When we got back home Jen was waiting outside, wearing a bright pink dress with a big matching hat and black heels, holding a pink dog purse with Emmy inside.
"What is she wearing?" I asked, trying to not burst out into laughter.
"I'm not even sure." My dad replied. He wasn't about to laugh, but he was pretty confused. We got out of the car and Jen walked over to meet us.
"Where have you been?!" She asked, then made a disgusted face. "And why are you so dirty?"
"We were stealing car parts." I replied, a dead-serious look on my face. Jen stared at me with wide eyes.
"She's joking, okay." My dad quicky replied with a small smile.
"Why would you even joke about stuff like that?" Jen asked. "Are you trying to be heard and ruin your dad's reputation?"
"Oh, grow a sense of humor and stop being a stuck up bi-" I started but my dad cut me off.
"Okay! Let's go inside!" My dad quickly said, putting his palm over my mouth. Jen, who was even more angry now, quickly protested.
"Actually, I was hoping the two of you could go find something.. nicer.. to put on. We're going to my parent's house for a wedding." Jen said.
"Who's getting married?" My dad asked.
"My sister Jamie." She replied. "She's getting married to a nice man named Ethan."
"Cool." My dad said, going inside the house. I tried to follow him but Jen stopped be at the door, shutting it before I could walk in.
"What are you doing, now?" I asked, irritated and gripping the door handle.
"We need to get one thing clear, kiddo. You will be dressed nicely. Not in some dirty, paint covered outfit." She hissed in my ear. "Now let's go get a dress."
She peeked her head inside the house.
"Rich, we're going shopping!" She called. I heard his faint voice call back, assuming he said okay, she shut the door and got in her car. I gritted my teeth and followed her. The ride to the shopping center was mostly quiet as I mentally made a plan to push Jen out of the car.
"When we get home we're going to have to do something about that weird hair of yours." Jen said and I rolled my eyes.
She pulled into a large parking lot filled with nice, expensive cars. There were several buildings lined up wall-to-wall, all with fancy names. I followed her to one that said "Belle Conception Porter Pour Les Femmes" which, if I was correct, translated "Beautiful Design Wear For Women". But I wasn't quite positive, I wasn't getting a perfect grade in french.
She pulled open the big, clean glass door and I followed her in. The place was very clean. The floor was shiny and smooth, brown hardwood floor. There were rows of beautiful dresses hung up neatly. And a man and a woman at a white marble counter, talking to each other quietly in french as they eyed me suspicously. Insulted, I glared and turned back to followed Jen.
"You look pretty small." She said as she walked to row near the back. "What size are you?"
"Um, like 3 or 4 I think." I replied. Jen thought a moment, then walked a few feet away.
"So from here to the end, those are the dresses that will be your size." She said. There were a lot of dresses, but most of them looked bright. I looked through them and so did Jen, who occasionally held up pink ones.
"Not a chance." I muttered and she rolled her eyes. I held up a black one. It was spaghetti stap and plain, and she stared at me blankly.
"It's a wedding not a funeral." She whispered rudely. I put it back, silently chuckling to myself whenever she got irritated.
