“History is told by the winners,” Trihn murmured.
A part of her desperately wanted to be back in New York right now, so she and Renée could have this talk in person. They could go to the studio afterward and take class until her muscles were too sore to continue. But she had chosen Vegas, and she loved her life and friends here. Just hearing Renée’s voice though made Trihn miss home.
“You absolutely cannot go to that wedding, and you definitely can’t be her maid of honor,” Renée told her.
“She’s my sister.”
“Seriously?”
Trihn heard another voice on the other end of the line, and then Renée muffled the phone.
“You talk some sense into her,” Trihn heard Renée say to someone else.
“Hello?” Ian said into the phone a few seconds later.
Trihn’s and Ian’s parents would vacation together throughout the year. Since she was a kid, she had spent nearly every summer, spring, and winter break with him and his family. He was at Columbia, studying computer science, and since she had been out of town, his crush on her had disappeared, and he had a blossoming relationship with Renée. Trihn thought it was adorable.
“Hey, Ian.”
“Renée said that Lydia and Preston got engaged?”
“Yeah, they did. Last night.”
“You’re not thinking of going, are you?”
“She’s my sister, Ian,” she whispered. It felt like that should mean something.
“And a horrible one.”
“Ian—”
“She chose a guy over you, her own sister. I was there. I remember how you were that day. Renée and I both do. Just think about it. She wouldn’t do this if the roles were reversed.”
Trihn buried her head in her pillow and reconsidered this wanting-to-be-in-New York thing. Her friends knew her a bit too well.
“Shouldn’t I be the bigger person?” she mumbled into the phone.
“If you want to be miserable,” he said.
There was another scuffle on the other line, and then Renée was talking again, “You do not want or need to be the bigger person. Lydia never apologized to you, and she’s still dating the douche bag. He’s probably cheated on her and given her some kind of disease by now. She’d deserve it.”
“I don’t know. I just found out. I need more time to process.”
“Yeah, well, if you come back to New York for this shit, I’m going to beat your scrawny ass. That’s a promise.”
Trihn laughed a real laugh for the first time in what felt like weeks. “I miss you.”
“We miss you, too, beautiful. But we have to get to class. City never sleeps, hooker.”
“Love you guys. Bye.”
When Trihn hung up, she felt an eensy bit better. It was enough to send Damon a text that said she was alive and had made it home in one piece. But it was not enough to get out of bed.
In fact, she spent the next three weeks either lounging around or hiding out in the studio at school.
All design students were given after-hours access to the studio. Most of the time would be spent putting extra hours into the techniques they had been learning in class or working on various fashion show projects. The senior students in the fashion show would work overtime all week, tweaking designs and patterns into beautiful creations. The show wasn’t for another two months, but everyone had seemed to be in a constant fever.
The studio was the only place Trihn could find inspiration anymore. And even though she was supposed to be helping the models for the show, she found herself sketching her own clothes and working in the studio to see her designs come to life. Since she was a kid, she had done some of sewn her own clothes at home, but it was always a hobby, just something she did for fun. It was easy to fall back into it when she needed to take her mind off of everything.
Trihn was sewing the final touches on a skirt that she was going to give to Maya to wear at work when she felt a presence over her shoulder.
“Can I help you?” Trihn asked, stopping the sewing machine. She glanced up at the person standing behind her. She had never seen the woman before. She was probably one of the senior students who Trihn didn’t know.
“Whose design are you helping with?” she asked. The woman was in a fashionable black skirt suit that looked as if it had been made for her with a bright purple silk blouse that tied around her neck. Her red hair was pinned back off her face, but it clearly had its own natural bounce.
Trihn raised an eyebrow. “Mine.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Trihn couldn’t help sounding snappish. Normally, she could work in here all alone without anyone even noticing her, let alone bothering her. It pulled her out of her Zen.
“And this dress?” the woman asked.
She fingered the black dress Trihn had nearly finished this afternoon. The design had been stuck in her head for days, and she had it almost perfect. It was an all black number that crisscrossed across the collarbones with cutouts at the sides and hugged every inch of her body. She wanted to wear it out the next time she had enough energy to go to Posse, but it wasn’t quite ready yet. And neither was she.