Free Fated by Sarah Alderson

box and tissue paper cascaded over the sides. Evie rummaged through it, her hands sinking into watery silks. She drew out a long, pale grey evening dress, with a full tulle underskirt, and held it up.
    'Oh, just the thing for all the balls we've got happening around here,' she commented with a sarcastic glance in Victor's direction. Then she flicked over the price tag. 'This has got a three-thousand-dollar price tag!'
    She looked up at Victor in astonishment. That was almost twice as much money as she had earned the entire summer working two jobs. She dropped the dress and rifled through the box, pulling out another one - this time a knee-length, blue silk cocktail number. The price tag had just as many zeros as the first one. 'No one in this town can afford to buy this stuff,' she said, looking up at Victor.
    Victor was watching her from his vantage point on the red velvet chair, one leg resting on the other knee. 'Exactly,' he said. 'That's the point.' When she continued to look at him dumb-founded, he explained. 'No one will come in to bother us while we're training.'
    'Except Mrs Lovell,' Evie said, her attention drawn to the mirror at the back of the shop and its reflection of the street.
    'Mrs Lovell?' Victor asked, confused.
    The doorbell dinged. Evie leapt up from her tissue paper mound and greeted her mother's oldest friend. 'Mrs Lovell! Good morning.'
    She gestured with her hand at Victor who was still reclining on the chair, eyeing Mrs Lovell's polyester jumper and shin-length skirt. 'This is Victor Lassonde.' She enunciated the Lassonde, making it sound as French as she could.
    Victor raised himself, putting down his copy of Vogue and reaching out his hand. Mrs Lovell stared at it like it was a wild animal, one she wasn't sure she should pet, before taking it briefly and giving it a meagre shake. She stared at her surroundings, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening at the red and black velvet decor and at Victor's beaming white smile amid it all.
    'Feel free to browse,' Victor said, spreading his arms wide. 'We're still unpacking, I'm afraid. If you need any help, just give Evie a shout.'
    Mrs Lovell murmured her thanks and started flicking through the three yellow dresses hanging up. She glanced over her shoulder at Evie and beckoned her with a motion of her head.
    'Is this a size 00?' she asked in a stage whisper.
    Evie looked at the tag she was holding up. 'That's the price tag not the size,' she said. 'But it's a 2 if you're interested.'
    Mrs Lovell looked at her over the top of her spectacles. 'Do I look like a size 2, Evie Tremain? And do I look like I am going to spend thousands of dollars on a scrap of material no bigger than a tea towel?'
    Evie bit her tongue, wondering what she was supposed to say that wouldn't get her fired. 'It's Marc Jacobs,' she offered with a small shrug, 'and that colour would really complement your hair,' she added as an afterthought, looking in Victor's direction. He glanced up at her over the top of his magazine and gave her a look she couldn't read.
    'Nice try, Evie. I may not know much about fashion but I do know that custard yellow is not that flattering to red hair,' Mrs Lovell answered. 'You just wait until I tell the knitting circle about this.' She lowered her voice once more. 'You'd best not give notice on your other jobs.' A pause. 'Does Joe know you're working here?'
    'Not yet,' Evie answered.
    Mrs Lovell drew closer. 'Well, you hold on to that job; this one isn't about to last.'
    She left, muttering as she went about people with too much money and not enough sense, and Evie went back to unpacking and hanging clothes, getting more and more irritated as she did so. Victor steadfastly refused to answer any questions about anything other than what dresses went on which rack so eventually she gave up trying to find out about her parents and the other Hunters and when she'd learn how to fight as opposed to how to hang strapless dresses. She focused instead on trying