The rest of the day is spent almost acting like spies, sneaking around so my parents don't spot us together. It's fairly easy to avoid them if we know where they are, but it's losing them that's the heart stopper. I'm worn out by dodging them- though there is some strange thrill of excitement in doing so. Eventually, we go to hide out the rest of the day in the Methodist church. A strange place to hide out, but somewhere no one would suspect us of being.

   Being there, I take the time to show Xalale the decorations and the overall architectural design of the church. Even though I would hate to be in a service with the members here, it would make it a bit more tolerable if this was where I was worshipping. As a little kid, this building of European inspired design amazed me due to its details and just the huge grandeur of it. It's partially the reason behind my wanting to go to Europe. The cathedrals there are ten times more splendid in architecture and scale. Cauldron's a good starter, but it's nothing like the real deal churches in Europe.

    There're only a few people in the place, mostly observing the decorations, so they pay us little to no mind as we stroll the building, eventually ending up sitting in one of the pews.

   "The bell tolls every hour, you know."

   "Hm."

   I flip through the pages of a hymn book then place it back down.

   "You know, there's always a dance at the end of the festival. It's tonight, under the stars. It's real nice."

   "Really?" He's only half-heartedly invested in what I'm saying. He's too busy studying the church with a scrutinizing eye.

   "Yeah. They have a live bluegrass band- at least I think it's bluegrass, it could be folk."

   Not even listening anymore, he's in deep concentration over a statue of one of the saints in the corner.

   I sigh, looking at him, "My name spelled backward is the equivalent of fish playing poker in Vegas."

   "Hm."

   "Hello," I tap his shoulder, getting his attention at last. Now that I have it, I know I better get to the chase. "I want you to come with me to the dance tonight under the stars."

   The baffled look on his face makes me think he's not getting it like I'm speaking a different language or something.

   "Did I stutter?"

   The look wipes off his face into an impassive one that I'm used to.

   "So?"

   "If you truly want me to."

   "I'm not dragging you to a funeral. It'll be-"

   "Fun." He cuts me to the chase. "I will accompany you."

   "Awesome. Thinking about it, you'll probably need something formal. I'm sure my dad has something in his closet from his younger years."

   I'm actually really excited now. Usually I'm eager for the dance, but never this much. I got a new, stunning dress and Xalale is coming with. I wonder how good he is dancing. "Probably pretty good, but will never show it." That's the probable answer.

   Knowing the preparations to be done for this dance, I know we should probably return to the trailer to start to get ready, especially before my parents get home.

   "I'd hate to take your attention away from the architecture," I begin. "But we should probably head back to get ready."

   He glances briefly at me, not stirring for a moment, then finally gets up. I'm not sure why this place intrigues him so, but it clearly does. I don't bring that up with him, though. We instead silently slip out of the church.

I told my parents I was heading home to take a shower and such before the dance. They waved me off, telling me they'd be home soon to help me get ready.

   As we're leaving, I can tell the town is switching over to its night time decor; a calmer, romantic tone to the atmosphere.

   The moment we arrive back at the house, I know we're working on a tight schedule. Immediately, I head into my parents' room, rummaging deep in my dad's closet to locate a nice formal attire. My dad never parts with any of his older clothes, simply out of nostalgic memories even though he can't fit them anymore- it drives my mom crazy, all the boxes of useless clothing he keeps around. It's a godsend to me now.

   While I'm searching, Xalale is in the bathroom taking a shower and doing what he needs to do. I'm crossing my fingers, hoping, my dad has a suit that will match the dress that I have. I know it's kind of petty, but I want to match. My dress is so beautiful, I can't imagining taking Xalale and not matching with what he's wearing (we didn't need to look out of place any more than we already were).

    The Lord is smiling upon me because I pull out a sharp looking suit that's a dark navy, not too far off from the color of my dress.

   "A simple black tie should suffice, pair that with a pale blue dress shirt and... perfect." I give myself a pat on the back for putting together something classy without any help. Makes me think, just for a millisecond, that I could be a fashion designer- just for the briefest second.

   I lay out the clothes for him then pull out my dress- like its made from porcelain- bringing it to my parents' room to lay on their bed, before finally knocking on the bathroom door. The water stopped running about a minute or so ago, so I'm sure he's finished. Knocking lightly, I ask if he's done. He tells me he is, but I remember something.

   "You need to shave."

   "What?"

   Leaning closer to the door so he can hear me through it better- though it's as thin as paper anyway- I continue.

   "There's a fresh razor in the cabinet."

   "I'm uncertain of what you're talking about." He replies flatly.

   Sighing, I run my hands through my hair and think. He most likely only ever shaved dry with a knife, a razor and shaving cream are foreign things to him. Before I can tell him directions, the door opens just slightly.

   "If you could get me something to wear for the meanwhile then come help me, that would nice."

   Sighing mentally, I know we have no time to waste, so I march to my room, grab a pair of boxers, then return to the bathroom, handing them over. Once he's put them on, I can come in and pull out a fresh razor and the shaving cream.

   "Why must I do this?" He says sounding exasperated.

   "Quit crying, it'll take like two minutes."

   Although Xalale's facial hair doesn't grow as fast as my dad's or Ruthford's might, I can tell by his stubble he hasn't shaved in a while, and like before, I just want everything to be clean cut.

   Turning on the water, I hand him his tools.

   "Use the shaving cream for your face, then use the razor like a knife. Wash off the razor after each slide. Wash your face completely when you're done. Literally four steps, but call me if you need help."

    I turn on my heels then exit the bathroom so he can do his thing. I still need to get myself in order. I have faith he can figure it out.

   Since we just brought the dress, I really have no accessories to go with it, aside from a pair of silver drop dangling earrings that my mom owns. It'd be nice if my mom was here now to help me decide how my hair should be styled.

   I decide to look up some nice styles for my hair just to shoot the time. I find a really pretty braided chignon style that would be stunning in my hair- I could get my mom to do so it won't turn out to be a disaster. My hopes are deflated, though, once realizing that I have a red, bright pimple on full display to the world on my shoulder. What that tells me is an updo hairstyle is not available for me tonight. Instead, I find a nice, easy to do hairstyle that won't cause my mom too much grief to do. My meaningful search ends up becoming me watching pointless viral videos until I see Xalale standing in the doorway.

    "Thank God. You're finally out." I grab my towel from off my dresser, pausing to point to the suit on my bed. "There are your clothes. I'll be back."

    I breeze out of the room, certain that my parents are already making their way back and we're not even close to done- well, at least me. So I take my shower cool and brisk, washing my hair while I'm in there then giving it a quick blow dry once I get out. I swear I broke a record for myself: the fast time I've been in and out of the shower in my life. Unfortunately, my blow dryer sucks so I have to accept that my hair will dry out by itself.

   Returning to my room, I wear something just to cover up, not ready to change into my dress without my mom present.

   I just walk into my room, forgetting about knocking until Xalale speaks up, bringing me back in the moment.

   "I understand this is your home, but letting me know when you're coming in would be nice." He mutters, annoyed.

    "Oh, sorry-" Thankfully he's dressed and I can't help but be impressed. "You look very striking."

   That's clearly not a common compliment in Edalirwen for he gives me a baffled look, so I phrase it another way.

   "Very attra-" I fumble, like a moron, over my words, trying to take it back. I didn't mean to start blushing like an idiot with no self-control, but it seems I'm allergic to using that word especially when describing Xalale.

   I can't even look him in the eyes as I fight to find a new word that doesn't make my face heat up.

   "You look nice..." I wish I would have just kept my damn mouth closed in the first place, but he did look handsome.

   Thankfully, he doesn't comment on my floundering, not even his voice portraying what he's probably thinking of me at the moment.

   "Thank you."

   While I'm trying to heal my wounded ego, I miss what he said to me, causing him to have to repeat himself.

   "What am I supposed to do with this?" He holds up the tie and I just stare at him for a second like he's speaking another language or something. My confused face must register loud and clear to him.

   It hits me then that ties are yet another foreign concept to him so, of course, he wouldn't know how to tie one. It seems weird that a man doesn't know how to tie a tie. I know it might sound stupid, but I thought guys just came into the world knowing how to tie ties. Then again, girls don't come out knowing how to put on bras, so I can't be unfair about this.

   Taking the tie, I hold it up, starting to realize that I don't think I know how to tie a tie either. Xalale senses this.

   "You give it to me yet you don't know how to use it." He says, making it sound like I'm an idiot.

   "No," I shoot back. "I know how to use it, I just- I don't know how to tie it."

    "And why would I?" My dad taught me once or twice when I was younger, but knowing how my memory is it might as well have never been. My mom knows how to tie one, but why would she need it? She doesn't tie my dad's ties for him, he does it himself. He doesn't even wear them that often either, so I'm stumped.

   "To the Internet." I jump on my computer quickly, pulling up some directions on how to tie a tie. Literally, the moment I see the first page of search results, my mind is hurting. "Wait? There are different types of tie tying?" Nevertheless, I click the top search result, but even with the picture diagram, I feel like I'm reading instructions on how to assemble a rocket.

    Not wanting to seem like an idiot again, I look away from the screen and put on a matter-of-fact attitude.

    "This'll be easy."

    He gives a slight skeptic look as if he can see right through my confident demeanor. Ignoring him, I get to work. It's odd tying a tie around someone's neck- or tying a tie on someone period- but it's a challenge when you don't know how to do it. I got like the first three steps, then the pictures lost me. Xalale, being ever so observant, notices me floundering and stops me.

    "Do you need help?" There's a bit of a taunt to his voice, but I might just be imaging it.

    As stubborn as I want to be, we're running low on time and I'm awful at this, so finally, with a reluctant sigh, I give up, letting him try to figure it out along with the pictures. Just as he's starting, I hear the front storm door open and swing close, my mom's voice following after.

    "Mallory?"

    "I'll be right out." My voice sounds casual enough, but inside I'm nervous.

    My parents are home and who's to say they won't accidentally come into my room for something and discover my secret? I try calming myself down with the fact that they haven't peeked around in my room at all- at least that I know of- over the past few days, so why would today be any different?

     I know I better go out there before my mom comes looking for me, so I tell Xalale I'll be back, though he's focusing on getting that tie right that he barely notes my absent, and head to the family room where my mom waits for me.

   "Have you taken a shower yet?" She asks, already teeming to get into action. I think she enjoys these types of things, I just never have enough opportunities for her to do so.

   "Yeah."

   "Good."

   "I already pulled out the dress. It's on your bed."

   "Wonderful. Let's get you dressed before we do your hair and makeup."

   It might not even be the dress-up part of it, but the bonding time she gets to share with me when we do these things. I enjoy them myself, I feel like we haven't been spending enough time together.

   We head into her room where she helps me change into my gown which looks as stunning on me as it did when we brought it; it makes me happy just being in it. I told her what styles I was looking at online and how I had to wear my hair long tonight due to my unwanted attention grabber on my shoulder. Even though I told her what style I wanted my hair in, she's acting like she didn't hear a word I spoke, instead, pulling out the dreaded curling iron. I haven't used that thing in my hair since the 4th grade, and there's good reason why.

    I make a face at her, "Why are you getting that? We don't need it."

   "I know, I know, but just give me a chance to do something."

   Glancing at the bedside table clock, I know if she messes up, there won't be much time to correct it properly. Still, she's never failed me before in fashion, why start doubting now.

   "Alright." I grimace.

   As she goes to work on my mane of hair, we, of course, have to start up a conversation. She starts it off, though, in a very knowing voice.

   "I know it's going to be tough, but don't go kissing any boys or running off with them. You're the only child I got and your father would have a heart attack."

   I brush off her lighthearted teasing with a shudder.

   "Kissing any boys? In Cauldron? Please. You'd have to pay me and give me a trip around the world before I would even consider kissing anyone here."

   She chuckles softly, working through my hair.

   "Not even that mysterious stranger I hope not."

   "Two kisses too late for that one."

   I roll my eyes, shaking my head, not too much though.

   "I'm just there to have a good time."

   "And I hope you do, sweetie. You know," Her voice shifts to that motherly tone she loves to use whenever an emotional moment for her comes. "I'm glad I have you as a daughter. I know it's out of the blue, but I don't say it enough."

    A comment like that would always touch my heart, but it stirs my soul as I think about others like Ruthford and Xalale, who don't know that feeling of having a mother that sticks by through thick or thin. I even think of people like Clifford, surprisingly even Shaykh, who don't have both parents. Or Elle and Coxen who don't have either of their parents. At that point, my mom's simple appreciative message nearly moved me to tears; I have to blink back a few times and inconspicuously clear my throat before replying.

   "Thanks mom. I'm glad to have you and dad as parents." Blessed even.

   My mom's not as skilled in hiding when her emotions spill over. I simply turn around and give her a hug, making care not to burn myself on the still hot curling iron.

   We hug briefly before she wipes the stray tears from her eyes and promptly gets back to business fixing me up.

    Just thinking on it, I don't believe I've ever said I was thankful for someone in my entire life, especially never to my parents. I guess looking up around at what others have or, rather, don't have certainly does change your perspective.

"Almost done?" I ask, keeping my eyes close. The soft tip of the makeup brush presses lightly against my eyelids. "Not too much."

   "I know, I know. So impatient."

   Sighing, I'm praying whatever she's doing won't end up a disaster. Her ideas are always creative and well put together, but orchestrating it on me is a whole other story. Stuff doesn't come out the way it should on me.

   "Not too much, okay?"

   "Okay, Mal. Relax your face."

   I sigh again. She had to fight me about putting makeup on. I was fine just getting my hair done, but she wanted to go the extra mile and pull out the blush and the foundation and all the jazz. We eventually came to a compromise. I would allow her to do my makeup but blush, eyeliner, and lipgloss were off limits.

   I haven't got to see my hair since my mom wants to make a big reveal once she's all finished so I'm antsy to see that, along with how my face will look after she's done with that.

   After what seems like an eternity, there's no more poking with various tools and I open my eyes, but I'm met with disapproval from my mom.

   "No, no, no. Keep them close."

   "Ugh, when can I open them." I gripe, closing them once more.

    She has a smile in her voice, "Just keep them close until I tell you otherwise."

    Her warm hand takes mine and gently guides me. We don't walk far before we stop in front, I assume, to be the full, wide length mirror in the room.

    "Okay, you're allowed to open them."

    When I at last get to open my eyes, I take a step back, surprised at my reflection. Stunned into silence momentarily, all I can do is step closer, inspecting myself, peering into the glass like a child staring wide-eyed into a pond. When I do speak, all I can get out is an "Oh."

   My mom stands to the side, a contained, pleased smile on her face, entertained at my reaction.

   I cautiously touch my hair, wavy yet with a curl to it; it felt so soft. The style my mom did would keep my hair out of my face so it wouldn't annoy me. The most amazing aspect to me is my mom's makeup skills, so keen they can make even me- who when wearing makeup looks weird- look naturally flawless. Even the thing I hate the most, lipstick, makes my lips look healthy pink. The dress is the bow on top, casting me in a regal look, what my goal has been since I was three.

   "I don't look like a reject princess." Is the first comment I make on my appearance. This causes my mom to chuckle lightly at me as I now turn to inspect myself from the back side. "I can't believe this. I look amazing."

   "You look beautiful."

   "Yeah." I breathe awe-struck. I glance at her giving a sheepish smile. "I should have trusted you from the getgo. Thank you, mom."

   "Of course. Let me go fetch the camera before you leave. Go show your father."

   As she hurries out the room, I spend a few more seconds inspecting myself in the mirror, giving a little twirl with the skirt of my gown flowing around me.

   "I didn't even know it was possible for me to look this good."

   I hear my mom call me from the family room, so I go out where my dad is blown away and my mom proceeds to take a thousand and one photos of me. My dad offers to drive me into town so I don't have to walk all the way in heels, but I decline.

   "You sure? Your feet are going to be killing you."

   "I'll survive."

   He lets the matter drop. My mom frets over my hair, brushing it back every two seconds while telling me the curfew.

   "No later than 11, okay?"

   "I'll try."

   My parents pause in between telling me the rules, allowing me time to break away and hurry to my room where Xalale is, reading.

   "Okay, I'm back. Hopefully my parents will stay in the family room so we can leave."

   I can't help looking at myself in the mirror, still blown away. I'm a bit too preoccupied with myself that when I turn around I nearly collide into Xalale. That's when I noticed he did manage to properly tie that tie.

   "Yet another title to add to his ever-growing repertoire of talents." I think to myself.

   "So," I say. "You ready?"

   He's having one of those moments that I've grown so accustomed to, the staring through me like I'm some kind of ghost, though this time it makes me a bit self-conscious.

   "Anything wrong?"

   My voice must've done the trick, bringing him back to reality, where he gives me a look that I have a harder time deciphering, making me even more nervous about myself. I glance back in the mirror, thinking the lipstick smudged or something, but I spot no flaw; still I continue scanning my face until he finally replies.

   "Nothing is wrong."

    I give a peeved face, looking at him from the mirror. "Really?"

   "You look beautiful tonight."

    The annoyance melts from my face and I raise an eyebrow, simply replying with a surprised "Oh". Of course, I remember my manners and thank him for the compliment a few seconds after he says it, better late than never.

   Not wanting to waste another second, I face away from the mirror, slipping on my pumps, praying I don't fall. I can feel Xalale watching me, though I mostly ignore it, brushing it aside. It's only when I nearly fall over trying to put on my other shoe and he catches me does he notice something.

   "Thanks," I say. I notice him frowning at my hand as he holds it. "What's up?"

   He doesn't look up at me. "You're not wearing anything on your hand."

   "Um...should I be? I didn't get accessories, I'm lucky I snagged the dress."

   "It's customary, I know, for a young woman to wear something on her hand when attending a formal event in Edalirwen."

   "Interesting. You see, now I wish I had something to wear on my hand that wouldn't look tacky."

   His expression still isn't revealing what he's thinking, so I'm not sure what he's doing until I see him take something off his finger and slide it on mine. I immediately know, before even looking down at the sapphire color gemstone, what it is. Automatically, like a switch, I protest, already trying to take it off.

   "I couldn't. I'd break it somehow."

   He refuses to take it back though.

   "How are you going to break it?"

   "Believe me, my name means ill-fortunate for a reason. I don't want to be responsible if I lose it or something."

   "I trust you with it."

   I can tell he's serious about this, putting his faith in me that I won't somehow lose the thing he values the most. I don't even trust myself!

   I know arguing about this is a lost cause and looking at it, it does match my attire appropriately. I give in, sliding the ring securely on my finger.

   "There. I will look at my hand every twenty- no, five minutes to make sure it's still there." I reassure him, though I'm really only reassuring myself at this point.

   "Then we are ready to go."

   Giving myself one more glance in the mirror, I nod, ready for a night under the stars.