“Emma, did you iron Brianna’s dress?” she asked without lifting her eyes from her phone.
“Yes.”
The smell of burnt toast mixed with heavy perfume in the air.
Brianna rushed in waving her phone around.
“Kylie, where’s my gold lip gloss?”
Kylie stomped out in heels. “I didn’t take it!”
“You always take my stuff!”
Vanessa interrupted sharply. “Enough. Emma, did you clean the living room?”
“I cleaned it after breakfast.”
I wished I could disappear.
Upstairs, I shut myself inside my room.
My hands shook while I fastened the dress. The sash, made from Dad’s service tie, felt strangely heavy. I pinned his silver military pin at my waist and stared at myself in the mirror.
For one terrifying second, I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake.
Then laughter drifted up from downstairs.
“She’s probably wearing something from a thrift store,” Kylie said loudly.
