My Knights in Shining Armor

Celia's Pink Dress From "The Help"

A/N Hey Patricia, I posted :)

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Anne helps me tidy up the house while I pick up the things I want to take with me and put them all in a pile. I blatantly ignore my mom's things that are scattered around the house, because if I acknowledge it, I'll just be reminded of what I never get to have again.

I'm not looking to break down in tears at the moment.

Nevertheless, I can't stop myself from thinking about the last time I was in this house. The night Mom left for a night shift. The night I was all by myself. The night the officers rang my doorbell and my world turned upside down.

Stop it, I chide myself.

I'm not ready to hurt yet.

"Cherry?" Anne's voice rescues me from my thoughts. I realize I've been sitting on the couch, staring down at my socked feet on the floor.

"Sorry," I say, standing up and stretching. "What?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know this is hard for you."

My eyes start burning and I focus on my socks. When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I look up.

Anne wipes away a stray tear from my cheek before pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her before squeezing tight, so tight I can hear an audible gasp from her before she hugs me back with equal fervor.

I don't know how long we stay like that, locked in each other's embrace, but when she finally lets me go, I feel a little better.

"Anne?" I ask, hating how my voice wavers.

"Mhmm?" She responds, moving to tidy up the couch.

"What's going to happen to this house? If I'm coming to live with you and your family, who will take care of this place?" I'm almost scared of the answer, but I force myself to listen to her response.

"I'm not sure yet, honey," Anne says, pausing with a half-folded blanket in her arms. "We might have to sell it. I don't know if anyone will be able to take care of the house."

"What if we rented it out?" I do not want to sell this house. I love it too much; too much has happened in this house.

"We'll see, okay? I promise." I nod, and Anne tosses the now-folded blanket onto a chair near the TV. "Now, do you have a black dress?"

I blank.

"A black dress? For what?"

I see Anne's face and realization slaps me in the face.

"Oh." Then, "I think I do. I had to get one for my friend's grandma's funeral a few years ago. I've grown a bit since then, but it should still fit."

Anne nods, heading for the stairs. "How about you try it on, just in case? If it doesn't fit, then we can go shopping today for a new one."

"Okay," I reply, heading up the stairs behind her.

The dress is definitely too small, at least for funeral standards. What was once a somber-looking funeral dress now is more along the lines of LBD. It falls to half a foot above my knee, and shows off my legs made powerful by track and cross country. My chest, once too small to fill out the top of the dress, now pushes slightly against the material.

"So, not funeral appropriate, I guess," I say, laughing a tiny bit at the thought of walking into a somber service dressed like this. I think it would be as scandalous as Celia's pink dress from "The Help".