SAID MEGAN. she was expecting a house full of party guests in less than an hour—and her dad was still screwing in lightbulbs on the front porch. Megan wanted everything stowed away for the party; she didn’t want her dad straddling a ladder on the front porch. “Just finished,” said Megan’s dad, giving the last lightbulb a twist. He looked down at Megan and said, “Hit the switch.” Megan had scheduled the party so that it began at that purple hour, at about dusk. When she did a test-run on the switch, the front of the house glowed with purple lightbulbs, just like the sky. “Excellent,” said Megan. “Even the outside is positively purple.” • • • Matt was in the front hall finishing the last bundle of purple balloons. The archways were decorated in swags of purple crepe-paper streamers. Megan had spruced up the banisters with purple plumes. “Enough purple,” said Matt—between puffs as he inflated what seemed like the bazillionth purple balloon. “Never enough,”
