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Alyssa said I could forage in her closet for something to wear tonight, but I’m too in love with my new dress to bother. I slip it on over my head and slide my feet in to my new shoes. I’m not very good at doing my hair, so I simply pull back two tendrils from each side of my face and secure them at the back of my head with a few bobby pins. A bit of make-up and I’m set. I take a look at myself in the mirror and nod with satisfaction. I never get dressed up and I barely ever wear more than mascara. What’s the point when no one is really looking? But I think I look good. Better than usual anyways.
    I walk out in the living room and here the trill of my phone’s message alert. There’s a text from Alyssa:
    Running late. Meet you at LIMA for seven.
    I drop my phone into my bag and sit down on the couch. It’s just past six now. I wait half an hour, then traipse downstairs. Tom, the doorman from last Saturday is there.
    “Ah Sydney!” Tom smiles. “Don’t you look like a picture!”
    “Thanks. Can you call me a cab?”
    “Sure thing.”
    While I’m waiting, Tom asks me how I’ve enjoyed my week in the city and seems quite pleased and prideful when I tell him I had fun in his hometown. My cab arrives and Tom holds the door open as I slip inside, careful not to let my dress bunch up beneath me. Yes I do pay attention when my mother lectures on the rules of beauty...sometimes.
    It takes a little over twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. I pay the driver then carefully scrutinize the sidewalk, looking for Alyssa. I try calling her cell, but there’s no answer. The windows to the place are all blocked by curtains, there’s no way to tell if she’s here already without going inside. The lobby is crowded; I have to push and shove to get to the hostesses podium in the front corner of the room. A model-pretty girl with sleek blonde hair and sharp-as- glass cheekbones is staring with boredom at the swarm of people before her. When a guy in a dark blue suit with a smarmy smile steps aside I swoop in.
    “Um hi. My sister made a reservation, um Alyssa Kane for two I think?”
    The girl clicks around on the computer monitor. “Uh huh,” she nods. “Is the rest of your party here?”
    “Um, I guess not.”
    “Right. Well why don’t you go sit in the lounge and when she gets here let us know. Okay?” She nods to her left and produces an insincere smile.
    I step aside and follow the line of her chin toward an archway leading to a large room filled with people. The air is thick with laughter and talk, every chair seems to be filled with gloriously decorated people – men in tailored suits, women in gorgeous sheaths. I can’t see anywhere to sit, so I resign myself to lean up against the wall and I train my eye on the arch – waiting for Alyssa to appear.
    After about ten minutes my feet are starting to ache in my new shoes and there’s still no sign of her. I spot a handful of people slip off their stools at the bar and make their way back into the restaurant. Desperate to get off my feet, I dart across the room and snag one of the stools before anyone can steal it from me.
    I hate sitting on stools, and wish the people who left had been seated on one of those squishy leather chairs in the corner. I find myself trying, and pretty much failing, to balance on my tall perch without falling off. I finally find a position that doesn’t send me careening over and force myself to still.
    The bartender’s gaze sweeps over me and I feel a squeeze of trepidation in my belly. Am I even allowed to be in here? Can he tell I’m only sixteen? Is he going to kick me out? He slips over to me and raises his eyebrows. I mentally prepare myself to stutter through some sort of excuse as to why I’m sitting at his bar. I clench my fists and wait for him to speak, but before he can utter a syllable, a woman on my left beckons his attention and he turns away.
    Starting to get downright pissed with Alyssa for sending me here alone,