Vincent and Vivian's public statement to go as Winter Formal dates only seemed to intensify their popularity. Vincent gets dragged off by Vivian during lunch to go sit with her friends. I knew better than to go to the cafeteria for lunch after what I witnessed Monday. Vivian showing off Vincent by her side probably wasn't going to help me wash down my lunch. I hide out in the library instead for the rest of the week. It was too snowy outside for me to sit out there. Though, I was tempted to.

On Tuesday, I just walked into the library and slept openly at one of the tables. The librarian woke up and up and told me that I had to be doing homework or school work of some sort. She didn't sound so happy, so I reluctantly pulled out some math homework. The following days, I would sit in a far seat in a corner facing her, prop up a huge textbook, and nod off behind it. After a couple of days, I got into the habit of flipping the pages while half asleep, so the librarian won't get suspicious of me. It was uncomfortable to have to hold up a textbook the whole time while I napped though.

Vincent caught onto the fact that I walk home even though he insists to drive me. So, lately, he's been waiting for me outside of my last class at the end of the day. I'm not sure how he gets there before the bell rings. His last period is on the other side of school.

Strangely, Friday afternoon, Vincent drops me off at home without any detours. He told me had to do something important. I question him any further. My thought was that he was probably going to buy clothes for the Winter Formal. That day, I did almost all of my homework. Something in my gut was bothering me, so I tried to drown it out with work and studying. I'll barely have any homework left for the rest of the weekend, making it stress-free. Or, at least it should be that way. My chest feels tight and I can't stop thinking about the Winter Formal tonight.

Wilbur's sitting on my pillow again. I gave him his favorite food, strawberries, but he barely nibbled into it. It's a rare phenomena, as rare as me having having a loss of appetite. I have exactly that right now. My can of whipped cream is still filled after three hours of t.v.

My phone's already flooded with social media updates. Everyone's posting pictures and videos of themselves with their friends and in their dresses. On the other hand, my Saturday has consisted of only laying on my bed with an unresponsive turtle. I don't blame Wilbur though. I'm really boring. However, I'm tempted to try to do things with him, but I feel like I'll end up accidentally killing him. I could unknowingly place him in an oven while I bake cookies, or freeze him to death outside in the snow. We decide to stay in the safety and comfort of my room.

Once it's dark out, Dad and Wren finally come home. They didn't tell me where they were going, but they were being pretty secretive about it. I would've cared, but the bucket of fried chicken they brought with them distracted me. My appetite is back. I go back upstairs to put Wilbur back into his tank, and he's finally munching on his strawberry. I feel guilty that I'm always isolating him in my room, so I take him and his strawberry with me. I set them down onto a paper plate that came with the chicken, and place the plate onto the dinner table. That way, I can make sure Wilbur won't crawl off the edge of the table. Dad and Wren exchange confused looks, and they don't talk about it until a while later.

"Wendy, are you okay?" Dad hesitantly asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, you're acting weird," Wren bluntly says.

"I'm not."

"You brought your turtle to have dinner with us..." Wren points out.

"I always eat with Wilbur."

"Yeah, in your room."

"Well, what if Wilbur's lonely? Doesn't he deserve to sit at the table sometimes? Is it wrong for him to not want to be lonely? Why are you judging him?"

"Well, I'm not judging him... I'm judging you."

"Wren!" Dad scolds. "Wendy, how are things at school? Where are your friends? I don't see them come over anymore."

"They're-they- they're busy," I stutter.

"Liar," Wren mutters.

"Well, maybe you should new friends," Dad suggests.

"No, it's not like that. I'm always tired, so I told them I didn't want to hang out. They asked me all week to go to the mall." Wren eyes me, not willing to digest my lie.

"Alright. You should sleep early today, then," Dad says, relieved from accepting my fib, and takes a bite out of his chicken leg.

"I will." I shove a biscuit in my mouth before Wren can be inclined to ask me anymore questions. I can see Wilbur finish off his strawberry in the corner of my eye. The door bell rings. "I'll get it." I go and take Wilbur with me.

The door swings open to reveal Vincent, unruly clothes and hair, with a black box tied by a silvery ribbon. It must be a gift for Vivian. But don't people usually give corsages? Or is that for only prom?

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I need help with my tie."

"I see." A black tie is slung over his shoulder.

"Who is it?" Dad calls from the kitchen.

"Vincent!" I holler back. "He needs help with something, so I'll be back in a few minutes." I turn back to Vincent. "Not to be rude, but you look a mess."

Vincent shrugs. "I don't know. I wasn't really trying to look nice. It's just a boring dance," he sighs bitterly.

"Come on," I drag him upstairs, in a sudden rush of excitement. Why do I feel so relieved to see him?

He sits on my bed and I hand Wilbur to him. Immediately, Vincent starts to pet Wilbur while Wilbur falls asleep with his head against Vincent's palm. Vincent watches me in confusion as I shuffle through my closest. After a while, I manage to yank out a large shirt in men's size, which I bought since it was on sale for a dollar. I toss it onto the bed, next to Vincent.

"Change into this," I instruct.

Vincent seems confused, but agrees, "Whatever you say." Without hesitation, he starts to unbutton his white shirt.

"Wait!" I yell, covering my eyes with my hands. "Wait until I'm out of the room!"

"What? It's not like you haven't seen me shirtless before." There's still the shuffling of his shirt. He's not stopping? Jeez.

"Still-but-well- it's just weird to take off your shirt in front of me, okay?" I argue.

"Whatever, I'm done changing." When I look, Vincent still hasn't pulled the shirt all the way down, his stomach still exposed.

"I'll be right back." I dart out of the room in search of Dad's ironing board and iron. I manage to find it tucked behind his closest door and take both of them to my room. By the time I return, Vincent is carefully placing Wilbur, who seemed to have slipped into a food coma, back into his tank.

I prop the ironing board on the ground an plug the iron in, sitting it on the side so it wouldn't burn the board.

"You couldn't even bother to iron your shirt?"

"Well, I'm not really trying to look nice," Vincent replies.

"Why? Cause you're already handsome?" I laugh.

"No, cause I don't really want to go to this stupid dance... Do you think I'm handsome?" A mischievous smirk grows on his face.

"N-n-no! I was joking."

"Ouch. So, I'm ugly?"

"Well...no." My face probably looks like I got slapped by the iron.

"I'm just teasing you."

"Anyways, you have a nice date and your friends are going to be there. There shouldn't be a reason for you not be excited." The iron's now hot enough, so I start to iron out his shirt and tie. Vincent's pants are also crinkled, but I wasn't going to make the same mistake of asking him to change out of them.

"You're not going... That's why."

"I'll be a party pooper. Plus, I'll be glued to the refreshments table the entire time."

"It will be fun."

"Fun? As in being crammed into a room with a bunch of strangers I don't know?"

"They're your classmates. How are they strangers?"

"I literally talk to no one."

"That's impossible. What do you do during class then?"

"Listen to the teacher. Work. Do school stuff."

"What if you're bored and done with everything?"

"I do other homework. Or, I stare at the wall. Maybe sleep with my eyes open."

"I'll be there. I wouldn't be a stranger. Plus, your friends would be too."

Huh. Friends...

"What? And third wheel your date? No thanks."

"You can be my date."

"Don't be ridiculous, Vincent." I hand him the pressed shirt and tie.

"Fine. I'll get you a date."

"Really?" I asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'll ask Carson. He'll just stand there with you. If he tries to dance with you, reject him."

"Carson has a girlfriend."

"Since when?"

"Since two weeks ago. Jeez, do you not talk to your friends anymore?"

"Well, sort of. Kinda. How do you know anyways?"

"I don't know. Maybe cause he asked her out in the middle of math class."

"Well, then..." Vincent is in deep thought.

"I'm not going, Vincent. Besides, I don't have a dress." I fold the ironing board up and lean it against my closet door.

"Problem solved." Vincent drops the black box from earlier into my hands.

"What's this?"

"Open it," Vincent says excitedly.

Vincent peers from above, sitting on the bed, while I sit on my floor with my legs crossed, the box in my lap. I pull slightly at the end of the silvery ribbon, and the bow falls apart. Nervously, I lift the covers of the box to reveal a mound of silky fabric of a rosy cream color. I grab what looks to be the straps and slowly stand up to reveal a floor-length dress. The straps are thin, but detailed with lace patterning. The top is shaped almost like a heart with careful pleats that cross over. Cascades of chiffon rolls off from the belt area that slightly pools at the ground. It's simple, yet so stunning.

"Where did you get this?" I ask breathlessly.

"Do you like it?" Vincent grins.

"It's really gorgeous."

"It's your's."

"This is too pretty to wear. It's probably expensive too. How did you even find this during winter?"

"Don't worry about that. Just put it on so we can go."

I want to. I really do. I want to feel pretty for once. I want to wear such a fancy dress for the first time. I want to be able to walk to the dance with Vincent. I want him to be the first person I dance with. I want to be his date. I badly want to... But I can't.

"The dress is pretty, but I don't think I can go. I just remembered I have homework to do."

"You have all of winter break to do it."

"Wait, winter break already started?"

"Yeah..."

"Oh..."

"Do you not like the dress?"

"No! I love it!" I sink back in embarrassment from my panicked answer, but it was true. It was the prettiest piece of clothing I've seen. For years I've shopped with my friends. Clothes never interested me. This dress was different. I didn't want to let it go.

"Then what's wrong?" Vincent pouts.

"I don't feel comfortable in dresses. Never worn them. Kinda have some weird fear of them."

"Oh..." Vincent seems disapointed, dropping his head.

"Here. This dress was probably really exspensive. You should return it."

"No, you should keep it since you like it." Vincent pushes the hand I'm holding the dress with back.

"But-"

"Once you get over your fear of dresses, this should be the first one you try on," he smiles. I know that smile better that anyone. That's the smile I have on many days. The painted over frown.

"Thanks... It's the prettiest thing I've seen in my entire life," I say in true honestly, but mainly to cheer Vincent up.

"Yeah, I'm looking at the prettiest thing I've seen in my entire life right now too." Our eyes lock, and I don't want to pull away. I want to keep looking at Vincent as much as I want to keep this dress.

"Get changed, or you're going to be late."

I rummage around my desk to find a comb, and by the time I turn around, Vincent is already buttoning up his shirt. He stays sitting on my bed while I stand between his knees. First, I fix his collar and wrap the tie around it, before securing it in a loop. His shuffled hair is changed into dark waves after a few strokes of my comb. Being a novice at fashion myself, I could only manage to make Vincent look more organized and sharp. If it wasn't for the fact that he already looked like a Greek god, my makeover would've made him look like a complete dork. I step back to look at the final product.

"How do I look?" Vincent flashes me a dramatic pose.

"I think I did a pretty good job."

"I'm pretty sure it because of my charms," Vincent jokes.

"Sure," I sarcastically reply. "Hurry up and go."

"Fine," Vincent whines. He stands up and pulls me into a tight hug, shaping my arms to my sides.

"What's wrong?" I asked, surprised by his sudden gesture.

"It's cold out and I forgot a jacket. I need a warm hug for the road."

"You're so wierd."

"Ditto."

Vincent finally retracts and my chest constricts. He followed me downstairs and I hand him a plate piled with chicken and sides for him to take. He waves before leaving through the front door. I turn around to see the stares of my dad and Wren.

"Vincent looks dressed up." Dad says.

"Yeah." I agree.

"What for?" Wren asks.

"The winter formal."

"Why didn't you go?" Dad asks.

"It's too cold in winter for a dress."

They exchange glances with each other before continuing to eat, even though they look like they want to keep asking me questions. I cram another buttermilk biscuit into my mouth and bound for the stairs.

I wash my hands to remove any oil, so I can touch the dress without worrying about ruining it. After taking one last glance of admiration, I drop the dress into the box like a waterfall of ribbons and carefully tie the bow over the box. I tuck it carefully at the corner of a shelf in my closest. Laying back on my bed, I can't pull away my eyes from the box. I want to keep looking at the dress. But I'm scared that I'll never put it away once I see it again. If I see that dress, I'll want to try it on, then I'll want to go to the dance, and then I'll want to dance with Vincent. But that can't happen. Not when Vivian is his date. No matter how bad I want to.