Violetta Craft's Arc

Chapter 35 of 65

Two weeks out from her seventeenth birthday, Violetta sat at the kitchen table with a mug of cold tea and her phone face-up. Greg had texted about the party. He wanted to know what time and whether he should bring anything. She had known Greg since elementary school. Since the split with Jordie, they had been talking — nothing serious, just texts after Elowen went down, a coffee once at the shop near the studio. She had invited him to the party on impulse last week. Now the day was close, and she needed to decide what Greg was to her before he walked through her mother's door. Her mother came in with a folded stack of Elowen's sleepers and set them on the table. Lymber looked at the phone, then at Violetta. "You've been staring at that for twenty minutes." Violetta said Greg had asked about the party. Lymber sat down across from her. She said Violetta did not owe him a category yet. She said friend was a real answer if that was the real answer. Violetta turned the mug in her hands. She said she liked him. She said she also did not want to hand anyone anything until she knew Elowen was steady and the senior dress was cut. Lymber nodded once. "Then tell him that. He's known you a long time. He'll hear it." Violetta went down the hall to the office. The purple silk-wool blend hung on the form. She had pinned the shoulder line the night before and left the pins in to think about. She sat at the machine but did not turn it on. She picked up the phone instead and typed. She told Greg the party started at six. She told him not to bring anything. She told him she wanted him there as a friend, that she was not ready for more, and that she would understand if he wanted to skip. She read it twice and sent it. She set the phone screen-down on the cutting table and pulled the first pin from the shoulder. Three minutes later the phone buzzed. Greg said six worked. He said friend was fine. He said he would be there. Violetta put the phone in the drawer and closed it. She fed the shoulder seam under the needle and ran a slow test line on a scrap first, the way the tailor had taught her. The stitch held even. She moved to the real fabric and started the seam. Elowen slept in the next room. Her mother passed the doorway and did not stop. The dress had a shoulder now, and Violetta had told the truth out loud, and the birthday was still two weeks away. She had bought herself the afternoon again, and this time she had bought it clean.