"What are you going to wear?"

Tori looked up from her phone to find Becky digging in Tori's closet as if it were her own. "Wear? Wear where?"

Becky snorted a laugh. "The Leaver's Ball, obviously. It's tomorrow."

Tori grumbled. "No clue. Just a dress I guess."

"A dress? What dress?"

"There's a long black one in there. I can wear that."

Becky wrinkled her nose and pulled out the dress in question. "This?"

"Yeah."

"Tori this looks like a cross between a nun's habit and a nan's nightdress, you're not wearing this."

Tori rolled her eyes and sat up. "Well, that's all I have. And, no, I'm not going shopping. So don't even try it."

Becky wasn't even listening anymore, her eyes on her phone.

"Okay, whatever fine," she said, pocketing her phone. "Dress like Kentish Morticia Addamms, see if I care.'

Becky left right before dinner and Tori checked her phone to see several texts from Michael.

M: I swear I'm not being a pervert

M: but I also can't tell you why I'm asking you this

M: but could you please

M: confirm your bra size

Tori stared at the texts. She often got random texts from Michael, but this was a new one.

"Tori! Dinner!"

She replied to the best of her knowledge and went to eat dinner.

🌿🍂🌱🍁🍃🍁🌱🍁🌿

"What time is Michael meeting us?"

Tori averted her eyes from her reflection to look at her brother. He was very handsome in a fitted dark blue suit, leaning against her door frame and watching as she fussed with her hair and dress. It was fine, it was a totally acceptable dress, but since Becky's little comments she was starting to wish that maybe she'd at least looked at some other options.

"Um, I think he said six? I know Mum and Sarah want us to take photos together."

"Okay cool, I'll let Nick know..."

Charlie trailed off as the bell rang downstairs.

"Oh, maybe that's him."

Charlie disappeared down the hall and Tori went back to agonising over her poor fashion choices. At least her hair looked cute.

"Knock knock."

Tori turned and nearly burst into tears. Michael was there, in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, looking like he was ready for an awards show, not a stupid end of school dance.

"Hey!" he said, jostling the bags in his hands and hurrying over. "What's wrong?"

Tori cursed under her breath and dabbed at her eyes. "Nothing. You just look so great and I..." She sighed, deflating and turning back to the mirror.

Michael grinned at her reflection over her shoulder and heaved the large pile of garment bags onto her bed.

"What is that?"

"Becky texted me. She said you were doing yourself a disservice. I knew you would rather die than go dress shopping, so I picked up some options."

Tori stared at the pile on her bed. Now she really felt like crying.

She launched herself at Michael and he laughed, scooping her into a hug and spinning her around.

"Thank you. I really don't want to wear this awful thing."

Michael smiled, tugging on the capped sleeve of her dress. "You know I love you. And you look beautiful in anything. But this is maybe ready for the bin?"