Chasing Butterflies Chapter 34: A Dress to Impress (Patreon)

Olivia couldn’t help but stare. A dress. Trisha had given her a dress.

Not just any dress, either. At first glance, it resembled the one that Olivia had spotted at the thrift store. But a closer inspection revealed it was anything but.

Rather than the single shoulder strap of the original dress, Olivia saw that a second had been added—one of shimmering ivory vaguely reminiscent of another outfit the girl had been holding. The new strap seamlessly connected to the bodice, looking for all the world like it was part of the original design. Lifting the dress out of the box revealed that the lower half had undergone even more transformations. The skin tight tube of fabric about the legs had been cut, hanging diagonally across one side over a flowing hem of ivory that matched the strap. A speckling of small pearlescent beads across the dress tied everything together.

Olivia was stunned. When Trisha had taken the original dress, she’d been a little suspicious. It didn't take a genius to see the cheerleader plotting something with it. But this… She’d taken the cheap piece of clothing and converted it into a high-end art piece. Something that would have been worth hundreds of dollars in her time, at minimum.

I thought she was thinking of ways to use it in other projects or something. Sure, the thought of her regifting it did cross my mind. But not after turning it into… this.

The dress was gorgeous. There was no other way to put it. It was clear that the alterations had been done by hand, but that was only because she’d seen the original. Otherwise, she would have assumed that the piece had somehow escaped from a fashion show floor and followed her back in time.

…Well, actually, most of the stuff at fashion shows was pretty offputting in my day. Maybe a particularly tasteful red carpet event or movie premier would be a more accurate comparison. Trisha wasn’t kidding about being a trendsetter. Heck, she might be too ahead of her time with the whole asymmetric aesthetic.

It took a bit of effort, but Olivia put her admiration of the dress aside for the moment. There was a bigger question here. As hopeless as she was at sewing herself, it wasn’t hard to recognize how much work this had taken—more than the drawing by far. The beads alone made her fingers practically cramp up just looking at them. So why in the world did Trisha do it?

There is no way she sees this as an equivalent exchange. This is way more effort than any reasonable person would go to. For a friend, maybe, but we’ve only talked a handful of times. We barely even know each other!

She stopped. It was true, wasn’t it? Sure, she’d become friends with Sean and her other male PE teammates almost instantaneously. But they were guys. Besides, even that kind of friendship still didn’t warrant an effort like this. Assuming Trisha even did see her as such, which… why would she?

Olivia shook her head and carefully folded the dress. It was then that she noticed Trisha had even stitched up the scoop in the back—because of course she had. The other changes made it clear that the girl understood Olivia’s desire for something more modest, even though she’d never voiced any such thought.

Still, there was no way she could accept a gift like this. She’d have to give it back at PE—no, Trisha had told her to wait until she got home. Giving it back now would prove that she hadn’t. Monday then?

…Homecoming will be over and done by then. What a waste…

The traitorous thought slithered into her head unbidden. All of that work, and Olivia would repay it how? By letting the dress sit in the back of her closet with all of the other clothes she couldn’t wear? It was practically unconscionable, especially when she’d already decided on having a different dress from last time.

Her thoughts cast back to the garment she’d picked up from the thrift store. It was… all right. Not particularly exciting. It certainly fit better than the navy blue dress had, but the purchase was one of convenience, necessity, and—of course—frugality. She’d sung its praises to her mom, of course, but that was because any perceived lack of enthusiasm may well have gotten her dragged back to the mall for shopping part two.

The point was, her chosen dress wasn’t something Olivia would choose to wear in either timeline. She wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about wearing it either. But the longer she looked at Trisha’s dress, the more she realized… she did want to wear this.

She leaned her head back against the wall and groaned. I’m not seriously thinking about this. I’ve been so good lately! I haven’t had anything go seriously sideways since agreeing to tutor Bryce. Am I really going to mess that up for… for this?

This was silly. Silly and selfish. She couldn’t allow herself to indulge in things like this just because she “wanted to”. There were bigger things at stake, here. Much bigger. If rejecting Trisha’s generosity meant that she could keep things a little more on track, then she’d be a fool to do otherwise. Even if it was certain to hurt the girl’s feelings.

Olivia felt the guilt already welling up inside as she tucked the box into her backpack once more. The confines of her previous life settled around her like bands of cold iron. So often she’d felt the restrictions she’d placed upon herself, but now? They felt extra apparent.

…I hope she doesn’t hate me for wearing something else. Though… that’s not supposed to matter, is it? After all, we don’t know each other. We didn’t know each other last time. Maybe it’ll be for the best.

With a final sigh, Olivia pulled out her lunch and started eating. But not before putting the lid back on the dress box and carefully tucking it away. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally drop a chunk of marinated beef on the fine fabric.

***

The final bell couldn’t come soon enough. Olivia hurried toward the pickup loop faster than usual, hopping into her dad’s car before he sped them home. They had a little over an hour before she had to be back here for the homecoming game preparations. She and her dad watched a bit of recorded TV as they leftover chicken breast—her cooking, not his, as his attempt had yielded pucks of inedibly chewy rubber that seemed to suck all the moisture out of her mouth. She appreciated the effort, of course, but had insisted a bit harder on cooking after that. Insistence that was paying off.

Feeling revitalized and as clear-headed as she’d ever been, Olivia hurried upstairs to get changed. She ended up with just enough time to finish off her Geography homework assignment before they were headed back to the high school.

By this point, the press of students and bumper-to-bumper traffic had entirely dispersed. Only a casual smattering of cars dotted the parking lot of the once bustling campus. They arrived at a rear entrance, one closer to the band room than the spot where she was usually dropped off.

“You sure you’re supposed to be here this early?” Her dad asked for the third time as they pulled up.

“Positive. Look.” She pointed at one of the senior clarinets that she recognized, his instrument case in hand as he headed toward the band room. He wore the exact same outfit that Olivia was—white shirt, socks, and sweatbands about each wrist with red shorts.

“All right. Do you want me to walk you in?”

Olivia blushed. “I’ll be fine, dad. Really.”

“Fine, fine.” Her dad leaned over to give her an awkward half hug. “Have fun, sweetie. Good luck. I’ll be in the stands cheering for you.”

“For me? Not for, y’know, the football team?”

Her dad gave a noncommittal shrug. “Eh. Who cares about them?”

Olivia chuckled and shared one last hug with her dad before stepping out. She hurried to follow the trumpet. Some small part of her worried that she’d somehow get turned around if she lost sight of him. Yes, she’d spent nearly a month walking the mazelike passages of this campus, and yes, she’d managed to make it to her classes on time in almost every case. But that was on a strict path that didn’t change day by day. Getting to the band room from a different entrance without guidance? Even if it was nearby, it was exactly the kind of situation that usually had her calling Jason or whipping out a navigation app. She wouldn’t even pretend that she knew her way around with any degree of confidence.

Fortunately, the worst didn’t come to pass. A few turns later, Olivia heard the dull murmur of conversation spilling out from the open band room door. Stepping inside revealed a growing crowd of band kids, all dressed identically to herself and buzzing with excitement. Girls braided and pinned up each others’ hair while a circle of boys kicked a small beanbag between themselves, each hit or miss accompanied by an uproar from the participants and the crowd of onlookers.

“Hey! Olivia!”

Emma bounded over as she stepped inside. The gregarious girl’s eyes sparkled, her mouth running at twice its normal speed from sheer excitement.

“Are you ready? It’s our first football game! Homecoming! I’m excited. Have you got all the pep tunes memorized? I feel like I don’t know any of them. Oh, but Alyssa said we can keep the music with us and glance at it in the stands. If there’s time, at least…”

The freshman flute continued to gab Olivia’s ear off, content with the occasional nod or shrug as Olivia continued to look around. The trickle of arriving band members became a stream as call time drew near. They weren’t the only ones to show up, though.

“Jimmy!”

A burly college-age boy who must have been an alumni stepped into the band room. He barely made it two steps before he was jumped by a senior drumline member—quite literally. The drummer leapt rather impressively into the air, grabbing the newcomer in something between a bear hug and a koala’s grip. Nearby, the rest of the drumline laughed uproariously.

Right. Homecoming. I kind of forgot the “coming home” part refers to alumni, too.

A scattering of parents milled about near the front of the room, talking with each other as they watched over the scene. Their presence here felt… strange. Not because they were out of place. In fact, Olivia remembered many of those faces were regular fixtures of every competition, football game, or other band-related event she’d been to throughout high school. But their existence was a reminder. As much as she felt like she belonged over there, talking about work or pointing out whichever child was her own… she didn’t. She was here, on this side of the invisible wall. A few decades too early to share mutual frustrations about the idiosyncrasies of parenting teenagers. For now, at least.

"Band! Atten-tion!"

"One!"

This time, Olivia wasn’t caught off-guard by her own reflexive response. It was far more practiced now. The whole band fell silent as they turned toward Marcus, the senior drum major, with Hannah standing at his elbow. The parents also let their conversations die out, albeit more gradually than the kids had, the sudden quiet punctuated by a soft thud as the hacky sack hit the ground.

“All right!” Marcus called out in an authoritative voice. “What day is it?”

“Game day!” Came the shouted response from the band kids—some more enthusiastic than others. The seniors in particular seemed to have no compunctions about shouting at the top of their lungs.

And Shelly was making fun of me for being a tryhard. Though I suppose the behavioral standards of band kids probably aren’t what she measures herself by, in any case.

“That’s right. It’s game day, everyone. Half dress, no instruments, form up out front for warmups. Let’s go, move it!”

Marcus clapped once, and the entire room burst back into motion. Racks of uniforms rolled out from one of the side rooms, courtesy of the band parents, and were quickly set upon by section leaders.

“Clarinets! I have your uniforms!”

“Saxes! Get over here!”

"Drumline! Come and get 'em!"

“Flutes!"

Alyssa's call cut through the others. Olivia turned to see Alyssa and Naomi, their arms already full of red garment bags. Navigating through the agitated nest of band kids, Olivia managed to reach the pair just as they staked a claim along the far wall. Alyssa hung the bags on some nearby lockers and began thumbing through them.

“Lessee… Naomi, yours is right here… Maggie… Freshmen, yours are on the end!”

The freshmen swarmed the garment bags. The sight reminded her of a pond she used to take the boys to, where frenzied fish breached the surface to eagerly swallow up any food dropped into the water. Even the usually quiet Luna’s expression betrayed a hint of excitement as they retrieved their individual uniforms, and Olivia would be lying if she tried to claim any differently. It wasn’t a novel experience, she’d been through this before, plenty of times. But the atmosphere was more than a little infectious.

Olivia unzipped her own bag and looked inside. Within was a crisp and freshly pressed jacket, half white and half bright red, the two sides separated by a diagonal swoop of gold and maroon. The swoop terminated in a little scarf of matching cloth hanging from one hip of the uniform. Gold accents decorated the collar, neck, and shoulders of the uniform as well.

She lifted the sleeve to inspect it. Up close, the outfit seemed almost a little plain. There was no fine embroidery or subtle detail that became more visible upon closer inspection. In fact, the more she looked, the more it became clear these things had been through a lot. Little areas that had been sewn up or patched after who knew how many years of wear.

But maybe that was only to be expected. After all, these weren’t meant to be seen up close. A marching band was usually seen from afar, meaning any visual elements of the uniform pretty much had to be large and visible. Taken from that perspective, this design worked pretty darn well.

Olivia stopped gawking and retrieved the bright red pants from behind the jacket, sliding them over her shorts. They fit her perfectly, as expected. They’d been fitted just the week before, after all. Then, she and the other flutes hurried outside of the band room.

From there, it was a blur of activity. Marching warmups, music warmups, running through the pep tunes they’d practiced over the past couple weeks, and going over what exactly would happen during the game. Soon enough they were donning their jackets and the tall, plumed hats that went along with them and marching toward the football field, a crowd of band parents and RHS alumni in their wake. It was time for her freshman year’s homecoming game—again.