Up till then, I thought my sister’s wedding, and her sugar-brained idea of what I was supposed to do in it, would just go away, you know? She was always breaking up with guys, so what made this Mark whatshisface any different? I hadn’t been paying much attention. But what I saw in the Tuxedos and More store woke me up so fast I freaked. “I’m not! I won’t! You can’t do this to me!” I yelled when they brought out my “ensemble”: shiny black buckle shoes like Christopher Robin going to visit Winnie-the-Pooh, and white stockings, short pants with black ribbon bows at the knees, a little bitty black jacket with tails, a white shirt with ruffles, and I’m thirteen years old, for gosh sake. “Ewww! I’d rather be the flower girl!” “Hush up, Avery Alexander.” Mom’s use of my first and middle name signaled an orange level of alert for potential parental terrorism. Quick, I checked Dad, but the look on his face didn’t belong there. My father’s all about taking charge, so why did he seem, like, helpless?
What do You think about The Most Mauve There Is (2013)?
