Best Served Fake

forty-three // not here to fuck spiders

"Are you ready to shop up a storm?" Isabelle said, clapping her hands together outside the entrance of David Jones.

"Well," I said, shooting her an amused grin; she was bouncing on the balls of her feet like a lunatic. "Not here to fuck spiders."

Kai had picked me up only an hour ago, Isabelle and Will in tow, sequestered away in the backseat leaving shotgun for me, and driven us all to Chadstone, the biggest    shopping centre in the country. Even though it was the closest set of shops to where I lived, half the time Mum took us to little boutique shops near the beach in Brighton just to avoid the fucking maze of Chaddy. But you would never fail to find what you were looking for, because it had pretty much everything.

I probably had enough clothes at home that I could repurpose to make a wedding outfit—especially since the advice was to dress casual—but Isabelle's excitement at the prospect of a new outfit was palpable. I usually buy my clothes repurposed from Depop or like, op-shops, she had said, but Mum gave me money to buy an outfit for today. I thought that was rather kind of Maria; mine hadn't given me any money, not that I wouldn't expected it. But when I looked to my right, I wasn't so certain that it was Maria's generosity funding Isabelle's trip today. Izzy, who had been sitting in the back seat, couldn't possibly have noticed, but I saw the set of Kai's mouth tighten. And I also saw the way he glanced at the rear view mirror, which reflected his sister's unrelenting joy, with a despondent fondness that betrayed who the real benefactor of this trip was.

Oh, Kai, I thought. I was glad Isabelle knew how lucky she was to have him, because Kai would do anything for his sister. And thank fuck I liked her, that she was deserving of everything Kai did and would do.

We wondered through the labyrinth of shops, quickly moving through the sector of expensive designer brands, searching for the upscale but affordable stores like Myer or Country Road. Isabelle cooed at a strapless boned corset dress in the window of Universal Store, but we all agreed that the "I don't give a fuck what you wear, just show up" guide from the invite still didn't include a white mini dress, even if Isabelle would have looked stunning in it.

As it turned out, Isabelle was the kind of girl who believed in trying on 1356 different outfits before she'd settle on anything, but none of us begrudged it. Izzy probably hadn't had many shopping days in her life.

"Valerie!" Isabelle called from the change room. She'd taken about 12 different outfits in there, and had had to bat her eyelashes and smile charmingly at the change room attendant to allow that many expensive clothes in the room at any one time. Izzy poked her head out from behind the curtain. "I've found your dress."

"In the... dressing room? They display outfits in there now?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, idiot. I tried the green one on and it was adorable, except my entire tit was out."

Will coughed and pointedly looked toward the ceiling. Kai made a face. They were so mature. They'd taken up residence on a plush couch outside Izzy's change room, so they could rate all her outfit choices as she cat walked up and down the corridor of rooms to their raucous applause. Unsurprisingly, Kai voted strongly against anything that didn't belong in a nunnery, while Will, ever the contrarian, actually seemed to have taste and didn't base his outfit choices on whichever one was most likely to get Izzy mistaken for the pastor.

"Do you want me to get you the next size, then?"

Isabelle shook her head, eyes sparkling. "No need. This is your dress. Trust me." She flung a bundle of emerald green fabric through the gap in the curtain, landing it squarely on my chest. "Go try it on. Seriously."

"I don't want my tit falling out at the wedding reception."

"Are you sure?" Kai asked.

I whacked him in the arm. He grinned.