I stared at the screen of my laptop for what felt like hours, mind wandering leisurely between what I ought to be writing, what I wanted to be writing, and an embarrassing amount of my wonderful to-be life after I'm discovered for the author-and-director of the times I'm destined to be. Or something.

"Chloe?" Liz screamed from the next room, making me jump about a foot into the air and half-gasp-half-scream, then shudder into the back of my chair.

You'd think she'd have learned by now. I pushed my feet off the desk and towards the door, opening it to see her standing in the middle of the hallway with a sheepishly apologetic look on her too-pretty face. Her blonde hair was in rollers and she wore her Victorian slip and stockings. "I'm sorry for startling you," she all but cooed.

I did my best to put on a believable smile despite the feeling of panic still dancing across my skin. "I don't believe you," I said.

"But it's true," she said, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes. I couldn't help but give her a small smile in return.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to remind you to wear blue tonight," she whispered.

I sighed a loud, exasperated sigh as my body gradually sank out of panic. "I told you, Elizabeth Delaney-"

"But you have to!" Liz whined.

"I am not going to your dress up party-"

"It is so not a dress up party, it-!"

"I'm sorry, Liz," I said. "I really am. But I can't handle that."

"Well, neither can I," she said. "Not without you. I help you all the time- I go with you to everything to help you get through it. I even went to that stupid Tarantino marathon despite the fact that I am very strongly morally against that horrible, horrible man."

I looked down at the slippers on my feet. She was right, of course. Everytime I had to go to some sort of public event, she came along with me, just so I could get through it without a panic attack. "I know," I whispered as the guilt flooded over me. I knew then that I would fold and just go, but I was still gonna try to fight it for a little while. "Because I panic easily. Just like I will tonight at your party."

"But I'll be there, with you, by your side, the whole time," she assured me. "You know I have anxiety, too. And you know how much this means to me. Please, Chloe."

I looked up at her as my last ditch arguments crumbled around me. Her pretty, midnight blue eyes were sad and desperate, and suddenly, I felt like The Worst Friend Ever, trademark pending. "Yeah. I know."

"So you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"Fine," I muttered. "But I'm not gonna wear blue."

She got a small smile. "I already made the dress."

I looked up at her in disbelief as she nibbled on her lip. "You what?"

"I love you, Chloe,"

Three hours later, I stood in front of Liz's bedroom mirror, peering at the pretty gown Liz had made for me. It looked perfectly authentic, though it was made mostly out of cheap polyester. It was a shade of teal somewhere between blue and green, and it did look awfully flattering against my pale skin and light orange hair. The sheer layers looked fragile and ancient, and the fit was perfectly Edwardian, indeed. "This is stunning, Liz," I whispered softly. "How did you even make this?"

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "I wanted to follow a pattern, but none of them looked right, so I just... Winged it. It doesn't even look vintage,"

I gawked at her. "I look like a ghost, Liz, or a time traveller, or something. It looks perfect."

She looked at me hopefully. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I do." I looked over at my reflection again. "And the corset doesn't even hurt,"

"That's a common misconception," Liz said. "But proper corsets never hurt. In fact, if I was to have made you a truly accurate corset-"

"Liz," I said softly, looking over at her. "As much I love your history lessons, if we don't hurry up, we're gonna be late."

"Right. I have to get dressed."

Another hour or so later, Liz was standing behind me in her gorgeous bronze dress, something not totally unlike mine but a lot more- 1870s. Her hair and makeup were also authentic to that time period (or so I assumed; I'd only just grasped the differences between each Victorian decade) and she looked absolutely breathtaking. I was sat in front of her rickety vanity, having not set my hair the night before like Liz. She had just finished my hair and makeup, and I peered at myself beyond the antique glass of the mirror. It was a truly stunning piece, of course, with the weathered glass only adding to the effect, but how Liz managed to do her makeup in front of this everyday was far beyond me. Still, my Gibson Girl hairstyle looked gorgeous (and huge), and my subtle makeup managed to make my pasty, colorless face look warm and demure.

"God, the Edwardians would have loved you," Liz gushed. It was a sentiment she shared with me often.

"Yeah, Yeah. C'mon." The dread was already building in my chest, and I just wanted tonight to be over with.

"You're right," she said. "We need to get there before it's too busy."

We scurried out of our tiny apartment and barely managed to squeeze ourselves into Liz's boxy old Volo station wagon. "How are you doing that with that- bustle, thing, or whatever it's called?"

"Crinolette, but close enough. Easily- it's made to be flexible."

"Am I wearing one of those?" I wondered as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"No, you're actually wearing a bustle." Liz made a left turn and I groaned.

"Wrong way," I informed her.

"Buffalo is west," she said.

"And we were facing south," I said. "Besides, we still have to follow roads, and-"

"Okay, woman, just give me the directions."

"Just let me pull them up-"

"You don't know them?"

"No, Elizabeth, I haven't memorized the direct route to your parents house-"

"Then how do you know I went the wrong way?"

The two and a half hour drive to Buffalo (including a brief stop to a McDonald's drive-thru) went much the same way in Liz' tiny little yellow wagon. We got quite a few strange glances from drivers in neighboring cars. I had a headache as we pulled up in front of Liz's parents, um, mansion , for lack of a better word. It was a pretty yellow Victorian with at least three floors and a stunning wrap around porch, on which sat a quaint porch swing. I pouted as Liz parked.

"Why do we live in a shitty apartment, again?"

"Because I am an independent woman and not a trust fund baby," she said.

"Cool! I'll remind you about that the next time you eat moldy bread."

"I told you, the slices I ate weren't moldy!"

"Still gross," I said as I climbed out of the car.

"The mold was on the other side of the loaf. My sandwich tasted just fine."

A girl dressed like a 1920s flapper curled her lip at Liz, closing the door to her shiny red sports car before sauntering off, hips and fringe swaying as she moved.

"See? I told you it's weird." I said, walking forward.

"Whatever, since when do you agree bougie rich kids?"

"When the question at hand is whether or not eating moldy bread is gross or not, apparently," I said, turning to watch Liz struggle to get out of the car without dirtying her dress on the lawn.

"I told you- the bread I ate wasn't moldy!" Liz finally stood, frowning at the flapper as she knocked on the front door. "Her dress isn't even authentic. I think Party City could've done better,"

I looked over at the flapper again- Liz was exaggerating, of course, but now that I was looking I noticed a few historical inaccuracies in her pretty dress. "You're uncharacteristically saucy today,"

Liz shrugged, flushing a little bit, and I knew she'd felt guilty the second she'd closed her mouth. I smiled at her and locked our elbows, leading her up to the door. Anxiety and terror flooded me as the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in again, but I just focused on the familiar smell of Liz' peachy perfume and stood as close to her as I could without it seeming weird. "We got this, girl," Liz whispered under her breath, as if she could sense how I felt.

"Hell yeah, we do," I said, briefly setting my head against her shoulder before knocking on the front door.

Ms. Van Dop, the Delaney's housekeeper, opened the door and gave us a fake smile, inviting us inside. "Miss Elizabeth, a pleasure as always," she offered in as authentic a voice as she could mention.

"The sentiment is mutual, ma'am," said Liz. I barely suppressed a smirk, nodding to the woman in greeting as we passed.

Gentle jazz music was permeating throughout the house, and the usually contemporary-chic furniture had been exchanged for antiques and authentic nick-nacks that went seamlessly together, somehow, despite ranging from colonial era to the fifties and sixties. "Wow," I said softly, grateful to see it still empty. "They really went all out for tonight, didn't they?"

"Of course they did," Liz muttered. "Their darling niece Maya is coming to town for it, after all."

"Liz," I hissed, stopping dead as Liz frowned sadly at the carpet. "When were you going to mention that?"

Liz shrugged. "Right about now, I guess."

We continued to walk forward, then. "I'm sorry,"

Liz shrugged. "I'll live. Not like it's her fault, anyway,"

"Nana will be here, too, though, right?"

"Yeah," Liz said happily. "Cal, too,"

"Really? See, there's that. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, Elizabeth!" said a familiar voice from behind us. We swivelled to see Mrs. Carson in her drawing room, standing with her husband and a few other people, including the flapper from outside. "And- Charlotte, is it?"

"It's Chloe, Mother," said Liz, feigning patience. "You have met her over a dozen times."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear," said Mrs. Carson to me, smiling as she made her way towards her daughter. They hugged and kissed each other's cheeks, then she shook my hand. "But you do look like a Charlotte, after all. Perhaps Lottie for short?"

"Lizzie," said Mr. Carson, Liz's stepdad.

"Daddy!" She cooed, flying graciously into his arms. I examined Mrs. Carson's dress- she looked like Marie Antoinette, wig and all, and I'm sure that was exactly who she was channeling. Her dress was the epitome of authenticity- in fact, if it weren't in such perfect condition, I might have guessed it was legitimately vintage.

"You look stunning, ma'am, as always," I said sheepishly. Mrs. Carson smiled fondly at me.

"Why, thank you, dear- as do you. That is dress lovely, considering your budget," she said. I flushed crimson.

"Thank you. Liz made it, actually- her own, too."

"Oh," Mrs. Carson turned towards her daughter. "You must have been so crunched for time. Kit- I assure you, her work is generally much better than this."

Liz gave her father a look, and his eyes were apologetic as he looked back at her.

"I think the dresses look wonderful," said a man from beside Mr. Carson- presumably Kit. "As well as the young ladies within them.

"Liz, Chloe," Mr. Carson said, giving me a nod in greeting. "This is my good friend, Christopher Bae, his two sons Simon and Derek, and his daughter, Tori."

Christopher Bae was a tall man, with greying black hair and a handsome, masculine face. He looked like a 30s archeologist. Simon looked much like his father, though his skin was darker and his hair blonde, his almond eyes several shades lighter. He was quite obviously mixed. As for his outfit, he looked- somewhere between magician and hobbit, in his corduroy vest and paisley shirt, a long jacket and a cloak, a top hat. Tori was next to him, and though the asian genes were more faint in her, it was obvious to see the familial connection between her, her father, and her brother. Her hair was black like her father's, her skin pale, her eyes still almond shaped but much more subtly so.

And- Derek. He was impossibly tall, at least six and a half feet, with broad shoulders and a deep scowl on his face. He didn't look asian, nor at all similar to either sibling. He had dark hair and pale skin, a wide button nose, glimmering green eyes. He wore a simple dark tweed suit, barely looking vintage at all.

"You're related?" I asked before I knew what I was doing, and a typhoon of anxiety and dread crashed over me.

"Identical twins," Derek muttered, not making eye contact.

"He's adopted," Kit said, giving his son a look that was halfway between amused and exasperated.

"We're still teaching him manners, but he is quite difficult to housebreak," said Simon, clapping a hand on his brother's arm. Derek grumbled something I couldn't quite make out, then turned towards the globe on the desk and turned it slowly with his fingers. I looked over at Liz as she looped her arm around mine again.

"You all look lovely," said Liz.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I l-like your dress."

"Thanks," said Tori, giving me a slow once over. I wanted to crawl right out of my own skin. "You, too."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room for one long, agonizing moment, before Mr. Bae thankfully broke it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Liz," he said. "Having heard so much about your from Andrew,"

"The pleasure is mine," Liz said sheepishly. "Dad talks about you a lot, too."

"All good, I hope," Kit laughed out.

Liz got a coy smile. "Define 'good'." Laughter, merriment. I started feeling lightheaded as their words stopped sinking in. Eventually, the house was as full as it could comfortably be and Liz had walked me around the entire main floor at least twice. Finally, she led me back to the drawing room, sitting us both down on the loveseat.

"How are you feeling?" Liz whispered in my ear.

"I'm not feeling," I said softly.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Don't leave me," I whispered, closing my eyes, leaning on her shoulder.

"Okay," Liz said, wrapping her arm around me.

"I can grab you something," said a voice, and I jumped. I opened my eyes to see- Simon? I was pretty sure that was his name. He gave me a crooked grin. "Sorry for scaring you,"

"I-I-I-I-"

"She'll take any sweet wine, please- preferably white," Liz said.

"Sure thing. And for you?"

"Nothing, unfortunately. I have to drive. Thank you, though."

"No problem."

Simon disappeared for the kitchen and I settled back onto Liz' shoulder. He returned a little while later, two glasses of wine in hand and a familiar face beside him. Maya stood there, looking like a forties librarian in smart trousers and a loose blouse. She smiled brightly at Liz, who returned it. Simon handed me my glass and I thanked him quietly, downing it in one swallow.

"How are you, cuz?" Maya asked brightly as Liz stood to hug her.

"I'm alright! How about you?"

"I'm good," she said, leaning back. "What's new?"

Liz shrugged coyly. "Not much, honestly. College is kind of hard, but so fun. You?"

"That's good," Maya said. "Well, school is good for me, too, and, um," Maya grinned down at her feet. "Daniel and I are moving in together, so that's fun,"

"Wow! I'm so happy for you," Liz said, hugging her cousin again.

"Yeah," Maya looked so- unlike herself, grinning and blushing. "Serena's gonna live with us, too. Um, we're remodeling the garage for her. So, you know, a lot of fun stuff."

"That's so fun!" Liz beamed. "Trust me, living with your best friend is- a joy. A painful joy, of course, but,"

I nudged her softly, trying to act more like a human and less like a terrified alien. "Oh... Stop it." The conversation went on, and I'm pretty sure Simon spoke, too- I did, as well, maybe?- for a while, until finally the party began to die down and people began to leave. I was almost feeling like I wasn't having a heart attack by the time it was just Liz, her family, and the Baes.

Mrs. Carson was wine drunk, much more so than usual, her legs draped across her husband's lap. She was studying Liz and I, too intoxicated to realize she had a deep frown of disapproval on her lips.

The night went on for a bit longer, quietly chatting in the pretty room. Maya was talking about her boyfriend, and veterinary school, and so forth, when Mrs. Carson interrupted.

"Why can't you be more like Maya, Elizabeth?"

A look of shock crossed Liz's face, followed by a deep sadness that was quickly covered up by indignance. "Excuse me?"

"You're twenty-three, Liz. You just started college- and you're majoring in history. What are you going to do with your life? When are you going to settle down, start a family? I just-" she finished her glass. "I just don't understand you."

The room was silent. I clutched Liz's hand firmly in my own, my worry for my best friend the only thing strong enough to eclipse my anxiety. "Sorry, Mom," said Liz quietly. "Not all of us can fuck a rich guy and run away from our problems."

Mrs. Carson's jaw slackened as her husband tensed, looking hurt. Maya was staring wide-eyed at the floor, and the Baes all looked like they'd rather be anywhere but here. Nana had closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worse, and Callum was nodding along silently, as if grateful to his sister for saying what he couldn't. All I wanted to do was drag Liz out of there and let her cry on my shoulder in the car, but she was sitting there, taut as stone, staring at her mother. "What did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry I can't be the perfect daughter that fits so perfectly into your new, perfect life," Liz said. "I'm sorry you pretend you were born some uppity trust fund baby perfectly bred for a life of luxury. I'm sorry you act like a fucking cunt, especially when you're drunk, and I'm sorry you have to drink to forget- whatever my biological father did to you."

Mrs. Carson tensed and started down at her lap, angry and sad and in pain.

Liz stood. "And I'm sorry we had to do this in front of your friends. And I'm sorry, Andrew- I can see that I hurt you. I love you, and I thank you for taking care of my mom. But I can't- do this anymore," Liz said, looking down at her mother again. "I can't watch you flimsily pretend you don't despise me. I can't- I just. I can't."

I stood up, too, and took her hand. "I think we should go," I whispered.

"You had better," said Mrs. Carson in a low voice.

"Bye, Mom. For good."

"Liz," pleaded Mr. Carson.

"I'll text you, or whatever," Liz said, leading me out. I stared at her back the whole way to the car.

Then, we were sat in her Volvo. She was staring at the steering wheel and I was staring at her. "Liz," I said softly.

"I need to get drunk." She said suddenly. "We're gonna get a hotel room."

"We don't have any money, Liz," I argued.

"I don't really give a shit right now."