Charlie had dressed herself in colors commonly found on Jolly Ranchers from the time Catherine Blackwood had handed her the credit card the first time and told her to go pick out a dress herself. She only wore black to funerals. And trials. And school, when absolutely forced.
She stuck a hand out and grabbed another dress and a third before she was locked in the changing room. "It is so! It's more complicated than the weird writhing thing most of the boys do." Her skirt hit the floor, followed by her chambray shirt, and as a placating gesture, she tossed the black dress on first and fluffed her hair. No. Definitely not.
"Sophisticated," she said as she opened the door. "Well?"