The clock chimed, signaling the next step in our carefully scripted lives.

“It’s time, it’s time,” Calla said, squealing loudly. She jumped up and took my hands, spinning me around and around until we were both dizzy. Laughing, we staggered back inside the house. Calla started peeling her clothes off as we dashed to our room. She was half-naked by the time she opened our bedroom door. When she burst into the room, she stopped suddenly just a few feet later. My eyes followed her gaze to two black garment bags that hung from hooks on the wall near our dressing tables. Each bag had our name embroidered on the outside, and I was struck by how this simple touch reminded me of toe-tags I’d seen on bodies in bad horror movies.

3

Preparations

While Calla raced ahead and eagerly yanked her garment bag off the wall, I approached mine as if it were a landmine. I removed the bag, then gingerly set it on my bed. Holding my breath, I unzipped it and was shocked to find not one, but two gowns. There were identical in every way, except for their color. One was emerald green, the color I’d become so accustomed to wearing. The other was a pearly white.

A wedding dress.

“Go ahead,” Calla prodded.

She had already slipped into her sunny-yellow gown, and was squirming to pull the zipper up her back. The sight of her turning around and around like a puppy chasing its tail was too much for me. Laughing, I moved closer to her.

“Hold still,” I said. I pulled the zipper up, then latched the eyehook at the top.

Calla took out the clips that held her hair in loose pin curls. She fluffed her hair as it fell around her shoulders. Mysterious feelings of pride for my adopted sister surged through me. “You are absolutely stunning.”

She giggled her tinkling-glass laugh. “Thanks, sister. Well, don’t just stand there; let’s see yours on then.” Calla skipped over to my bed, and removed the green ball gown. Against my protests, she began pulling my shirt over my head.

“Okay. Okay,” I said, removing my clothes. “I can dress myself, you know.”

Calla ignored me, holding my gown open so I could step into it. “Close your eyes.” She turned me around to zip it before nudging me closer to the mirror. “Hang on.” Calla put her hands on my shoulders, turning me this way and that until she was satisfied. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

Is that even me? I thought, gazing at the pretty girl in the mirror.

To say this gown fit me like a glove was a misnomer. It fit like a second skin, simultaneously showing every curve while hugging my flat stomach. Even though there was no plunging neckline, no slit on the leg, I felt over-exposed.