King of Her Desire

49

I couldn't stop laughing. And it felt sooo good after all the drama. Seriously.

Sochi did this little runway walk and pivot to make me laugh even harder, too. And Gerri was wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard for so long. I think we just needed to get silly about something. Little kid silly, you know? When you just laugh to laugh.

And Gerri said, "See, I didn't get it when you told me about it. But oh my God—this is going to be the best thing, ever!"

I said, "Good," and then looked back at Sochi and me in the mirror and busted out laughing again. She looked like a piñata. No joke.

I mean, I'd seen dresses like the one she had on that were actually really sweet and princess-y. But this one looked like if the mice in Cinderella had been on acid or something when they were making her that ball gown.

It was this big old ruffly, rainbow-colored Quinceanera dress that we found in a thrift store possibly because whoever made it didn't stop to think that some poor young girl was going to have to actually try to walk in that hoop skirt.

Thing was so many kinds of wrong in so many places. And the bustier top was so stiff it sort of sat up on its own and knocked Sochi's poor boobs every which way.

And I'd found one of those really cheesy baby blue tuxes with the navy trim, matching cummerbund, ruffly shirt—oh my fucking God it was awful. The sibs almost peed themselves laughing when they saw me in it. Cody just stood there shaking his head and going, "Duuuuuude..."

"She has to have the crazy bangs that stick straight up, though," Gerri told Sochi. "How do we do that without messing up all that gorgeous hair?"

"Oh, you just wait. Wanda gave us everything we need," I said. "The hair spray may kill us--where do we hide all this shit, though? I mean, we're gonna have to change and switch cars—"