Free Surviving High School by M. Doty

things first, though: She needed an outfit.
    Emily opened her closet and examined the jeans and T-shirt she’d selected earlier. They had seemed like a fine choice when she’d laid them out on her bed an hour ago, but now, next to the image of a party populated by pretty girls with short skirts, immaculate makeup, and magazine-perfect hair, the outfit suddenly seemed uninspired and average.
    She flipped through the other clothes in her closet, mostly identical T-shirts and jeans. Emily frowned, thinking, If a stranger looked through my clothes, she’d think I was a boy.
    Finally, as she reached the far edge of the closet, Emily’s hand brushed against taffeta and lace and, as if selected by fate, the dress fell from its hanger into her arms. As she looked down at the frilly bridesmaid’s dress she was holding, she remembered her cousin Kelly’s wedding last summer, where she’d first worn it. All day after the ceremony, the other guests had commented on how pretty Emily was.
    “You look like an actual girl,” said one aunt who’d had a bit too much to drink.
    Can you wear a bridesmaid’s dress to a party? Emily wondered.Probably. A dress was a dress, right? And she’d looked good in it. Why would her parents have made her keep it if she wasn’t supposed to wear it again? She wished that she could ask her mom what the rules were fashion-wise, but that would entail telling her mom she was going to a party. Not a chance.
    She turned the dress over in the moonlight. The strapless top took attention away from Emily’s broad shoulders, and the flared pink-and-white layered skirt accentuated the slight feminine curves of her otherwise boyish frame. It was the kind of dress a princess would wear to a ball in a Disney movie. And didn’t those girls always get their Prince Charmings?
    She gave the jeans and T-shirt one last glance, then slipped the dress over her head and opened her bedroom window. The cool night air brushed against her exposed collarbone. For the first time in a while she felt good—even, she had to admit, pretty.
    “Nice—dress,” said Kimi, a puzzled expression on her face. “Isn’t it kind of poofy?” She pulled at the pink fabric of Emily’s skirt as the two of them walked down the street and away from the house.
    Emily frowned and said nothing. She quickened her pace and walked a few steps ahead of Kimi.
    “Hey—forget I said anything,” said Kimi. “It’s not like you need fashion advice from someone who dresses like a Realtor , right?” Since Dominique and Lindsay had accusedKimi of looking like a real estate agent on the first day of school, the popular girls had made sure the label stuck, never mind that Kimi hadn’t worn anything remotely similar since that first day. Nonetheless, last week Kimi had arrived to find a fake Century 21 ad taped to her locker with her face Photoshopped in.
    “Sorry,” said Emily, feeling bad. “I didn’t mean to get all passive-aggressive on you. And don’t say that about yourself. You look really cute.”
    “I hope so,” said Kimi. “Who knows what you’re actually supposed to wear. But I say we both look hot. We’re going to own this thing!” She adjusted her bra, which appeared to be more padded than usual, and smiled. Kimi was wearing a vintage-looking halter-top dress with polka dots, and she explained to Emily that she was going for an Asian Zooey Deschanel look.
    As they got to the end of the street, the girls approached a red sports car that was blaring music into the otherwise quiet neighborhood. The car sat low on its axles and had a blazing phoenix detailed on the hood. The windows shook with each drumbeat and bass note blasting from the stereo.
    “Not bad, eh?” asked Kimi. “I got Phil to drive us!”
    A sudden feeling of panic filled Emily’s chest. Was she really riding with Phil to Ben’s party? And in this car?
    “Uh, is something wrong?” Kimi put a hand on Emily’s shoulder.
    “Just—uh—I thought maybe your