December
The movie over the weekend was fun, we went to lunch first and goofed around a bit later. I put a few more hours in at work to help out; now that Thanksgiving was over, people were getting serious about entertaining for Hanukkah and Christmas and all the other midwinter traditions as well as New Years. I'd finally started to work with Uncle Steve as well, feeling somewhat more buoyant with the medication and therapy. He was really good about explaining how clothes were constructed, why you needed lining and interlining, construction details like darts, finishing touches like drawn thread work or embroidery, how to use seams to add decorative elements, and some couture touches like the use of chain to weight hems and where this is appropriate. I learned how to customize a pattern to my measurements, what the markings on the patterns represented, and how to correctly sew the garment. When to use machine seams or hand stitching, how best to sew on different types of buttons, make easy buttonholes and the best buttonholes, set in zippers, make frogs, press. It was all very interesting and I had made a shell for under a jacket or blazer, and a blouse with a button front, collar, and cuffs so far. I worked with the ladies in his workshop, too. They were amazing women, and since many were Returnees, the stories they could tell were enthralling. They shared their skills, such as I could pick up; the level of their work was honed by decades of practice. We planned for me to make a couple of skirts, a dress, a pair of slacks, and a suit coat, and one of the women volunteered to help me make a pair of gloves for the experience of it and to learn how to sew leather. I personally didn't see much of a need for that, not when you could purchase good gloves for a reasonable price, but it did sound interesting. But first: finals.
Finals at HKHS were more relaxed affairs than at the prep school. They still covered the entire semester's worth of knowledge, still accounted for a quarter of the grade, but nobody except students who needed the final to kick them out of an F or D really got that worried about it. Every teacher did one hour sessions before school and one after every week so that if you needed help, you had ample opportunities to get it, plus there was math lab and a writing center where you could get somebody to proofread your work and help you with grammar and structure. It seemed like an institutional cultural approach, and was one I heartily approved of. The much lower stress level was really pleasant. I went to the museum for lunch on Wednesday, we had an hour lunch, and this time Mom had brought in a picnic basket full of delicious treats. No food poisoning, vomiting, or tears this time around, bonus. The low key approach was good, because Imogen was starting to see trouble in her foster family. Something had happened between the parents over the Thanksgiving break and there was a lot of tension.
"Even Ron" her foster brother "doesn't know what happened, and he knows everything," she said over lunch. "But it's something significant. My foster parents are barely speaking, and Charles" her foster father "sleeps out on the couch."
"You told your caseworker, right?" Ari asked, picking at his salad. She nodded.
"They're keeping an eye out, but it's just uncomfortable right now."
"Now might be a good time to check DNA for your bio dad," Jinx said. Imogen shook her head.
"Finding out that you have an illegitimate daughter just in time for the big religious festivals?" she said. "Nobody needs that. Plus, the foster parents are apparently going to see a marriage counselor this week."
I felt vaguely guilty after that, going home each day to my family.
But after finals, I finished my presents and we met for a celebratory Christmas lunch. Not everybody was a Christian, but 'Christmas' had become kind of a catch-all phrase for all the religions who had a midwinter celebration. There was a big fad for retro fabric covers for tablets, either quilted or just a single layer of fabric covering the forms. And naturally, with a fabric-related trend, we carried the supplies at work, so I got the feather-weight plastic forms with the magnetic closures, the special adhesive, and fashion fabric for the exteriors. Uncle Steve told me that a lining fabric was key to making it high end, because it smoothed out imperfections in the plastic form and let the fashion fabric lay smoothly, with minimal wrinkling when the covers' hinges were folded back and open. We sold squares of about half the fabrics in the store, so buyers didn't have to get the minimum purchase of half a yard. That way the buyer wasn't stuck with a lot of fabric they probably weren't ever going to use. I found everybody's favorite colors and used different weights and textures that I thought everybody would like. I was nervous, because the last time I'd gone an extra distance was for my old friends' birthday gifts, who hadn't reciprocated, and I'd come around to thinking that while they just weren't very good friends to begin with, maybe my presents had been over the top and they hadn't known how to reciprocate. And I didn't want to embarrass my friends by going outside the price range we'd set and them not being able to match. The kits were really affordable, even with some of the fabrics being a little more expensive, and it took about twenty minutes to assemble each one, so even with labor it would be reasonably within the $25 limit. Especially because I am not skilled labor.
"Wow," said Imogen, stroking the blue velvet of her cover (upholstery-grade and guaranteed for 100 000 double rubs, I'd checked.) "This is beautiful, Anna."
"And this is from a kit?" Ari said, already snuggling his tablet into the silk and wool silver and gold striped cover.
"Yeah, we sell them at work. The only thing that's different is that I used a lining. Uncle Steve said that it would make them nicer, and I think you can see the difference." They had at work, too, when I'd brought the one I'd made for myself in. Now lining squares were an optional addition for the kits.
"This is great, Anna," Nix said, smiling at the black tuxedo-stripe of his cover. It had a lovely sheen to it and the stripes had a narrow red pinstripe to the left of each one, just two threads wide, enough to be a nice design element without being distracting.
"I didn't think I wanted a cover," Mark said. His was a white and navy damask. "The ones I liked are about a hundred dollars, hundred fifty and who wants to spend that much on a trend? But I like this, the fabric's more interesting than the ones I've seen."
"I agree," Justine said, beaming at me. Hers was brocade, black with pale pink and white peonies. "This is so elegant."
"It's nice to have a friend who's handy," Jinx said, a rare smile on his face too. His was a warm, very textural brown and copper wool tweed.
"You're welcome," I said, relieved that they'd liked them. "The markup on those things is ridiculous. The basic kit is only seven dollars, eight with the lining, and then the cost of whatever fabric, which is generally a few bucks more. I did spray them to make the fabric water resistant." Ari's cover had been the most expensive, with the fabric bringing the cost to just under fifteen. Mine had been only slightly under that, a silk mix of violet and silver, with Imogen's just a little under that. Everybody else's was around twelve dollars for the whole kit.
"Ok, yeah, that's a ripoff," Mark said, then distributed his presents. I'd already gotten chocolates from Justine, an embossed copper picture frame for one of my photographs from Jinx, a book from Imogen, and movie tickets and a tin of raspberry hard candies from Ari. Mark liked woodworking and had made us all little trinket boxes of mixed woods. Mine was oak and walnut, really pretty, with tiny dovetailed joints. It was impressively good, and it was a treat to receive something custom made from scratch. "Sorry the finish isn't better," Mark apologized to us. "I didn't have quite enough time, so I just did wax. If you want, I can take them back and put a polyurethane coating on, it's more resistant to damage. Beeswax isn't really enough, but I don't know how to make anything better."
I thought I'd check with Alfred before just giving out his furniture recipe but I would definitely ask if he minded me giving it to a friend.
"I prefer the wax," Jinx said. "You can feel the wood, not a plastic layer."
Ari slung his arm around Mark's shoulder for a half-hug. "No, this looks really good to me. It's awesome." We all agreed.
"And if we return them, you'll be messing around endlessly, trying for perfection," Justine said, holding her aspen and redwood box protectively. "We'll never get them back because you'll never think they're good enough." We burst out laughing, even Mark.
Nix's gifts were last, something different for everybody. I got a pair of shears that were exquisitely sharp, perfect for the most delicate fabrics. They ran about $75 at work, and I looked at Nix pointedly. He shrugged. "My dad has some legitimate business contacts," he said. "He was able to get them for me at cost from the manufacturer, which was in budget. Barely. But we never said that taxes had to be included in the cap, right?"
"Always taking things to the limit," Imogen said affectionately.
"They are perfect," I said, admiring them. "Thanks, Nix." He smiled, and we had celebratory dessert.
"So when are you getting the results of the judging for your photography class?" Ari asked me. "How many photos did you enter?"
"I submitted ten, the maximum, I think we all did. The opportunity for the feedback from professionals is really a big deal, and they agreed to provide comments for each picture. They won't be extensive, but just to know what somebody thinks of your work..." Mark nodded in understanding. "They'll be available through the school portal, the pros have a few more days to come in and view everything. Next semester we'll take the comments and use them to improve our work."
"Lys?" I looked over, past Justine, at the familiar voice, and frowned. Jane, Eleanor, Hope, and Molly stood there with shopping bags and lunches, apparently looking around for a table in the covered, climate controlled patio that served as a common eating area for several restaurants at this shopping area.
"Hey," I said after a moment. My friends were looking between us, probably putting things together. They were really perceptive, as a group.
"Your hair looks really pretty," Eleanor said hesitantly, smiling uncertainly.
"Yes, it does," I agreed. Not smiling.
"I heard about your ankle," Jane said. "Sorry. Jake said you had to drop dance."
"Yep," I said.
"Look, Lys, we're sorry about what happened, last spring. It was a mistake to drop you. Nobody brings it up anymore, but you've just vanished," Molly said bluntly.
"If nobody's talking about it, it's because I declined to be bullied anymore and they had to move on. They couldn't get at me through social media anymore or make my life miserable at school. They kind of had to go torment the next unfortunate," I said bitingly.
"That's not fair," Hope protested. "We made a mistake. We know it. We should have stood with you."
"It's really fair," I said. I looked at Eleanor. "I will always know what you are, the type of people you are, to abandon somebody who was vulnerable because you didn't enjoy the little splashback that fell on you." I looked at all of them then. "You're only fair weather friends who are probably missing the things I could provide." Thoughtful presents, daily support, treats like concert tickets and exclusive events. Their families were rich too, but there isn't much that a Wayne can't get if they ask. I wondered why I'd ever felt the need to provide those benefits. Was it that I felt I had to buy their loyalty? Maybe subconsciously. Dr Lance would be thrilled at my insight. "You heard about my ankle but I never heard from you. You could have called, sent a card. You know where I live. But instead, crickets."
"Get a grip, Lys," Jane said impatiently. "Nobody wanted to be made fun of or ignored, and you shouldn't have expected your friends to go down with you. And it was only for a little while, there've been other scandals that supplanted that abortion of a party." She gestured at my friends. "You think that they're any different? They're probably only hanging out with you because you're rich. At least you don't have that with us, we can buy our own things. They have nothing, no connections."
The children of the supervillains looked highly affronted. Then Jinx started to laugh, which set them all off. I grinned too.
"Some people can't be bought with things," I said, chuckling. "The worst that they did was investigate me to find out if I really was Daniel's daughter, and they apologized."
"When your friend is going down, that's when you know who your real friends are," Nix said frostily. "Because they're right with you, supporting you. Or you all go down together."
Justine poked my side. "She's had a little self-confidence issue, which I can totally see why, with frienemies like you. But yeah, you do suck, and you're shallow, self-absorbed, and vain for dropping her over something she couldn't control. She's better off with us." Jane sneered.
"Oh, I supposed she just got those concert tickets in a raffle or something," she said. "They were snapped up in three minutes, and there she is, in a box. You expect me to believe her dad didn't get them for her?"
Ari roared with laughter. "She met Freddie Mercury and Brian May at the store where she works. That mantle he was wearing at the concert? She sold him the fabric and told him where he could find somebody to make it. He was so pleased that he gave her four tickets, invited her backstage after the concert, and made a special point of finding her to thank her again. It had nothing to do with her name and everything to do with the kind of person she is. And we may not deserve her either, but at least we appreciate her." Hope and Molly looked taken aback, but Jane wasn't budging.
"Right, like you expect me to believe that you're not taking advantage of her connections and lifestyle." Her eyes fell on the clutter on the table. " What did she give you, those tablet covers? They sell for a hundred, hundred twenty dollars."
"Most of them have never been out to the house," I said. "One of them has, once. It's more convenient to meet here in the city, which you should agree with, you always complained that the house was too far out, that there was nothing to do out there. They don't need my connections or my 'lifestyle.' And I did those covers myself, so it's nice to know you think they could sell for that much." Imogen leaned forward and gave me a high five over the table. "Face it, Jane, you're greedy and shallow and you don't understand anything else. I'd feel sorry for you, but...." I looked at the other three girls. "Maybe you're different, but stay around Jane and you'll never know. Being dumped by you was, in the long run, one of the best things that could have happened to me. Now I realize how little you offered in friendship and what real friends are. You can go now." My voice had dropped into the freezing range. "Merry Christmas," I said in a tone that meant the opposite. Eleanor turned away and started off, followed by Hope. Jane didn't budge until Molly took her arm and pulled her away.
I looked around the table. "Thanks for sticking up for me."
"It's what friends do," Mark said, shrugging. "Besides, you didn't really need us, you handled them just fine on your own."
"Still," I said. Justine held up her glass.
"To friends." We all clinked rims.