hand and we walked over to Mom, who was flipping through the day’s orders.
“Look at what Poppy made,” I told her.
Mom glanced up. “So pretty, Poppy,” she murmured.
“No, Mom, really look. What do you think?” Mom looked from the Barbie to me, then back again. “You want me to make a skirt entirely out of rose petals for the Homecoming Queen?” she said in disbelief. “No,” I said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mom replied. “I want you to make a dress entirely out of
rosebuds
for the Homecoming Queen,” I explained. “What?” Mom gasped. “Sounds weird,” said Rose.
“I don’t know,” said Aster slowly. “It could be cool.”
“It was
my
idea,” Poppy put in.
I patted her on the head. “Yes, it was. Thank you, Pops,” I said.
I grabbed Mom’s notebook and turned to a clean page. I quickly sketched a long evening gown, then started to draw in rosebuds.
“I just can’t figure out how to attach them,” I said. Mom thought for a minute, her forehead wrinkling. And just when I was sure she was going to say “impossible!” she grinned. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a deep-red rose, flipped it over, and studied the base.“I think this could work! I would sew them on,” she said. “Glue gunning them would make it too stiff and heavy.” She nodded. “Sewing is the way to go.”
“So we’re going to try this crazy idea?” I said, my spirits lifting.
Mom nodded. “Let’s do it right now!” she said. “I’ll take care of arrangements that need to go out today and you girls run home and get the stuff we’re going to need.” She paused, and I grabbed a piece of paper to take notes. “I’ll need my sewing basket, and a dress to practice on …” Mom thought for a minute. “I have a strapless dress in the back of my closet we can use. Someone spilled a glass of red wine on it at a wedding and I’ve been meaning to dye it black. It will be perfect for this project!” “Anything else?” I asked her.
Mom nodded. “Big needles. Waxed thread. And my dress form. I’m going to need to adjust the dress a bit.” She looked at my sisters and me. “What are you waiting for? Go! Go! Go! We have a dress of roses to make!”
Chapter Seven
As soon as we got home, I sent Rose up to the attic to get the dress form. The rest of us gathered the other supplies. After I located Mom’s dress shears in the cutlery drawer (don’t ask), I went upstairs to see if Rose needed help.
“Rose?” I called into the shadowy attic.
“Over here,” she said. I found her sitting on the floor. She looked up, a smudge of dust on her cheek. She was sifting through a box marked ROSE’S PLAY PROGRAMS. “Remember when I was Annie?” she said wistfully. She started to sing. “The sun will come out …”
“I remember,” I said, cutting her off. Rose had adored being the little redheaded orphan and had remained in character throughout the whole production. There hadbeen far too many “gee whiskers!” and “leapin’ lizards” for my taste. Plus, she had insisted on calling our dog, Buster, “Sandy,” which totally confused him.
But Rose looked so sad I couldn’t say anything to her about wasting time. So I tried distraction. I saw a weird headband that kind of looked like Martian antennae with sparkly red hearts on top and put it on to make her smile. Then I helped her put the scrapbooks away and finally, behind a large, wire birdcage in a dark corner, we located the dress form. It loomed in the darkness, ghostly white and headless.
“Kind of spooky,” said Rose.
As we left the house, Poppy held the sewing basket on her arm like she was Little Red Riding Hood, off to visit her sick grandmother. Aster was carrying the dress and a bag of chocolate-chip cookies we had found in the kitchen. Rose and I carried the dress form — she held the base and I had my arms wrapped around the shoulders. We were quite an odd sight.
We giggled self-consciously as we made our way to the
“Look at what Poppy made,” I told her.
Mom glanced up. “So pretty, Poppy,” she murmured.
“No, Mom, really look. What do you think?” Mom looked from the Barbie to me, then back again. “You want me to make a skirt entirely out of rose petals for the Homecoming Queen?” she said in disbelief. “No,” I said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Mom replied. “I want you to make a dress entirely out of
rosebuds
for the Homecoming Queen,” I explained. “What?” Mom gasped. “Sounds weird,” said Rose.
“I don’t know,” said Aster slowly. “It could be cool.”
“It was
my
idea,” Poppy put in.
I patted her on the head. “Yes, it was. Thank you, Pops,” I said.
I grabbed Mom’s notebook and turned to a clean page. I quickly sketched a long evening gown, then started to draw in rosebuds.
“I just can’t figure out how to attach them,” I said. Mom thought for a minute, her forehead wrinkling. And just when I was sure she was going to say “impossible!” she grinned. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a deep-red rose, flipped it over, and studied the base.“I think this could work! I would sew them on,” she said. “Glue gunning them would make it too stiff and heavy.” She nodded. “Sewing is the way to go.”
“So we’re going to try this crazy idea?” I said, my spirits lifting.
Mom nodded. “Let’s do it right now!” she said. “I’ll take care of arrangements that need to go out today and you girls run home and get the stuff we’re going to need.” She paused, and I grabbed a piece of paper to take notes. “I’ll need my sewing basket, and a dress to practice on …” Mom thought for a minute. “I have a strapless dress in the back of my closet we can use. Someone spilled a glass of red wine on it at a wedding and I’ve been meaning to dye it black. It will be perfect for this project!” “Anything else?” I asked her.
Mom nodded. “Big needles. Waxed thread. And my dress form. I’m going to need to adjust the dress a bit.” She looked at my sisters and me. “What are you waiting for? Go! Go! Go! We have a dress of roses to make!”
Chapter Seven
As soon as we got home, I sent Rose up to the attic to get the dress form. The rest of us gathered the other supplies. After I located Mom’s dress shears in the cutlery drawer (don’t ask), I went upstairs to see if Rose needed help.
“Rose?” I called into the shadowy attic.
“Over here,” she said. I found her sitting on the floor. She looked up, a smudge of dust on her cheek. She was sifting through a box marked ROSE’S PLAY PROGRAMS. “Remember when I was Annie?” she said wistfully. She started to sing. “The sun will come out …”
“I remember,” I said, cutting her off. Rose had adored being the little redheaded orphan and had remained in character throughout the whole production. There hadbeen far too many “gee whiskers!” and “leapin’ lizards” for my taste. Plus, she had insisted on calling our dog, Buster, “Sandy,” which totally confused him.
But Rose looked so sad I couldn’t say anything to her about wasting time. So I tried distraction. I saw a weird headband that kind of looked like Martian antennae with sparkly red hearts on top and put it on to make her smile. Then I helped her put the scrapbooks away and finally, behind a large, wire birdcage in a dark corner, we located the dress form. It loomed in the darkness, ghostly white and headless.
“Kind of spooky,” said Rose.
As we left the house, Poppy held the sewing basket on her arm like she was Little Red Riding Hood, off to visit her sick grandmother. Aster was carrying the dress and a bag of chocolate-chip cookies we had found in the kitchen. Rose and I carried the dress form — she held the base and I had my arms wrapped around the shoulders. We were quite an odd sight.
We giggled self-consciously as we made our way to the
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