"I can't believe you waited until now to buy an outfit for graduation," Gayeon said from outside the dressing room. "You don't leave anything until the last minute. That's my thing."

"True," I replied, pulling my shirt over my head. "But I've been busy. And I told you, I didn't think I needed something new, anyway. My gown will be over whatever I wear."

"At the ceremony." Her voice got closer, along with feet, toes painted red, in platform heels, now just under the door. "But what about all the parties afterward?"

There was that word again. I made a face in the mirror, hearing it.

"And don't think you're getting out of being social this time," she said, as if she had already seen he reaction through the door. "We're making memories, remember?"

Now I groaned aloud, and she laughed. A couple of days earlier, we'd stood in line to pick up our yearbooks during lunch. The books themselves were heavy, with this year's theme embosses in big red letters across the cover: MAKING MEMORIES. It was cheesy and ridiculous, which was why Gayeon had claimed it as our summer rallying cry, starting now. No longer was it enough to Do Things and Make Stuff Happen. It all had to be memorable.

It was also necessary, that I have a new dress for graduation, even though because of work I had more than enough options in my closet. So here I was, at one of Gayeon's favorite stores, only hours before the ceremony, with her twin sisters, Kai and Kathleen - also known as KitKat - bend over her phone bickering as they played a game.

"It's my turn," I heard Kai say. Although they were identical and often dress alike, their voices are different. Kai was loud, while Kathleen was more gentle and soft. She must must have responded, because Kai said, "Okay, but then I get an extra-long one. And your bonus."

"Be quiet, Kai, we're in public," Gayeon told her. There was a noise, and another dress appeared over the top of my dressing room door, this one navy blue. I pulled the first she'd picked, a bright pink dress with a short skirt, off the hanger and stepped into it, reaching behind me for the zipper. One look and I knew it wasn't me, but still, I opened the door.

"Nope," she said from the seat across the dressing rooms. "Too much. I was going for perky, but it's more like startling."

"This is from a person who's basically the brightest thing in the room right now."

She looked down at her yellow romper, which out in the actual sun had almost blinded me. "Yes, but I like color and can therefore pull it off. Try the next one."

"I like color," I mumbled. As I turned back to the room, a salesgirl by the register gave me sympathetic smile.

"My turn!" Kai called. "Now!"

"Work it out or nobody plays," Gayeon told them in a tired voice, then to me, "Try the strapless dress. That's the blue one."

"I know what an strapless is."

"Do you, though?"

I rolled my eyes at my own reflection, reminded again why I always hated being on this side of the dressing room door. I was used to coming shopping with Gayeon, who believed strongly in the power of retail therapy. But things always worked better when I was flipping through magazines waiting for her to model the looks. Our friendship worked because we each knew our strengths, and now I felt like we were both miscast.

The blue dress was better color-wise, but it made my s seem sort of pointy. This seemed strange, however, I went outside without comment.

"Nope, your s look weird." She squinted at them. "Although it is kind of interesting; torpedo-like. You'd get attention."

"That's not the attention I want." I went back to the dressing room, shedding the dress, then eyed my last selection, a plum sheath with a V-neck. "Are you serious with this purple? Really?"

"It's plum, and very much in fashion," she replied. "Put it on."

I did, glancing at my watch as I pulled my arm through. It was 3:30, which meant I didn't have long to stop by my mom's office to check in, then get home and change before meeting her and Wooyoung at school for the ceremony. They were coming straight from a meeting for Julee Oh's wedding, abouch which everything, it seemed, was happening last minute.

Julee was lovely, which was good, because her event, despite Wooyoung's initial confidence, had become your basic wedding planner nightmare. First, the venue - a gorgeous old house with expensive gardens and a pond - had caught on fire just after she deposit on it. Then the caterer she insisted was her only deal breaker in terms of vendors had a nervous breakdown, although not over this wedding. (My mom was not yet convinced of this.) All this would've been bad enough even if her own mother's event - which had gone so well, her son's disappearing act aside; oh how we loved a third wedding! - had not resulted soon after the honeymoon in a separation due to "incompatibility issues." (Even my mom and Wooyoung had been blindsided: they didn't bet on third weddings, feeling that by then you should know what you're doing.) With nine weeks to go, they now found themselves in the busiest part of the wedding season with no venue, no caterer, and a mother of the bride who was even more cynical about the process than they were.

I pulled on the last option Gayeon had chosen for me, slipping it over my head. When I looked in the dressing room mirror, it did seem awfully plum, although I liked the plain yet classic neckline and the way the skirt's hem flared up and out at the bottom. I had just stepped out to see what Gayeon thought when he salesgirl gasped, putting a hand to .

We both looked over. "What's wrong?" Gayeon asked.

She looked up at us, startled, like she'd forgotten we were there. "Sorry. I was just . . . It's the news. There's been a shooting."

I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, hairs raising up. Immediately, Gayeon looked at the twins, who were still absorbed in their game, then then put a hand on my arm. "This one looks good. Who knew plum was your color?"

"What kind of shooting?" I asked the salesgirl, although I could swear I already knew. There was something in her face I recognized.

"I'm sorry," she said again. She dropped her hand, shaking her head. "It's a school. A nearby city. Just breaking news, right now. They don't have any -"

"Come on," Gayeon said, her voice firm as she steered me back into the room, shutting the door behind me. From outside she said, "You don't really need a dress. Like you said, you have tons. Let's just go."

I stood there a second, looking at my reflection. I could see myself blinking, quickly, before I turned away, fingers fumbling to pull the dress over my head. Ignoring the hanger, I left in a heap on the bench in my haste to put my shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops back on and grab my purse. Outside, Gayeon was waiting, reaching down wordlessly to take my hand. As we walked behind the counter, with the twins in tow, the salesgirl was still focused on her computer, and I averted my gaze so I wouldn't see the screen. But I knew what was most likely there, as well as to come. A long shot of the building, maybe with a mascot on the side. People coming out of doors, hands over their heads. The embraces of the survivors, mouths open, caught in wails we were lucky not to hear. And, in the worst case in my own yearbook, lined up neatly, already ghosts.