Callie stood in the middle of her mom’s closet, her fingers twitching at her sides. The dress was practically glowing—shimmery white like snow on Christmas morning, with tiny little diamonds stitched into the bodice that caught the light and threw it everywhere. It looked like magic. Real magic. The tag was still dangling off the sleeve, just daring her to pull it off the hanger.

Behind her, the bedroom door was open just a crack. She could feel it watching her.

She spun around, heart pounding like the little pink energizer bunny, and slammed the door shut.

Okay. Just for a second. One second.

She’d never even know. They were up last night forever—laughing and drinking and doing that weird slow dancing thing in the living room where they kept whispering and giggling and kissing like the big kids at school.

Callie had gotten sent to bed at like 8:00. Not that she particularly minded – watching her parents kiss like two love birds wasn’t exactly something she found exciting anyway.“Special Saturday,” they’d called it, whatever that meant. Which always meant mom and dad ended up passed out on the couch like a melted pile of grown-up. They were probably still down there right now, mouths open and snoring, drooling on the throw pillows.

She turned back to the dress. That thing must have costed a million gazillion bucks. Who wouldn’t want to try it on?

Callie yanked it off the hanger, threw her own shirt and pajama pants in a pile on the floor, and slid the dress over her head. The fabric made a swishing sound, cool and silky against her skin. It was a little long—okay, it was WAY too big. But she didn’t care. She looked at herself in the big mirror above mom‘s vanity, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hymn as she lifted and curtsied like the old ladies she’d seen in the movies.

She twirled. Arms out. Dress flaring. The diamonds caught the light and turned the room into a glitter storm.

“Yes, my darling,” she said in a fake British accent, holding her hand out to no one. “I would love to have this dance with you.”

She dipped and spun, her head tilted dramatically, her imaginary prince gazing lovingly into her eyes—until her elbow smacked straight into a wine glass someone had left on the vanity.

It tipped.

“No no no no no—”

The glass clinked as it hit the floor. Red liquid splashed. A slow-motion horror show. It oozed off the edge of the vanity, slithered down the front of the white dress, and bloomed across the fabric like a murder scene.

Callie froze as her blue eyes widened in absolute horror.

“No no no no—”

She grabbed at the dress, pinched at the fabric, tried to blot the stain with her hands, but it was spreading. Much too quickly. Huge and red and sticky. It smelled like strawberries. It smelled like doom.

She tore the dress off, flung it onto the bed, threw her own clothes back on so fast she nearly put her shirt on backwards. Then she sprinted across the hall to her room like the floor was made of lava. She grabbed her old green duffel bag, crammed the dress inside, and zipped it up.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?

She opened her closet and shoved the bag into the back, behind her old soccer cleats and a unicorn onesie she hadn’t worn in three and a half years.

Bleach. That’s what you clean stuff with, right? Bleach. Fast. Before Mom sees. Before anyone sees.

She flew down the stairs, out the front door, and across the street like a maniac. Her bare feet pounded painfully against the pavement. Her lungs were burning. Finally, she made it to her friend Emma‘s house and pounded on the front door with desperate fists.

Emma opened the door wearing a confused frown and a plastic tiara.

“Callie, what is wrong with you?!”

Callie bent over, hands on her knees, trying to suck in oxygen. “I… I need bleach.”

“…What?”

“I was trying on my mom’s new dress—the white one with the tag still on it—and I spilled something red on it. It’s bad, Emma. Like, real bad. You gotta help me. Please. I’ll give you my whole piggy bank. All of it.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Your whole piggy bank, huh? How much we talkin’?”

Callie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Like… two bucks, Give or take.?”

Emma squinted, calculating. Then she sighed like this whole thing was a real inconvenience. “Fine. You better love me forever.”

She slammed the door in Callie’s face and came back a minute later with a small plastic cup, half-full of cloudy liquid. “Here.”

“Oh my gosh—thank you, thank you, thank you!” Callie snatched the cup and spun around.

Emma crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “Don’t forget to pay up!”

“I won’t!” Callie shouted over her shoulder as she ran down the sidewalk again, bleach sloshing dangerously in the cup.

An evil grin spread across her face as she ran, and she mumbled under her breath, “Sucker.”