C came home earlier than I had anticipated; Klaus and I were still sitting on my bed. As we heard C opening the front door, he gave me a look that told me he understood, before he got up and left my room through the window.

We shouldn't have to sneak around — we weren't doing anything that we wouldn't want someone to walk in on — but it's either that or having C yell at us. Both options suck.

"Ri, are you home?" C spoke from the living room. I left my room and joined her. "What's with the roses?"

I was unsure what to tell her. Or rather, how much I wanted to tell her. "They were delivered earlier."

"They're beautiful." She leaned over to smell one of the bouquets in the living room. I tensed; C was smelling the bouquet that had the card in it.

Oh no!

She saw the card as she straightened her back and plucked it out from amongst the roses. Her smile quickly vanished. "Klaus? Klaus sent you roses, Riley?" I winced when she used my full name; it sounded almost foreign, coming from her.

I walked over to her, grabbed the card from her hand, and stuck it in my pocket. "It's nothing, C; they mean nothing."

"Roses aren't nothing, Ri. Red roses are really not nothing."

"It's not like that. They're get-well flowers. Or I'm-glad-you're-feeling-better flowers."

" 'Unraveling the mystery'?"

"I had to explain to him who Lewis was, which got complicated because I had previously told Klaus and Rebekah that both my parents were dead."

"What? Why would you lie about that?"

"Because it was easier than having to tell them that my father left me and has never looked back since. It's less painful to just have him dead, too. But of course, with my luck, he shows up again."

"So Klaus knows everything? All about the accident?"

"Everything that I know. And everything that I told you."

"And he sent you red roses to thank you?! Seriously?!"

I wasn't sure if that was a question or a statement, but I answered anyway. "It doesn't matter what colour they are — it doesn't even matter what kind they are — I don't like flowers."

"That doesn't matter, Ri. He still sent red roses. Red roses symbolize love and passion. Romance."

"To you, maybe. Right now. But Klaus is a thousand years old; for all we know, red roses symbolized something entirely different during some other era."

"I doubt that."

"It doesn't matter. Can we please stop talking about it?" I grabbed one of the two vases of roses from the living room and walked into the kitchen; might as well spread the out. I placed the vase at the centre of the kitchen table.

C followed me. "No!" I rolled me eyes as I brushed past her to pick up the vase from the table near the front door. We didn't have any other rooms in the house, other than bedrooms and a bathroom; I guess this vase has to goes in my room. It would be rude to put it out on the porch. I set it down on my desk. "Red roses are a big deal, Ri. Huge."

"Not to me. And that's all that matters here. When I look at them, all I see is something that smells too sweet, takes up space, and will eventually die. The note that came with them means more to me than the actual flowers."

"Yet you put them in your room," she said as the pointed to the vase on my desk.

"What else was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave all three in the living room; the smell was overpowering. I moved one to the kitchen. Where was I supposed to put the third vase? In your room? In the bathroom? Both of those options sound incredibly awkward to me."

"Yea, that's true." Before C could rant or complain anymore, we heard a knock at the front door. She went to answer it. I stuck my head out into the hallway.

I never thought I would ever be so glad to see Tyler at the door.

After C greeted him, she came back to the doorway of my room. "Tyler and I are going out for dinner." I nodded and she pointed at me. "We are not done having this conversation."

"Oh, I can't wait for its continuance," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

On Friday, C came home from school earlier than usual. I was sitting in the living room, reading, when she blew in through the front door carrying three shopping bags. She was walking to her room when she halted just before she made it completely past the entrance to the living room.

"Ri?! What are you doing?"

I held up my book, but stated the obvious anyway. "Reading..."

C put her hands on her hips. "Why aren't you getting ready?"

"For what?"

"For the Founder's dance! Ri, I've been telling you about it for three weeks."

It has ONLY been three weeks that C has been talking about this stupid dance? Oy!

"Why aren't you getting ready?" C's voice was getting into its higher-pitch range.

"Why would I be getting ready for the dance?"

"Because you can't go dressed in jeans. This is a formal event, Ri."

"Yes, I get that, C. You've been talking about your 'pre-Prom test run' for, apparently, three weeks. And I'm sure whatever you have planned for yourself will turn out amazing and you will look beautiful."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Ugh. Again. Why aren't you getting ready?" C asked as Aunt Liz walked in the door.

"Why should I be getting ready? I'm not going."

"Umm, yes. You are."

"Um, no. I'm not."

"Yes you are, Ri," Aunt Liz said in greeting. "We all are."

"Seriously, Aunt Liz? You're jumping on C's bandwagon too?" She merely nodded in response.

I groaned, before I remembered my final move/argument. "I don't have anything to wear. And as C so wonderfully pointed out moments ago, I cannot wear my jeans. Too bad. But do tell me all that happens when you get home. Or in the morning, depending on how late the evening goes."

"Don't worry, Ri. Care has it covered."

C smirked as she held up the shopping bags in her hands. "Mom and I checked your closet this morning, Ri, and when we didn't see a dress, I knew you were trying to avoid going. So I took some liberties and got you a dress. And shoes. Come on; let's get ready." I felt the victorious look fall from my face.

Aunt Liz smiled as C dragged me into her bedroom. "I'm not looking forward to this either, Ri, but as Founding family members, we have an obligation to attend."

"I can see why my mom wanted to leave all this stuff behind," I mumbled as C shoved me into her room.

"Sit," she said as she pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me into the chair at her vanity.

"Ouch," I complained as C pulled my hair. Again. "Ow, C. That hurts."

"If you stopped squirming, Ri, it would stop hurting." C was 'pulling' my hair into a side braid over my left shoulder.

"I'll stop squirming when you stop pulling. Why can't I just wear my hair down?"

"Because you wear it that way every day. This is a special occasion, Ri. You have to put effort into how you look."

She tugged on my hair to emphasize the 'effort.' "Ow."

When C finally finished with my hair, she started attacking my face. Apparently a girl cannot attend a Founder's dance without putting makeup on.

Seriously?!

Once C finished with me, she got herself ready. I offered to help — it seemed only fair — but the most I could do was offer to zip up her dress once she was ready to put her dress on. I was hopeless when it came to the hair styling or makeup stuff.

As she was doing her own makeup, I couldn't help but ask: "So we're supposed to go to this dance thing and be all merry and wonderful and sociable and blah?"

"Of course," C responded as she applied mascara.

"And just, what, forget that a vampire hunter is in town trying to kill us all?"

"Not forget. Just... put it out of our minds for an evening."

"Is that safe?"

"Don't worry, Ri. He won't attack us at such a public event. He wants to keep a low profile, too." We were quiet for a few moments as I thought about her logic and she finished her makeup. "Stop doing that Riley." Her comment startled me, but I managed to give her a quizzical look. "You're doing that thing where you rub your lips together when you're thinking. Stop, or I'll have to re-colour them."

"Okay. Stopping."

"Good." She put down whatever torture device / makeup implement she was using. "I'm done. How do I look?" She asked as she turned around to face me.

"Beautiful. Of course."

"Thanks." She walked over to her closet and pulled out two dresses: one was black and the other was light purple.

Please let it be the black one that C wants me to wear.

"This one's for you, Ri," C said as she handed the black one to me.

C put her dress on first — where I fulfilled my role of helping her zip up — and of course she looked amazing. Her lilac dress was halter style at the top and form-fitting.

"Wow, C."

"Thanks," she said as she put on her heels. "You're turn, Ri. Get dressed."

The black dress was almost strapless, but had two pieces of material that went from the middle to tie at the back of my neck. I had a black, lacy-looking sweater I could pair with it to avoid the straplessness.

I do not do strapless.

"This looks nice, C. Fits well."

"Nice? You look amazing, Ri."

"Thanks. But I'm terrified to see what shoes you think I'm going to wear."

I do not do heels.

"Relax, Ri. I know how much you hate heels. No worries," she responded as she pulled a shoe box from a shopping bag. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I saw the contents of the box: black ballet flats. "I know better than to buy heels for you."

"Thanks," I said as I put the shoes on. As C went to her closet to grab a bag, I went to my room to put on my sweater.

"Are we ready to go?" Aunt Liz asked after I stepped out of my bedroom.

"You look lovely, Aunt Liz." Her short-sleeved navy blue dress looked wonderful on her.

"Thank you, Riley. So do you."

"Ugh, no, Ri. What are you wearing?"

I rolled my eyes at C's comment. She knew my answer, but I gave it anyway. "You know I hate sleeveless tops. What makes you think I'd be okay with a nearly-strapless dress?"

"But it looked so much better on its own."

"Too bad," I responded.

"Well, I suppose I should be pleased, at least, that the sweater isn't a hoodie."