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Prelude
In the summer of our eighteenth year, four months before we entered our freshman year at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, Ami Daishi and I spent the day with a group of future supermodels enjoying Disneyland. I was euphoric because I’d got to drive Ami’s brand new Porsche Boxster, which had been an obligatory graduation present from her father with whom she was not on speaking terms, to the Magic Kingdom.

Ami’s folks lived on separate coasts and Hana Shannon used to fly to New York City to take care of business for her company, DaishiWorks, and to visit her husband who owned a spacious penthouse apartment in one of Manhattan’s pricier buildings. As a result Hana’s trips, Ami and her sister Jun lived with my mother and me for extended periods of time. Ami and I shared a room and Jun stayed in the smaller room next to my mother’s bedroom.

Ami and I spent the majority of our high school years together growing to become more a couple of sisters than merely best friends. I know everything about Ami, and she knows most things about me. What she doesn’t know is that I used to sneak Girl Scout cookies and Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream. But don’t tell her. Please?

Anyway, this is the story of Ami’s life as told through my eyes. And I don’t know anyone who is better equipped to tell you about Ami Daishi than me her best friend.
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Introduction
My name is Meghan Louise Johnson and I should start off by telling you that I absolutely adore the Internet. It was on the web that I learned about The Future Supermodels of America and it had become one of my most favorite chat rooms of all time. It was there that teen-aged girls could send out digital pictures of their various prom gowns and holidays dresses to get an honest critique in a positive manner from other girls.

The group facilitator was Elizabeth Goode (she was twenty-five years of age and not much older than many of the future supermodels) promised that the Magic Kingdom soirée would be an experience no one would soon forget.
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Chapter 1
Monday, April 2, 2001

It didn’t surprise me that I received confirmation that Ami and I would be among the girls chosen to partake in the Disneyland affair. We would officially be among the group of Elizabeth Goode’s “goode girls”.

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To: Meghan Louise Johnson
From: Elizabeth Marie Goode
Subject: Future Supermodels of America Day at Disneyland

If you need a good place to find a designer dress at a reasonable price, check out Noir Vestire. They are located in Hillcrest across the street from Pyramid Books on University Avenue and Vermont Street. They’ll give you a great deal! Just tell them that Elizabeth sent you!

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As I read my email to Ami I said that it sounded like a lot of fun. Ami said that although the whole thing sounded nice she was perplexed by the complicated list of rules and regulations. She was also mystified as to how anyone would want to subject herself to wearing a mini-dress and high-heels to Disneyland.

When she turned on her computer a letter identical to mine was in her goodegirls.com account. She read the letter again to herself and began talking in a whining little girl voice. When she talked whiny like that it usually meant that she was feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

“How could you sign me up without first asking me, Meghan?”

“I knew it would be fun, sweetie.”

“I don’t now. What if I… uh… what if we don’t live up to Mrs. Goode’s criteria? What if…”

“What if? Sweetie, come on. We’ll have fun. Besides, we’re guaranteed a free day at Disneyland! What do we really have to lose?”

“I don’t know… maybe our dignity. When was the last time anyone had any fun at Disneyland wearing a little black dress and stiletto heels, Meghan? We’ll be amusements. People will be looking up our dresses trying to see if we’re wearing panties or not. Besides, it’ll be creepy.”

“But think of the excitement!”

“Excitement?”

“We just might get to be in Elle magazine!”

“In a place like Disneyland, you’re supposed to dress like a tourist having a lot of fun not like some little princess hamming it up to get her picture in an over-hyped fashion magazine. Don’t get me wrong, Meghan, I love showing off my body… you know that… I just try to keep from doing that when I’m trying to enjoy the climb up Tarzan’s Tree House. Stilettos just aren’t for climbing trees, you know.”

“Come on, Ami, it won’t be that bad. Besides, isn’t your mother always telling you that there’s a first time for everything?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Ami? This has got to be the ultimate once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Uh…well…”

It took me a little more time to sell Ami on the idea of parading her beautiful body around Disneyland, and when she finally gave in I spent the next couple of days reinforcing the fact that this was going to be fun.

Needless to say, it worked and Ami warmed to the idea. From that point on, there was no curbing her enthusiasm. She was a girl bent on one mission: to be the best damned future supermodel that ever visited the happiest place on earth.
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Chapter 2
Friday, April 27, 2001

The week leading up to our trip was occupied with finding the perfect dress. Ami suggested that we purchase identical garments and I thought that that was a good idea. We searched several stores but eventually found ourselves at Elizabeth Goode’s first recommendation, Noir Vestire, a clothing salon in the Hillcrest area.

Noir Vestire wasn’t exactly what Ami and I expected. It was more! The boutique took a Henry Ford approach to marketing. The customer could acquire any item of clothing she desired as long as it came in black. And since black was the only color stocked in the boutique we sought out our dresses and found one that we both liked. We bought a few items aside from our dresses and took them home with us. However, we had to come back for the dresses the next day since the store didn’t have two size-twos.

When we did get the dresses home we slipped them on and checked ourselves out in the mirror. After we were sure that we liked what we saw we dabbed on a little makeup and asked my mother to take a digital picture of us. I sent Elizabeth an instant-message and she e-mailed me a reply faster than I ever thought possible.

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To: Meghan Louise Johnson
From: Mrs. Elizabeth Marie Goode
Subject: You are absolutely, adorably sexy!

Dear Meghan,

I love your look and Ami’s too! You are absolutely and without a doubt the two most divine creatures that I’ve ever laid my eyes on! The dresses are adorable, but you girls are what make them what they are! Have you ever modeled together? I ask this only because you really could! You’ve got a look I honestly believe that no one can resist.

Identical dresses? Marvelous!

You should expect many more girls similarly attired when you arrive at Disneyland on Saturday. Some girls might even be more daring, but I definitely love your look and Ami’s!

Adieu to you!
Elizabeth Marie Goode
GoodeGirl Enterprises

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We were fifteen-years-old when my mother christened Ami and me “twin sisters”. And why shouldn’t she have done so? We were, after all, nearly the same height, the same weight and wore the exact same dress size, We even had identical hairstyles. When it came right down to it, we really should have been natal sisters... clones, maybe!

Ami and I were Christmas babies born one minute apart on separate sides of America. Ami was the first to arrive, delivered by the hand of second-year pediatrician Doctor Sandra Hart at 6:30am in San Diego. I was born at 9:31am in New York City thousands of miles away.
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Robert Shannon met Hana Daishi when she was a junior at Patrick Henry High School. She had been a hostess at the Old Globe Theater in Balboa Park on the day he attended Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

Robert was four years Hana's senior but they fell madly in love and married two days after her graduation. Hana gave birth to her first child on her eighteenth birthday. Jun was born a year after after her sibling, also on Christmas Day.

Robert Shannon was in Law School throughout much of his girls’ formative years. His law studies kept him from spending much time with Hana and his kids.

When he got an internship as a law clerk he briefly moved his family to New York City but they moved back to San Diego when the law firm required his expertise in regional entertainment law.

Robert did so well with the San Diego assignment that he was moved back to New York City but Hana remained in San Diego with her children while they finished their education.

Throughout much of middle school Ami flew to New York frequently to see her father. Oftentimes she would go with her mother and little sister, but most of the time she went alone.

Ami's trips to visit her father were terminated shortly after her sixteenth birthday and she hadn’t seen her father since.
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Ami is naturally much prettier than me. Her gleaming raven-black hair had reached to the small of her back at one time and barely concealed a butterfly tattoo that is identical to mine and defines our eternal sisterhood. Here eyes are a pretty brown somewhere between topaz and cinnamon and her complexion is an olive-tinged alabaster.

Our friends chastise Ami because of her skin but I believe that she is the most incredibly adorable and sexy human being that I know and certainly much more alluring than any of them.

Ami has a body that seems more a cliché than flesh-and-bone reality: she measures 34-24-34; she stands 5’6” tall; she is a natural D-cup; she is totally blemish-free; and she looks smashing in a bikini or out of one.

Even when she indulges in her absolutely favorite Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream she never gains a pound. Ami adores ice cream just about as much as she adores her mother.

On the other hand, I’m a Heinz 57 girl with a very liberal dash of soy sauce. I am, in this order: Irish/Scotch/Japanese/Kenyan/Welsh. Now how’s that for internationality? Is that even a word?

My hair, which is auburn when I don’t dye it. Mine also touches the small of my back and you can barely see my tattoo either.

My complexion is marred by tiny freckles, which I hate with a passion. My mother says that they are the Irish in me but I just wish that they’d go away. My eyes are nutmeg in coloration and my lips are full and pouting, doubtlessly due to my African heritage. My skin is a light mocha almond.

I also absolutely adore ice cream. However, if I just think about eating as much of it as Ami does I would literally become a cow on the spot. You could get out your stool and milk me on the spot! As a consequence, I have to watch how much Ben and Jerry’s or Baskin Robbins I eat. I’ve been able to maintain my one-hundred-ten-pounds-soaking-wet physique only by watching what I eat.