Chapter 2

"Philip Yeasmith?"

"Here," a redheaded man said just as Sarah came in through the classroom door. The professor raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. She took a seat next to a girl with bright purple hair.

"Hi," she muttered, plunking her backpack down next to the desk and removing her cap. The girl shrugged and looked back at her laptop screen. Sarah sighed loudly and removed her parka.

"Sarah Williams?"

"Here," Sarah said quickly.

The professor cleared his throat. "I was calling on you to answer a question, Miss Williams. Attendance is finished."

"What?... Oh. Sorry. What was the question again, professor?"

A couple of stoners in the back of the class snorted.

"I haven't asked the question yet, Miss Williams." The man's eyes were beginning to darken.

Sarah's insides crumbled. This day was just getting better and better.

"I apologize, Professor Hemingworth," she said, but he had already called on another student. Sarah quickly pulled out her laptop and hid her red face behind it. There was no point in paying attention today. The girl sitting next to her shot her a slightly sympathetic look, but Sarah continued to stare at the screen. It was the last day of the semester, and she had no finals left. She could get through this, somehow…

Snow was falling down on the city in chunks, fluffy and delectable, resembling air-puffed bits of icing. Quincy Market was alight with Christmas decor, shoppers were racing all around with large bags, and tourists were snapping pictures of themselves with the human "scultpure" dressed as an elf perched on a box outside of the building. Sarah's stomach was growling like a small beast, but she had taken the extra ten-minute walk in order to experience the hustle-and-bustle she always enjoyed witnessing in the Market. There were so many food vendors lining each side that she simply couldn't make a decision of what to eat. Everything was terribly expensive, but after having such a rough morning, she reasoned that buying herself a good meal would be a worthwhile investment. Sarah finally came across a Chinese vendor, and after handing over a precious $8.50 for her noodles, she grabbed an open seat in the center of the Market and dug in.

The time passed quickly. Once she was done eating and staring off into space, Sarah pulled out her phone to check the time. It was almost noon, and she had to be back at her apartment in half an hour to meet with the landlord.

Come on already, she thought. Can't I just have some time for myself?

You can, a voice answered. You can have all the time in the world, if you want it.

Sarah froze. "What the hell?"

"Hey," a man looked at her, frowning. "Can you watch your language, please?" He was seated with his two young daughters a couple places down from her.

"My apologies, sir. Have a nice day!" She picked up her trash and backpack, racing away from the table and to the trash bin. Sarah felt her face go hot for the third time that day. She was never embarrassed about anything.

After a frantic race through crowds of people on multiple icy streets, Sarah finally made it back to her apartment with two minutes to spare. Relieved, she turned the key to the main door and began to trudge up the stairs when she noticed something white hanging from her boot. It certainly wasn't snow… a feather? She picked it from the bootlace and held it up under the dim hallway lights. The feather was the whitest thing she'd seen all day, even counting the snow. The quality was pristine. It obviously came from no ordinary bird. It couldn't have been a dove, where would she have found a dove in Boston?

…Could it be…?

Sarah's heart pounded as she approached her door. There was an equally white envelope sitting on the welcome mat, sprinkled with glitter and sealed with black wax. Her name was written on the front in the fanciest scrawl she had ever seen. It was certainly not befitting for so plain of a name as hers.

"Well, who's that from, dear?" The landlord, Mrs. Webb approached her with crossed arms and a smile. Sarah returned the smile and shrugged, picking up the envelope in her red hands.

"I can honestly say I have no idea, ma'am!"

"Would you like to open it now? Our meeting can wait a minute."

"Oh, no! It's perfectly all right! I don't wish to waste your time!" Sarah quickly removed her keys from her coat pocket and stuck one into the handle. Of course, it wasn't the right one. She laughed nervously and removed it, jamming the second one in and successfully turning the knob. Mrs. Webb stared at her quizzically, but followed her into the room.

"Please, have a seat." Sarah motioned the woman to her dusty loveseat and tossed her backpack onto her bed.

"Thank you, Sarah. This won't take too long. I was just hoping to check up on everything. I know how you've been struggling…" The landlord upturned her nose at the sight of the less-than-satisfactory condition of the carpet.

"Oh, I'm fine, really. I'm very thankful to have a roof over my head, and such a caring landlord-"

"Honey," the woman interrupted her sternly. "I know your heat got shut off. I can feel it myself! Lord knows I'll be able to see my breath any second now."

Sarah shrunk into the other side of the loveseat and sighed, staring at her rugged boots in shame. "I lost my job last Thursday. I wasn't expecting the bill to come until today, but it came last Friday instead, and I was two dollars short…"

The woman placed a gentle hand on Sarah's back and cleared her throat.

"I was in your position once… in fact, I was expecting my firstborn at your age. I barely had any money. I was trying to attend business school at the time, and feed myself and my unborn child, and keep a warm roof over my head all at once. In theory, it sounded simple, but I was quick to learn that even the basics are hard to maintain when you're this young."

Sarah buried her face in her hands and held back tears. "I thought I had it under control, Mrs. Webb. I really did. But I got distracted at work one too many times. My boss noticed, and he fired me on the spot. I'm just not used to this sort of thing. I miss home. I want to be with my brother. He's the only person I really care about right now… I barely even care about myself…" her voice cracked, and she burst out into hard sobs. The older woman continued to pat Sarah's back gently.

"It's all right, my dear. You'll be able to pull through. I know you. Your stubborn resilience saves you, no matter what."

"May I… may I light some candles tonight, Mrs. Webb? Just a few?"

"Well… all right. Light as many as you need. I trust you, Sarah," Mrs. Webb gave her a look of confidence and rose from the sofa, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt and walking to the door. "You rest now, my dear. You'll be able to find another job soon enough."

Click.

Sarah wiped the tears on her parka sleeve and removed it gingerly. The room seemed terribly empty without Mrs. Webb in it. She sat there for a moment, wallowing in the depths of her despair. She could try to get a job for the next couple of days at a local store. Many places needed some last-minute Christmas help. But this was the city, and there were probably a hundred other starving college students who needed the job much more than she did. Sarah knew that she really needed to do something, but all she could manage to do was sit in her broken sofa and stare at Robert Plant's face on the wall.

A few minutes later, she noticed the fancy white envelope laying on her coffee table, and the next minute it was in her hands. The paper was crisp and smooth. A few pieces of glitter fell into the crevices of Sarah's corduroy pants. She traced the swirls and lines of her name with a trembling index finger. Sarah. Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah. In the next moment, she was running a fingernail underneath the wax seal, breaking it without ruining the intricate emblem. Inside the envelope were -surprise- more glitter, and a black card. She opened it, gasping. An invitation was hand-written in the same scrawl, except smaller, and in bright gold ink.

To Miss Sarah Katherine Williams~

Who is Most Cordially Invited to Attend the Annual Christmastide Ball

At the Redheart Hotel on New Cambridge Street

Thursday Evening at 7 o'clock

~Your eveningwear will be arriving shortly.

"What?" Ten thousand thoughts came bursting into her mind, removing the sleepy cobwebs from the corners of her imagination. Who could this be from? What eveningwear? What would it look like? Why have I never heard of this hotel? What type of ball will this be?

There was barely any time to properly organize her thoughts. Almost immediately after reading the invitation, there was a sharp knock on her door, and the sound of scrambling feet. Sarah rose from her loveseat and approached the door in a daze. The ugly wallpaper swirled around in her visage, and the scent of must panged inside her nostrils. Her hands could barely find the door's handle, and once they did, it seemed to be ages before she finally got it to open.

But she didn't regret it once she did.

There, on a mannequin, right atop her doormat, was the most gorgeous dress she'd ever seen, and a feathered mask to match. The dress was a deep blue color, full-skirted, with silver beads placed in order to resemble the night sky. The bodice was corseted and shapely, beaded with more silver into intricate swirls and bursts. The mask would cover the top half of her face, and was delicately feathered in gray and dark blue. The dress was sleeveless, and a small bag hung from the top of the mannequin, containing matching ribbons and combs for the hair. Underneath the poofy skirt were dark blue satin pumps with the same silver-beading design as the bodice. How could this all be for her? It was far too beautiful to be real. None of this made sense, and yet, it was just what she needed. Sarah eagerly took the finery back into her room, placing it at the foot of her bed, and staring at it for the next hour. What else was there to do?

It was far past midnight once Sarah drifted off to sleep, candles reluctantly snuffed out and four blankets piled atop her bed. She'd been texting her stepmother to assure her everything was perfectly fine, and she was wishing her, her dad, and Toby all the best for Christmas. But the silence of the falling snow had forced sleep upon Sarah's body, and she had easily given into the impulse. Only too late had an owl passed by her window, flapping its wings wildly and soaring away, cooing and singing gently for her. Only for her.