The Princess Wears Flannel and Boots?

2: Maybe

By the time I got to my room, Mom had already picked out my clothes. I locked my door to prevent her barging in and quickly washed up again, raked my hair roughly with a brush, then dressed.

I gaped at myself in the mirror. I had grown a lot during the summer. This dress had been bought for my graduation, and it still fit in all the important ways, but it had once covered my knees modestly. Now it was a turqoise minidress that halted mid thigh!

"Holy crow, I can't wear this!" I dived back into my closet, deseperate to find a better fitting dress. I held them up to me one by one and realized with a dawning horror that they would all fit me even shorter than this one. Had I really not bought any new dresses or skirts all summer?!

"Beta!" Mom shouted up the stairs. "Beta, come down!" She sounded impatient.

Reluctantly, I pulled the dress hem as far down as possible but every time I move, it rode up further.

"Beta!"

"Coming, Ma!" I shouted back. Quickly, I pinned back the front of my hair- no time to deal with the wavy creases left in it by the braid-, put on my time turner necklace to hopefully distract from my dress situation, slipped on my sparkly silver flats and was out the door.

I met my mom in the small hallway between the stairs and the living area where she fussed over me, chiding my dress length no matter how many times I tried to tell her the situation. She brushed back my hair one more time, then kissed my cheek and said in her heavy Indian accent, "You're beautiful, but be good."

Before I could argue, she hip checked me out of the hallway and into the living room where everyone stood to greet me.

Holy crow, they were all impossibly good looking.

"Ah, Beta," my grandmother beckoned me over. Of course she was arranging this. I stood by her side while she introduced everyone to me.

The names of their parents flew past me, but not their faces. He was taller than Pop and I thought Pop was the tallest man in the world. His skin, hair, and eyes were dark but he was smiling with impossibly straight teeth and telling me they had heard my music and were impressed. She was shorter with soft curves that filled out her black and white dress, skin as dark as her husband's but her hair bright red. She shook my hand and told me I was beautiful.

Them, however. Them I remembered.

Safiya was tall as I was, but I was flat and lean and she was shapely in the right way. Her legs seemed to be miles long even in black ballet flats. The red silk dress she wore made me jealous- but was I jealous of her in the dress? Or the dress on her? Like her father, she had black hair and it rippled down her back in a shiny, pin straight sheet.

Aruna was just as impossible as his sister. His hair was red and coiffed perfectly and like his father, he dwarfed me. I barely stood at his shoulder! He was lean, and even though he wore a suit to cover him head to toe, I saw the fine lines of lean muscle peeking out from his collar. An athlete, maybe. His hands were hot and rough as we greeted each other with a handshake.

Then, as if I couldn't be any more floored, they smiled at me in unison and I felt my legs go wobbly and a heat rise from my gut to flood my ears and surely turn me bright red. Safiya's lips were painted red and glossy. Aruna's were shapely and had a scar on the left side. I couldn't feel my legs anymore.