"Um, I'm okay," she said with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you dressed?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I've been asking myself the same question."

At that, Nina burst into laughter. "Oh, Marcie, you are so funny!"

---

 

7. First Prize Is An Old Nightgown
 

"We are the Amazons," Mirina said. "Our motto is that we are the best that life has to offer."

She paused, waiting for my reaction. At first, I was simply shocked. Then, I was appalled. And finally, I realized that *that* was the reaction Mirina was after. She gave her eyebrows a bounce and smiled.

"You think I'm being awful," Mirina continued, watching my face as she spoke. "But I assure you it's not a declaration based in vanity or delusion. We know that there are girls who are more beautiful than us, more graceful than us, more intelligent than us." At that last phrase, she looked at Wiggy, who had her head down as she looked through her bag.

Wiggy later told me that she'd heard this speech a thousand times. In fact, thinking back, I remembered that as Mirina spoke, all of the Amazons had a sort of expressionless look. Now (having heard the speech a dozen times myself) I know they were trying to hide their boredom.

"The point is, we are striving to be the best. It's our goal in training, and our motivation when we compete. We don't compete to win; we win as a by-product of our excellence."

Knickers — who I later found is Mirina's lieutenant — added, "And so, we're national champs!"

"Yes," Mirina coolly acknowledged. "We won this year's national small-squad competition. This trip is our reward, as well as a team-building activity."

"Great," I commented. "Congratulations. And thanks for including me. I really appreciate it."

"You ought to thank Bubbles, who couldn't come," Mirina replied. "She was the one who thought of you, and graciously gave up her place for you."

"Oh, I will," I said, fumbling for words and glowing red with embarrassment. "I already asked Wiggy for her address."

I *had* — you know I had — but even so, Mirina made me feel like a mannerless clod — as thought I'd have never thought of thanking Bubbles myself.

"Yes, Wiggy," Mirina echoed. "I'm happy to see that you and she have hit it off so well. Of course, we're all glad that you can be here and enjoy this little vacation, but there will be some activities and events that are strictly for Amazons. Since you're not one of us, you won't be allowed to participate. You and Wiggy can keep each other company."

---

"She's not *too* full of herself, is she?" I said in a undertone to Wiggy, once we were settled on the plane. Wiggy had chosen the last two seats on the left in first class. No one was behind us, and no Amazons were in front of us. Clever girl! She also asked whether I "minded" sitting by window. Minded? Ha! I was glad to!

Wiggy shrugged. She was busy, gently scratching her head in a thorough and business-like way. "Everybody's got their quirks. Even you. Even me."

"I guess."

She twisted up her mouth and eyed me critically. "You look exhausted, Marcie. If you fall asleep, do you want me to wake you up for meals or anything?"

"No," I said, as I experimented with my seat. "How much does this seat recline? Whoa!" The back of the seat went down so far it was like lying in bed. As the back went down, the leg rest came up. "Oh! There's a leg rest? Wow, this is luxury!"

Wiggy grinned. "The Amazons always fly first class."

"Lucky you," I said. "But, if I fall asleep — no, don't wake me up for anything until we land. I'm sorry I won't be sociable, but I had a rough night last night."

"It sounds like you've had a rough couple weeks," she commented.

"I guess," I said, and unleashed a huge yawn. "Sorry!"

"No problem," she smiled. "We'll have plenty of time to get acquainted on the ship and the island."

"Is there an island?" I asked.

"Yeah! Oh, that's right, you don't know anything about the trip!"

"I know that we change planes in Hawaii, right?"

"Yes."

"Ummm," I said, wrapping my blanket around me. "That's all I need to know for now."

"Sweet dreams," Wiggy said. "Oh, you know what? I'll wake you before we start to land, so you have time to go the bathroom before they make us stay in our seats."

"Ah," I said, smiling, "I can see you're a seasoned traveler."

She nodded knowingly, then said, "Night-night!"
 

---

 

I closed my eyes, and immediately felt myself sinking. From that point on, there was no turning back: I couldn't have opened my eyes if I wanted to.

I sank down as if I weighed a thousand pounds and the seat was made of foam... I sank through clouds... real clouds, then clouds of mashed potatoes, of whipped cream and huge sheets of sheer shining silk, milky fog, beds of tofu that bent and broke and disappeared beneath me... endless miles of foam... foam like the bubbles in a bubble bath... endless thick, foamy piles of tiny bubbles...

A soft, silent whiteness in infinite supply...

I kept on sinking, down, down, down, into the milky silence, lit by a diffuse glow from somewhere far above. There were sounds — brief, muted — like flashing thoughts that left no trace.

Then came another sound... a gentle, constant sound... like the sound of the ocean: the roar of waves as they approached, soft thunder as they broke nearby and continued breaking and falling all along the beach, reducing at last to a soft, effervescent hiss. Over and over, waves rolled in and broke and hissed, in perfect rhythm as I breathed in and out.

I'd never fallen asleep this way: knowing that I was drifting deeper and deeper into slumber; watching one world let go of me and another world wrap itself around me.

For a moment, I was still aware of myself in my seat on the airplane, fully reclined with my feet up, wrapped in a light woolen blanket with a pillow under my head. I heard Wiggy turn the page of a magazine. I pictured her next to me, legs tucked underneath her, wire-rimmed glasses on her nose, lips pursed in thought.

We're already roommates, I thought, with me asleep like this.

I snuggled, burrowing deeper into the seat with my shoulders and hips, and out of me came a long, deeply satisfied sigh. For the first time in weeks and weeks, I relaxed. I let go. I let go of everything... and God! I was SO tired. Mom had been right about my tension... I felt its grip on me loosening... the tightness began to thaw and melt...

All the things that bothered me, all the things that worried me, all the things that frightened me... they all fell away. I dropped them out the window of the plane and watched them fall. They disappeared into the clouds below us.

Finally, I was gone: far from Flickerbridge, far from flashing cameras, bright lights, shouted questions, and reporters. Far from Grace Gifford and her favorite actress. Far away from Officer Strange and the bad things that had happened to me.

I escaped.
 

---

 

When you're asleep, you're not aware of time. It passes, it doesn't pass, it's all the same. I'd fallen into deep, unconscious, undreaming sleep, and had no idea how long I'd been out. Five minutes? Five hours? Five days? Five years? An instant, an eternity. When you're asleep, you can't tell.

As I slowly came to, as I woke up, groggy, everything was different.

I don't know how I could tell. My eyes were still closed, but... something — the world — had changed.

For one thing, my blanket was gone. As I groped for it, I realized that my arms were bare. Had I rolled up my sleeves in my sleep?

I ran my hands up my arms to pull my sleeves back down. My fingers slid all the way up to my shoulders. My sleeves were entirely gone, and at my shoulders I found lace!

Shocked, I opened my eyes and looked down at myself. My clothes were completely different! Rather than a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top, I was dressed in a well-worn, long but sleeveless nightgown. It was white and clean, but soft from countless years of wear. Here and there were holes, some mended, some not. Looks like I'm wearing Cinderella's hand-me-downs, I said to myself.

My clothes were not the only thing that changed: I was no longer lying on my airplane seat. I was on a couch. A couch I knew, but couldn't place at the moment.

And in front of me stood a Christmas tree...

I wasn't on the plane any more, that was for sure. What was going on? Had I blacked out? Had they carried me from the plane, unconscious, to this house, to this room?

But wait... I know this place... I know it very well!

Although I'd never seen it with a Christmas tree before...

The room was a living room. And not just any living room, but the living room of the Auburn's house, in Tierson, California!

Whoa! Now this was a mystery! The last thing I knew, I was on a plane to Hawaii, sitting in first class next to Wiggy, with eight of the Amazons and two of their teachers.

Here I was, apparently a single moment later, waking up in the living room of my old boyfriend's house, dressed in a old nightgown. I ran my hand through my hair. Even without a mirror, I could tell it had that slept-on look. I sat up and wondered what day it was.

From the sun's angle through the living-room windows, I figured it was morning, maybe about nine o'clock. There were sounds in the kitchen, and I could hear Mrs. Auburn talking. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but I didn't hear anyone answer her, so she had to be talking on the phone.

I took a deep breath and tried to search my memory. Had I slept here last night? It sure looked that way, but why would I do that? And why on the couch? And yet, if I *had* slept on the couch, why weren't there any sheets or blankets? I shivered a little, for no particular reason.

Just then, Nina Auburn walked in from the kitchen. She was wearing a cute dress, but she looked a little over-dressed: Her dress was white with light blue trim, and its skirt belled out as though she was wearing petticoats.

"Hi, Nina," I said. "How's my favorite little girl?"

"Um, I'm okay," she said with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you dressed?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I've been asking myself the same question."

At that, Nina burst into laughter. "Oh, Marcie, you are so funny!"

"Thanks, I guess."

Now that I was more awake, I was more alarmed. Nina obviously wasn't completely surprised to see me in her house. Which meant — if this wasn't a dream... if this was really happening — I must have had a memory lapse. For the moment, I couldn't think of any other explanation. But what an alarming thought!

Then again, the lapse, the forgetting... it might only be temporary... I *had* just woken up... It would probably all come back to me in a little bit. I decided to act natural and try to go along with whatever happened, and see where that took me. I wasn't in danger; I was with people I knew and liked and trusted. If I had some sort of problem, I'm sure they'd tell me.

So why didn't I remember?

Nina's eyes twinkled as she looked at the old nightgown I was wearing. "You really like that old thing, don't you?"

I plucked at the soft, worn fabric. It seemed very comfortable and familiar... like something I half-remembered. "Yeah, I guess."

"Mom says that one day that nightgown will get so old, it will fall to pieces while you're wearing it. Can that really happen? Can clothes get so old that they fall apart? All at once?"

This was odd: why would Mrs. Auburn comment on my nightgown? Then I remembered: it wasn't my nightgown. "Um... I don't think so, Nina. I think they'd wear and rip and get little holes here and there."

Nina stuck her finger through a hole in the cloth, near my belly button. "Like this?"

I paused and considered how to react. I like Nina. She's a nice little girl, but I found her gesture a little too familiar. Gently I took her hand and pulled it away from my stomach.

She didn't seem to mind my gesture... she just took her hand back. Then she smiled and asked me quietly, "Marcie, seriously! Why aren't you ready? Why are you still in your night clothes?"

"I don't know... I guess... um... well, I don't know where my day-clothes are, for starters. Do you know?"

Nina grinned. It seemed like everything I said this morning made her laugh. "Your day-clothes? Do you mean your best dress? How could you not know where it is? Did Cassie hide it, so you'd get in trouble? If she did, Mom is going to be so mad! I mean, mad at her, not at you."

Hide my dress? Why would Cassie hide my dress? And why wasn't I wearing it, in the first place? I looked around the room, hoping to find something... anything... that might explain my predicament. Nina was a smart ten-year-old, but I was beginning to feel that I could talk to her all day without ever getting a clue as to what was going on.

I decided to use a direct approach.

"Nina, what's going on?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "What are you talking about? What's going on with what?"

"How long have I—"

At just that moment, Cassie descended the stairs. When she saw me, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know," I replied truthfully, but my response seemed to increase her indignation.

Cassie walked around the couch until she was almost directly in front of me. Taking a handful of my hair, she said, in a tone of shocked disbelief, "You haven't even taken a shower!" Then her eyes went to my nightgown. "And you're not only not dressed, you're wearing that ratty old nightgown! When are you going to throw that thing away?"

I was speechless for a moment, and searched for some kind of answer. "I wasn't sure if the shower was free," I told her.

"Oh!" she gasped, in a tone that said I can't believe what an IDIOT you are! Cassie glanced at the kitchen. Mrs. Auburn hadn't yet appeared. It sounded like she was still on the phone.

"Come with me," Cassie hissed, and grabbed my arm. She pulled me off the couch and toward the stairs.

"Ouch! You're hurting me!" I told her.

"Shut up, you knucklehead! I'm *helping* you! Mom is going to flip if she sees you like this!"

There didn't seem to be anything else to do but follow. I probably should have been getting ready, not sleeping on the couch.

I noticed that Cassie, like Nina, was dressed up. Cassie was wearing her SBD: her Simple Black Dress. Still, for a simple dress, it was fairly sophisticated. I didn't have a lot of time to study her outfit, though, because once we got upstairs, she roughly pushed me into one of the bedrooms, but kept her grip on my arm.

It was obvious a girl's room. I assumed it was Cassie's, since I'd seen Nina's room and it was nothing like this.

Like I said, it was a girl's room, but it was messy. There were clothes and books and shoes and... things... everywhere. There was so much disorder, it was hard to walk or find a place to stand. I couldn't believe a girly girl like her could live in a room like this. The walls were white and a little dirty in places, and in one corner I saw some sticks for field hockey and lacrosse.

I stumbled on the piles of clothes and shoes as Cassie propelled me toward a door. She didn't stop or even slow up, so I had to dance a bit to keep my footing.

Cassie, still holding my arm, opened the door. It led to a shared bathroom. The door on the other end of the bathroom was open into another girl's room. I couldn't see much of it, but it was more the sort of room I imagined Cassie would have. Three girls? I asked myself.

Somehow I understood that — for some reason — I was staying with the Auburns. This messy room had to be an extra room, a guest room. Maybe some other girl, a fourth girl, was staying in this room?

I couldn't quite put it together.

Cassie opened the hand that gripped my arm, and used it to give me a shove toward the bathroom. "Shower," she commanded.

I looked at her fearfully. She didn't seem to be going anywhere, and that was a problem. There was no way I was going to undress in front of her.

"I will," I said, "as soon as you leave."

Cassie frowned. "You should have taken a shower hours ago. I want to see you get in there and start washing!"

"No," I protested. "I need my privacy."

"OH!" she shouted. "Why are you always such an idiot!?"

"What did *I* do?" I demanded. "Why are you treating me like this? And what do you mean, always?"

Cassie rolled her eyes, as if to say I don't have time for this!, and with a resounding smack!, she slapped me on the butt!

"Eee-ow!" I cried in pain and surprise. "Have you lost your mind?"

"GET-IN-THE-SHOWER!" Cassie barked, and moved to slap me on the hindquarters a second time. I quickly shifted and put my backside out of her reach, carefully covering both cheeks with my hands.

She feinted left, then right, and suddenly grabbed my nightgown near my hips with both hands. Working her fingers, she was rapidly gathering the length of it into her fists. I looked down and saw the hemline flying up my legs. She was going to pull the nightgown right off me!

I grabbed her hands and pushed down. I had to keep myself covered! "Stop!" I shouted. "What are you doing!?"

She set her teeth and pulled on my clothes. "I'm trying to get you ready! What is WRONG with you!?"

Cassie was pulling up. I was pushing down. She wanted to grab as much nightgown as she could. I tried to open her hands so she'd drop what she'd taken. She wanted the nightgown off over my head. I wanted it covering me up. She held my nightgown, I held her wrists. She pulled, I pushed, both of us straining with with all of our strength.

I took a step to try to get away, and the two of us began moving, with heavy, awkward steps, through the cluttered room, locked in our vertical tug-of-war. Grunting and struggling, we must have made quite a picture: Cassie, dressed to the nines, hair and makeup just so; me, in a worn old nightgown, no makeup, hair like a rat's nest. Nina watched wide-eyed, but I had the strange feeling that she'd seen this sort of battle before. She moved to the relative safety of the hallway.

"Cassie! CASSIE! Stop!" I cried, as I tried to get away from her and keep her from pulling off my clothes.

"You have to get ready!" she hotly insisted. "I should just rip this stupid thing off you!"

"Stop! Stop! STOP!" I cried. "Are you CRAZY?"

"Crazy!?" she repeated in disbelief. "You're calling ME crazy? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

We shifted across the room, which was a difficult thing in itself. A lot of my struggle was just to keep upright. There were so many piles of clothes and... well, junk, on the floor, that it was hard to not trip and fall over. Clearly, Cassie was aiming at that. She was pushing me, so I was moving backward, and had to keep turning my head this way and that. Cassie wanted me to fall. If I fell, I was pretty sure she'd get my nightgown off.

Every so often, she let go of the nightgown to deliver a stinging slap to my derriere. I couldn't let go of the gown to cover my butt! My face was red with exertion and embarrassment. I had no idea why we were fighting, but this was a fight I could not afford to lose.

Unfortunately, Cassie was bigger and stronger than me. She's an attractive girl — she could easily be a model — and was quite feminine in every way, but she also has muscles and determination. If this contest went on much longer, I was sure she would win. What could I do?

I tried to beg. "Cassie... Cassie," I gasped. "Just let me go into the bathroom and shut the door and I'll get right into the shower. Okay?"

"No!" she replied, "I don't believe you! You'll lock yourself in there and stare at yourself in the mirror for an hour! I want to see... uh! you... uh! uh! — get this stupid thing OFF! I want to see you in the shower, washing!" (The uhs were failed attempts to swat my backside.)

Things was getting both desperate and ridiculous. It suddenly struck me that my only hope was to go for broke and try to tackle her. Maybe if I could get on top of her, I could pin her down and reason with her? Was there a way I could put her own dress and hair in peril, and turn the tables?

While I tried to come up with a strategy, Cassie got a few more cracks in. My derriere was beginning to sting. By now, I had enough. Time to use my secret weapon.

I took a big deep breath and let out my loudest, highest, most piercing scream. Wide-eyed, Cassie froze.

I thought I'd won, until Mrs. Auburn's voice came from the doorway.

"Girls! What in the world are you doing?"

Wide-eyed, wild, and panting, I looked into her face.

Cassie, I noticed, still looked perfect, and Nina was peeking around her mother.

"Oh, Marcie!" Mrs. Auburn said, shaking her head. "What in the world am I going to do with you?"

I was never less prepared to answer a question.

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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