TITLE: Better Than Imagined
Violet Betterton was missing the very last softball game of the season. Her straight brown hair was styled into a fancy up-do. She was wearing a shiny periwinkle dress and sticky pink lip gloss. Her legs were encased in the itchiest white tights on Earth.
Four bridesmaids had already gone down the aisle when the wave of ookiness came over Violet. The job was supposed to be simple—count carefully between steps, drop a pink rose petal at perfectly regular intervals, smile for the cameras, and keep the ring bearer in line—no matter what.
Violet choked on a cloud of perfume. She twitched all over, the way she does when she knows something terrible is going to happen. The last thing the hairdo lady said was “Don’t worry honey, even a three-year old can do this.”
That was the problem. Everyone knows that flower girls are never eleven and three quarters.
The edge of the white runner was bunched up under Violet’s feet. She stepped over it gingerly and dropped the first petal. Flashbulbs popped. The flower girl grinned against her will. Relatives that she had never met were oohing and awing. Violet dropped more petals.
What happened next kind of wasn’t her fault—at all.