I spent the rest of the morning searching for the fit of the day as a bunch of Frankie's friends arrived one after the other.
By the time we arrived at the spa, my mood had slightly improved—not because I was particularly looking forward to the pampering, but because being out of the house felt like a small victory after the morning I'd had, and of course, I needed the manicure. The driver had dropped us off in front of the entrance, as so did the other of Frankie's friends. The building was sleek with frosted glass doors and gold accents that screamed exclusivity. Frankie and Blanche stepped out before me, chatting excitedly about the treatments they were planning to get.
I followed behind them, adjusting my sunglasses as the cool, lavender-scented air of the spa washed over me. Frankie was a regular here so the receptionist greeted us with a rehearsed smile that didn't quite reach her eyes—probably overworked, poor thing. Frankie did most of the talking, her bubbly enthusiasm was contagious as she confirmed our reservations.
Once everything was sorted, we were led into a private area reserved for VIP clients. She practically skipped ahead, her excitement radiating off her like a neon sign, while Blanche trailed behind, busy scrolling through her phone and casually replying to something another girl said.
We were seven in total.
The first stop was the manicure station. I slid into one of the plush chairs, letting the nail technician fuss over my hands while I inspected the rows of nail polish options. I settled on a deep crimson shade, something bold and classic that would pair well with anything I wore. Also gave her a reference picture I downloaded from Pinterest.
The technician worked quietly, filing and shaping my nails carefully. The girl sitting next to me, had opted for a sparkly pink shade with snows and couldn't stop talking about how "cute" it was. Blanche, of course, went with something muted—beige, maybe? I didn't care enough to check.
When the manicure was done, we moved to the pedicure station. My feet were soaked in warm, scented water, and I leaned back, closing my eyes as the technician massaged my calves. The tension in my body —leg especially because I've a walking a little too much these days— began to ease, but my mind wouldn't shut up; The endless list of things I needed to handle for Aura buzzed around like flies I couldn't swat away.
"This is heaven, My mother came her last week and she wouldn't stop talking about it" Frankie sighed, breaking into my thoughts. She had cucumbers over her eyes and a green face mask smeared across her skin.
"Hmm, How did she find it?" I replied noncommittally, watching as the technician painted my toenails the same crimson shade as my fingers.
"From a lady she follows on IG, I think. She should've asked me. I know a lot of places" The spa treatments stretched on for what felt like hours—facials, massages, the works. By the time we were done, my skin was glowing, my nails were neat. I no longer needed to be paranoid about someone seeing my nail and bursting into laughter because it was chipped. I hate chipped things, they give me another kind of anxiety.
We left the spa and headed straight to Platinum 88, naturally. It wasn't just a store; it was the store, a temple of luxury where exclusivity was part of the price tag. Frankie was practically bouncing with excitement as we walked in, her eyes darting around like a kid in a candy shop.
I took my time, browsing through the racks with carefully, I heard new stuff came in and I didn't plan to miss it. A black cocktail dress caught my attention—it was stunning, with a slit that promised just the right amount of exposure. I held it up to my body, glancing at the mirror, and nodded.
"I'll take this," I told the attendant, who immediately rushed over to carry it for me. "Is Tabitha in?"
"No Miss, she went for an event" The attendant replied.
I nodded.
Blanche was in the corner, eyeing a pair of silver stilettos. She held them up, showing them to Frankie, who squealed in approval.
"They're nice," I said, not looking up from the scarf I was inspecting.
"Nice?" She scoffed. "These are gorgeous."
"Sure," I replied, moving on to the jewelry section.
Frankie, meanwhile, was piling up items like she was on a game show with a time limit. Dresses, shoes, handbags—she wanted everything. And why not? It wasn't like she was paying for it. Our parents were.
After about an hour of trying things on and making final decisions, we headed to the counter. The attendants packed our purchases into glossy black bags with gold lettering, and I handed over my sleek black card without a second thought.
The shopping spree ended with a late lunch at one of the fancy cafes nearby. Frankie was still buzzing, showing off her new shoes to the girls, who pretended to care while sipping on their iced lattes.
As for me, I just sat there, nibbling on a macaron and scrolling through my phone, already planning what to wear for the birthday party and the Sunday night after-party she planned to throw at the school premises. Most of the students wouldn't be invited to her party as she, I and our parents—my mother wanted, only people who were worthy, and high on the social ladder were invited, the last thing we wanted was having the house full with high kids, and you know the kind of immoral things that happen when you invite a bunch of high schoolers to a party, especially in a house with as many rooms as we have.
After lunch we decided to go back home and get ready for the sleepover/slumber party. We still had to get the snacks and games equipment up to the top floor, and I smell like I sell eel at some small outskirt village