Dress for Success!

When Natalie opened Grandma’s present on her twelfth birthday, her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Out of the box came a hot pink summer dress, with a delicate butterfly brooch on the right side. I had never seen such a beautiful dress in my life. It was way better than my yellow one, and way, way better than Natalie’s faded blue one with a button missing.

“Oh, Grandma,” she gushed, “it’s awesome!” She gave Grandma a big hug and trotted to her room to try it on, forgetting about the remaining two unopened presents – mine and Michael’s.

She came back in a jiffy, wearing the dress and her high heeled sandals. Everyone complimented her. She did look cool, I must admit, but I thought that dress would fit me even better. I was dying to try it on. I had just the shoes to go with it too – my hot pink Sunday shoes.

She opened my present, a joke book from the dollar store. I thought she would read at least a few jokes and make everyone laugh, but no. She barely said thank you, and moved on to the next gift: a keychain from our seven-year-old Michael, who received the same polite thank you.

She said thank you again to everyone in the room, and spent the next half hour on the phone with her friend Marcy, describing the dress in details and giggling with glee.

After dinner, I took out my secret stash of Easter candy. I knew Natalie was crazy about jelly beans, so I proceeded to eat some just as she was coming in our room.

“Ooh, can I have some?” she begged, holding out a hand. Hers were long gone. It’s a wonder she stays so slim, eating candy like she does.

“Maybe, maybe not. It depends if you let me try on your dress.”

“My new dress? No way! You would probably ruin it with your sticky hands. Besides, it wouldn’t fit you. You’re only ten, and this is size twelve.”

“Aw, come on! I’m almost as tall as you, see?” I stepped towards her with my hand on my head, ready to measure.

“Get away from me,” she said, backing up. “You’re eating candy. Your hands are sticky.”

“My hands are clean, Missy!” I snapped. I watched her walk out of the room. I was fuming!

She won’t have it on forever, I thought. I can always try it on when she’s not there. I smiled, remembering she had a soccer game the next evening.

All day at school, I thought about that dress. In geography, I colored my map with a hot pink highlighter. I drew little butterflies in my math workbook while the teacher explained about fractions. During English class, I wrote a poem about a superstar wearing a hot pink dress. I was really describing how I pictured myself with it.

Finally, school was over. Natalie was preparing her gym bag when I got home. I pretended reading a magazine, turned the TV on and off, and brushed my dog lazily. I couldn’t wait for her to leave.

Mom came back from work and rushed Natalie into putting her shoes on, as usual. It takes her forever to put on her high tops.

“Come on, Margaret, get ready to go.”

“Me?” I said, sitting straight. “Why?”

“It’s the last game of the season. We need to support your sister’s team and cheer. Michael and Daddy will join us there.”

I grumbled, hopped in my flip flops, and walked to the car.

Just as we arrived at the gym, I saw something very disturbing. Someone else was wearing the same dress as Natalie’s. Hot pink, butterfly brooch, everything was identical. Except for the size. The girl was – like – very substantial. The dress fitted horribly on her. Add greasy hair and crooked teeth to that – you get the picture. Not classy.

“Hey, Natalie,” I whispered. “Isn’t that your dress?”

She followed my gaze, gasped, and turned around, shading her eyes.

“That’s the girl I always make fun of at school! I can’t wear the same dress as her.” She winced. “You can have my dress. She doesn’t know you. You’ll probably never cross her path again.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I don’t really like it that much. I just wanted to try it on.”

Funny how such a strong wish can evaporate almost instantly.