Chapter 8

Saturday came as quickly as it could as if the universe was in a rush to make Avery's life a living hell.

It was only one in the afternoon and Avery sat on the carpet in her walk-in closet, considering what to wear. She had chosen five different outfits which she had placed neatly on her bed for further critique, but there was a nagging feeling that she hadn't picked the best ones.

What should she even wear to the party? Was it a casual party? Semi-formal, maybe? Should she wear a romper? A dress? Jeans and a blouse? Should she dress simply to blend in, or would dressing simply make her stand out?

Avery frustratedly ran a hand through her dishevelled curls and let out a deep sigh. Her room, along with her closet, was painted mint-green, her calm colour. But, not even that or the smell of her mother baking a fresh batch of cookies (after Avery had accidentally finished the old batch in the jar on Wednesday), could lessen her anxiety as she dreaded the party.

It was no secret that Avery suffered from general anxiety. She was diagnosed, five years ago at thirteen years old and once she and her parents had discovered that mint-green seemed to help, almost everything she owned was decorated with the colour. It was an unconventional method, but it had always helped.

With another huff, Avery changed from her seated position as she uncrossed her legs to lay down on the fluffy carpet. She ran her fingers up and down the carpet, finding comfort in its soft feel.

"Avery," Mrs Toussaint called out as she entered her daughter's room, carrying a plate of chocolate chip cookies with her. She looked around and gasped when she spotted her daughter's form on the floor of her closet. She gently placed the plate on the dresser before rushing over to Avery.

"Doux-Doux, ça va? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" she sat down next to Avery's lying form, and gingerly rested Avery's head on her lap. {Sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong?}

"Ça va, maman. C'est la fête ce soir. Je n'ai rien à porter," Avery sighed to her mother. {I'm okay, mom. It's the party tonight. I don't have anything to wear}

"Ah, but you have plenty to wear," Mrs Toussaint gestured to the racks of clothing in front of them. "T'as beaucoup de vêtements but you just wear the same things over and over." {You have lots of clothes}

"Can you help me pick something out then?" Avery asked.

"Mais, bien sûr!" she squeezed her daughter's cheeks together before they both stood up. {But, of course!}

Forty-five minutes to an hour later, they had both finally agreed on an outfit for Avery to wear to the party. It was a flowing black crop top with long sleeves, a white pair of high-waisted shorts accompanied by black wedged booties. The women stood proudly over their decision which was laid out neatly on Avery's bed.

" Génial! You can pick up any young man in this," her mother teased before grabbing a cookie off of the plate and biting into it. {Great!}

"Maman!" Avery blushed heavily, folding her arms in embarrassment.

"Maybe even Carson. I wouldn't be surprised if that boy was totally head over heels for you," Mrs Toussaint continued, causing Avery to cover her face with her hands.

"Nous sommes seulement amis, maman," Avery mumbled behind her hands. {We're only friends, mom}

"Les amis, les amoureux... same thing," Her mother said in a sing-song voice before exiting her room. {Friends, lovers}