Nim waved her hand dismissively. “Someday, Alia, we will have all the places to go and all the clothes to go there in. And don’t worry,” she said to Diana. “The shopping comes to us.”
They gathered around the computer on Alia’s desk—Nim at the keyboard, Alia and Diana huddled behind her—and the next hour was a blur of confusing talk and images flying by on the tiny screen. Nim knew a great deal about textiles and design, and apparently, she’d helped Alia shop this way before. She took Diana’s measurements, all while catching Alia up on how she’d spent the last two weeks, the course she’d just finished at some place called Parsons, and how disgusting the heat in the city had been.
Diana mostly listened and nodded, enjoying their chatter. Nim was a little like Maeve, but her cheer and boldness were somehow more vivid. It reminded Diana of the bright shelves of the drugstore, everything noisy with electric color, even the candy. You dance differently when you know you won’t live forever. Was this what Maeve had meant? There was something reckless in mortal joy that Diana liked. It held nothing back.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Nim said, looking up at Diana suspiciously. She pushed back from the desk in her chair. “You’re not silently seething over something I said, are you?”
Diana startled. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”
Nim shrugged, taking out her phone and sending another text to someone Diana thought she’d called Barney Buyer. “Nothing personal. I just never get along with Alia’s friends. We tend to do better on our own.”
“It’s true,” Alia said thoughtfully, leaning against her bookshelf.
“And we’re delightful!” said Nim. “Even though Alia is a total jinx. If something can go wrong around her, it will. I swear, she’s a drama magnet.”
Alia gestured at the screen. “Focus.” But Diana knew she was thinking about all of those tense moments, those disagreements, those broken opportunities for friendship in a new light.
Diana peered at Nim, whose head was cocked to the side as she sucked thoughtfully on her lower lip and tapped at the screen of her phone. Did Diana feel hostile toward her? She didn’t think so. She’d wondered if her conflict with Jason had been influenced by Alia’s powers, but she and Nim seemed to be getting along just fine. The Oracle had said Alia would not cause her to sicken; maybe her powers had no effect on Diana at all. “Nim, do you and Jason get on well?”
“As well as anyone can get along with that pill.” Nim whirled in her seat and clutched a hand to her chest. “Don’t tell me you’re into him.”
Alia banged her head against her bookshelf. “Can we not?”
Nim fluttered her fingers as if casting a spell. “Girls lose all sense around Jason Keralis.”
“It’s the billionaire factor,” said Alia.
“It’s not just the money: It’s the cheekbones, the icy disposition. I had three kinds of a crush on your brother before I matured enough to realize he’s a total bore.”
“That isn’t a secret, Nim. You used to steal his T-shirts.”
Nim folded her arms, but her brown cheeks pinked. “So?”
“His dirty T-shirts.”
Diana grimaced, but Nim didn’t seem deterred.
“All I’m saying is most guys who are that rich and that young are either awful legacies with ‘the third’ after their names or gross Internet entrepreneurs. Jason’s mad-science angle is hot.”
Alia scoffed. “Could have fooled me.”
“Totally different standard for girls. Guys don’t care if you have a sexy brain.”
Diana recoiled. “You can’t mean that.”
Alia tossed a pillow at Nim. “She doesn’t mean it. Nim, you’re the worst.”
“I’m the best. And I can’t help it if we live beneath the thumb of the patriarchy. Why don’t you go yell at your brother for being a tool and only dating supermodels and socialites?”
“What’s a supermodel?” Diana asked.
Nim stared at her.
“Uh, Diana’s homeschooled,” said Alia.
“Under a rock?” asked Nim.
“Her parents are just super weird. Hippies, kind of. You know, no TV, only public radio.”
Nim took Diana’s hand in both of hers. “I am so deeply sorry.”
Diana raised a brow. “I manage.”
“Do you?” Nim asked with a sincerity so profound Diana couldn’t help laughing. Nim grabbed her other hand, holding Diana’s wrists out. “Wow, cool bracelets. Are these soldered on?”
“Um, yes.”
“I can’t even see a seam. That is some amazing craftsmanship. What are they? It’s got to be an alloy, but—”
“Nim makes jewelry,” Alia explained.
Nim dropped Diana’s hands. “Don’t say I make jewelry. That sounds like I’m someone with a BeDazzler and an Etsy shop. I make art.”
Alia rolled her eyes. “Okay, how about this? Nim is really good with textiles and just about everything else visual, and that’s why I invited her over to berate us.”
“Also I’m great company.”
Alia grinned. “That, too.”
“What makes these models super?” inquired Diana, still curious. “Do they have powers?”
Nim burst out laughing. “I love this girl. Yes, supermodels have the power to make you buy things you don’t need and feel terrible about yourself.”
Could that be true? “You used that word to describe me,” Diana said to Alia. “It doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
Alia hurled herself onto the bed and said, “It is a compliment. Nim just thinks she’s being clever.”
“Speaking of which,” Nim said, consulting her phone. “Marie pulled a bunch of clothes for us. They should be delivered in a couple of hours.” She hopped up on the bed and settled next to Alia. “Prepare for perfection.”
“I don’t need to be perfect,” Alia said. “Just passable.”
Nim held up her pinky. “Bubble, bubble.”
Alia sighed and hooked her pinky into Nim’s. “Make some trouble.” She cast a glance at Diana. “This all probably seems really silly to you, right?”
Diana wasn’t entirely sure what ritual she’d just witnessed, so she said, “The dresses? Attire is important. It sends a message to everyone you meet.”
“Yes!” Nim declared, fists held aloft in victory.
“Nooo,” wailed Alia, burying her head in the pillows. “Now there’s two of you.”
“You said as much in the drugstore,” Diana pointed out, leaning against the desk.
“But there’s a difference between looking respectable and saying, Look at me!”
“Perhaps you should think of it as armor,” suggested Diana. “When a warrior readies herself for battle, she doesn’t just worry about practicality.”
Alia rolled onto her side and propped her head on one hand. “I’d think not dying would be the big concern.”
“Yes, but the goal is also to intimidate. A general wears her rank. The same is true of athletes when they compete.”
“That’s true!” said Nim. “I read that football players play more aggressively when they’re dressed in black and red.”
“Nim loves trivia,” said Alia.
“I love information.”
Diana lifted Nim’s measuring tape from the desk and curled it over one finger. “Where I’m from…I get a lot of attention because of my mother.”
“Who’s your mom? Is she famous?”
“Um…”
“Only locally,” interjected Alia.
“Anyway,” said Diana, “I know people will be judging, so I have to think about what to wear. My mother does, too. She’s really good at it. And it isn’t just about battle. Sometimes everything feels like a fight. You know, like just sitting through a dinner.”
“Or walking down the street,” said Nim.
“Or making it through an hour at a party,” Alia said.
Diana found herself smiling. “It’s just an hour. We’ll manage it.” And when that hour had passed, they would be on their way to the spring, on their way to changing the future.
A knock came at the door, and Jason ducked his head inside. “I need to head over to the meeting soon. Traffic’s heavy.”
“Tell me you’re not wearing that to the party,” said Nim.
Jason had donned a suit similar to the ones worn by the businessmen on the train.
He tugged at his cuff a bit self-consciously. “I’d planned to change into my tux at the office. And hello, Nim. So glad you can join us tonight.”