I have to say, Aladdin is probably where the chain reached its peak. Pocahontas would drop that a little- all historical inaccuracies aside.

   By the end of Aladdin, it's nearing 5:30- still enough time to watch Pocahontas without worrying about my parents coming home.

   "What number was that?" He asks as I get up to switch disks.

   "Uh, the sixth movie."

   "One out of six movies that were manageable."

   I roll my eyes, "Really? Whatever, it's a start."

   It's a start indeed because he really doesn't say much- meaning he doesn't care much for- Pocahontas, but there is hope when I put in Mulan- the last film we have time to watch before risking my parents coming home and spotting us.

   "Two out of eight films," He tells me.

   I smirk, "It would have been a sin had you not liked Mulan."

   "Why must there be singing in every movie?" He asks, somewhat irritated.

   "Because. It's Disney."

    He doesn't get it, but it's the main answer to his question.

    My guesstimate was on point as I hear a car door slam shut followed by the jiggling of the front door just as we retreat to my room. I head out to get my mom, who isn't looking as tired as she has been these last few days.

   "Hey, sweetie," She gives me a quick peek on the cheek. She doesn't sound as tired as she's previously been. "What are you up?"

   "Just chilling." I shrug, watching her set her stuff aside.

   "You know," She says, her voice taking on a somewhat annoyed tone. "Mrs. Sherman has been trying to get a hold of me all week I hear. I don't know what that woman has to tell me that's so urgent. Probably rumors about so-and-so running around with whoever."

   While she shakes her head in dismay, a prickle of cold sweat rises but never trickles down. I could almost hear my heart hammering away in my chest at the thought of my secret being blown. Just one rambling from Mrs. Sherman and- even though my mom doesn't fancy her- the gears will begin turning in her head and the pieces will start to click.

   "Oh." Is what I finally muster out.

   My mom swats it off, heading into the family room where she notices the recent disks out and smiles.

   "Oh, you're watching Disney movies?"

   "Yeah, the princess ones all in order."

   "Which one are you on?" She asks, intrigued.

   "About to watch The Princess and the Frog."

   She begins to take a seat. "We should finish up the rest."

    At this, I frown. Any other time I would have loved to watch movies with my mom, especially the Disney Princess ones, but it feels wrong to watch the rest without Xalale, who's supposed to be the one watching with me.

    Upon my hesitation, my mom takes notice but still seems keen in watching with me.

   "What's wrong?"

   "I don't think I have time to watch. I need to finish something up for an online writing contest." As if to convince her, I 'tsk'. "To think, I've been home all day and still procrastinated."

   Even with this, I see her smile fade and a bit of disappointment show as she nods.

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. We can always watch them together at a different time. Just not today."

   It crushes me to see my mom try to mask her let down. I didn't know it meant this much to her. She waves it off as if it's nothing, smiling as she gets up from the couch.

   "Of course, sweetie. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

   "What are you doing!?" The little voice in the back of my head screams. "You're choosing Xalale over your own mother!?"

   "I am not." I mentally argue back in retaliation.

   "Then why brush her off?"

   "Because..." Searching for reasons. "Because. Xalale's not going to be here for too much longer- hopefully- and I can always watch these with my mom whenever."

   That's a fair enough point to shut that stupid voice up and give me the reassurance I need to feel better about my decision. Still, I feel bad for letting my mom down, so I creep into the kitchen and watch her flipping absently through the pages of her book. She notices me and regards me with a warm, questioning smile.

   "What's up?"

   "Ah, nothing much."

   She smiles for another second before her attention refocused back on her book. I don't move, though, not really certain why I don't, just that I continue standing there in the entryway of the kitchen. My mom looks up at me again, setting aside her book to look at me with her finger thoughtfully on her chin.

   "You know," She begins, already knowing. "The town festival is tomorrow and I get off at two to be there."

   "Even dad?"

   "Even dad. I can't wait to have a good time tomorrow, playing games, eating, but I probably won't dance. I've lived past those glory days. But..." She glances at me with a kindly smile. "You probably don't want to wear that old dress you wore three-"

   "Four." I correct.

   "Four times in a row. Mrs. Marz buys her daughter, Olive, a new dress every year. I say it's about time we retire that old dress and maybe trade it in for a new one."

   I know where she was going with this and I was growing more ecstatic by the second. Shopping, especially with my mom, was something I loved to do. Narrowing it down to dress shopping makes it a hundred times better. I'm already dashing to my room to get my shoes and purse to head out.

   "Be right back," I tell her, excitement dancing in my eyes and voice.

   I come in like a tornado, slightly startling Xalale, but he recovers quickly and regards me with a confused look.

   "Where are you going?" He asks once seeing me fumbling with my shoes.

   "Out."

   This short, unclear response only annoys him.

   "Out where?"

   "Out out."

   He just gives me a frustrated look and I let out a brief chortle, pausing at the door.

   "I'll be out for a bit- don't know how long- with my mom. My dad isn't home yet, but he will be soon, so be aware of that. Other than that, don't wait up for me."

   His expression still reads between confused and annoyed, but I'm already closing the door behind me, joining my mom outside in the car.

   I can sense the eagerness in her too- like we're two giddy schoolgirls going prom shopping. We actually haven't had any real mother-daughter moments in awhile, so this should be refreshing. Even the whole drive there doesn't deflate our spirits one bit.

   We drive to a place that's sole purpose is to sell or rent elegant, beautiful gowns (my dream come true). Since it's summer, the prom dresses are priced dirt cheap, allowing me to try on dresses without worry of breaking the bank.

   The moment we step into the place, I'm in heaven. From the dresses on display to the ones on the rack, everything glitters and shimmers as if made from millions of living stars. My mom's smile brightens at this and she pushes me along, guiding me over to a section.

   Since the store is color coded, it makes things a lot easier. My mom guides me over to the pink section out of habit. Can't fault her, pink has been my favorite color since watching Sleeping Beauty at a young age. I even said I wanted to walk down the aisle in a champagne pink dress. So it's clear why she brought me over to this section first.

   "Alright, so I was thinking more of a paler pink like blush or lemonade," She says, already pulling out some options for me to try on. "I think those would compliment your skin tone the most. But then again we could always step outside the comfort zone and try punch or rouge."

    I scan through the section myself. They certainly have no shortage of pink dresses here in every imaginable shade possible.

   When a sales girl comes by and asks if we need any help, my mom asks where the dressing rooms are and off we go to try on the thousands of choices my mom picked out for me. Most of the times, if it weren't for my mom, I would be so mismatched I'd look like a character from Alice in Wonderland. While I do actually find most of the dresses she pulled out stunning picks, they just don't look good on me.

   "These short dresses don't look right on me," I grumble.

   "I just thought since it's summer we could go short, but we can try longer if you want."

    I go back into the stall and slip off the dress.

   "Yes, let's. I want a beautiful long dress like a princess would wear. That's our criteria: princessy."

    So we go in search again of the perfect princess-worthy gown for me. My mom picks out some beautiful choices but the problem always lies when I put it on; they simply look better on the rack than they do me. Even though my mom tries to be encouraging, I can tell she knows what I'm saying is the truth. So it's trial and error for us, pulling out new choices until we can find the perfect fit.

   Eventually, I come out in a pick of my mom's. It's a medium length dress made of silky material and a lace top which covers my shoulders. It's a fine look on me, but I don't feel regal, it doesn't seem like the complete fit. My mom, though, is in love with it. Clasping her hands over her mouth in awe and excitement that carries over into her voice.

   "Oh, Mallory, you're so beautiful in that dress. I'm blown away, I really am. Turn around. Oh, so young and pretty. How do you feel in it?"

   I make a face, not wanting to crush her spirits, but not in enthralled with this choice.

   "I- I feel alright, I guess, but...I dunno. I don't feel like I stand out."

   "You do. You're so lovely in it. I think that's the one. What do you think?"

   I can't. I don't want to destroy her dreams of me wearing this dress, but I'm not sold on it. I'll admit, I am nice in it, but that's it- just nice, not a showstopper. Reluctantly, I speak my mind.

   "It's not the one."

    I hate seeing that wave of disappointment rush over my mom's face for a brief moment then slowly fade into dimmed spirits, all washed out. Getting her approval is everything, but I do want to wear something that will actually suit me.

   "Are you sure?" She asks tentatively. "Mallory, you look so beautiful in it, really you do."

   Staring hard into the mirror for a minute, I try but sigh, not seeing it fully.

   "We can put this one aside and if there's nothing else better, I'll go with this one." I compromise.

   Her spirits pick up some at that and she nods understandably, unzipping the back for me.

   So we set that one aside, going in search for something to top it. I'm trying to get myself to see what my mom sees so if we don't find something better, I won't be too disappointed. But in this whole galaxy of pink, how can there not be something?

    Turning to inspect a new rack of pink, my eye catches a brief glimpse of something in the far corner straight ahead from where I stand. Looking up from my perusing, intrigue overtakes me and I find myself wandering over to the section of blues- a complete opposite of pink.

   The dresses there are stunning too, especially the darker blues which caught my eye in the first place. I do adore the lighter shades of baby blue and cobalt, but they don't- I can already tell- compliment my skin tone (it would make me look too pale with my already strawberry blond to clash with it). So I roam the darker hues of indigo, admiral and cerulean, amazed at the different styles and cuts of the dresses.

    Then my eyes focus on it.

    It looks like the kind of dress you would wear to a military ball but even too beautiful for that occasion. A rich, navy blue, off shoulder, diamond studded neckline with just the balanced amount of bling. Its flowy, tull material ball gown bottom is not too extravagant or overbearing and it has a nice silky top with a slimming waist.

   I am in love.

   From the moment I pull it off the rack, I know this is the one. I cannot- will not- leave this store without it. As stupid as it is having a connection to a dress, I feel like I have it. It's so regal, so elegant, flawless beyond any imagination.

   My mom must have just realized my absence and discovers me in the blues, holding the dress out, memorized by it.

   "Mal, what are you doing over here?"

   Hugging the dress, but careful not to wrinkle it, I look over at her, eyes shining in glee.

   "Mom," I can barely contain myself. "This is the one. It's perfect. It's indescribable."

   She gives a look that tells me I'm being a tad too dramatic, but I can't help it.

   "I'm gonna go try it on."

   I rush off to the dressing room before my mom has a chance to interrupt. Usually, my fashion judgments can be a bit off and while I don't look a complete mess, I do seem haphazardly slapped together sometimes. But this time, I trust my judgment and slip into the stunning thing.

   Outside, I hear the rustling of dresses in my mom's hand as she waits for me to finish and step out.

   "You need any help?"

   The dress is the perfect fit, lifting my hopes that this is the very dress for me.

   "Nope."

   Adjusting myself to where I'm satisfied, I take a quick breath, staring at myself in the mirror. I haven't been able to wipe the smile off my face since seeing it. Now that it's on me, my face hurts due to how wide my smile stretches.

   "Are you done?" My mom asks.

   Doing a little twirl, loving how the gown flows dramatically out yet with poise and control, I pull aside the curtain and slowly step out.

   My mom is standing in front of the full-length mirror, her arms overflowing with pink dresses. The moment I'm fully out, I watch and wait for her response. As much as I'm determined to leave here today with this gown, I don't know if I could do it in good conscious without my mom's approval.

   She looks and me, glancing me up and down. I even do a little twirl to show how flowy it is.

   "Isn't it beyond words?" I say, breathlessly. "I love it. I mean really love it. I know we always go with pink, but this- this is, you have to admit, the best of the best. I've never felt more comfortable in anything in my entire life."

    I've always wanted to feel and look like a princess, a Disney Princess (especially Aurora), but wearing this makes me feel like a queen. I feel like I have an identity of my own in this like if I were Disney royalty this would be my trademark dress.

    My mom hasn't said anything on it, so I break my gaze from the mirror and look at her, giving a hopefully, yet anxious smile.

   "So...what do you think?"

   A hand flutters to her mouth, frozen there for a moment before the dresses on her hands slide onto the floor and I become alarmed at the tears trickling down her cheeks.

   "Are you alright, mom?" Worry spiking my voice.

   My panic is short-lived when she finally removes the hand from her mouth and smiles brightly, tears still brimming in her eyes.

   "You look more beautiful than I ever could have imagined you."

   I let out a relived sigh and smile that nothing's wrong, but hate being cried over even if it is a stunning dress.

   She approaches me, not wanting to touch me as if I were some exorbitant china doll.

   "Turn around," She says, so I do.

   I hear her breath hitch and look back at her, watching the waterworks flow. Finally, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

   "Aw, mom. It's just a dress- no tears needed. Plus there are no tissues here."

   "I know," She chuckles tearfully, pulling back and reaching into her purse for a tissue to wipe her face. "But you look so mature, so perfect- you look so perfect, and you're growing up and it just hit me really hard-"

   She dissolves into more tears, dabbing to catch them all. I hug her tightly again, reassuring her.

   "I'm not too grown. I'll still be here. I love you, mom."

   She kisses my forehead, "Love you too, sweetie."

   "So, I'm guessing we're in agreeance about this dress?"

   "Of course. Now don't let me water it before we buy it. Take it off and I'll wait for you by the register."

   I beam, joy filling me completely at the thought of getting this gown.

   I change out of it, handling it like a fragile, rare artifact then meet my mom by the cash register to check out.

   Upon hearing the price, it's a little more than I thought reasonable just for a one day rent, but I figure it out pretty quick that we're not merely renting it.

   "You're buying it?" I ask her dubiously as she handed over the cash.

   She gives me a look, "Of course. I cry over a dress and you think I'm only going to rent it for you?"

   My face is sore from smiling so much and I wrap her in another tight, enthusiastic hug as the girl bags the dress and hands it over.

   I can't stop my excessive thanks to my mom even as we head out the store to the car. We stop to get some snowballs and pick up dinner before heading home, our conversations constant enough to have no need of music while we drive home.

   As we draw closer to home, my mom asks me why I ventured over to the blue side. Shrugging, I smile.

   "I dunno. I guess it's like in Sleeping Beauty where the dress would either be blue or pink. I guess it ended up being blue."

   This amuses my mom and we give a little chuckle to the thought, but deep down, gnawing away at me, I know the truth- the truth I want so desperately to believe is a lie.

   The blues that caught my attention drew me to them because the rich colors of cerulean and lapis reminded me of Xalale; they were the closest way to describe his eyes, yet the true exact hue of blue they are remains an intriguing mystery to me.